She put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t, Sam, please. I’m not in the mood for joking.”
He kissed her. “I was going to say, or we could make love again.”
“Not this morning, Sam.” She grabbed the quilt that had drifted down to the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in it, turning her back on him. He tried to hold her but she hugged the edge of the bed on her side.
Chapter Nine
Sam was off the case but he wasn’t out of the loop. He picked up gossip from colleagues and his partner shared what she could. When all else failed, he snooped.
Danny Hartman told him Amanda’s supposed motive was proving to be weak. No one in the art community had heard of — or believed — Kane’s assertion that she stole ideas from him. Everyone thought it was just a jealous artist shooting off his mouth. Not only would Kane have lost in court, he’d have lost everyone’s respect because he’d tried to ruin a talented and well-liked artist.
Among the police investigating the murders, there was serious doubt that Amanda could have dragged Robin Jordan back to the classroom after the struggle evident in the retail area. And the ME’s report looked good. Sam had seen it sitting on Danny’s desk and had read it. He didn’t think she’d mind.
It said that, from the bruising on Kane’s neck and the angle of the gunshot wound, it was probable a left-handed person had wrestled the six-foot, three-inch victim to the ground before shooting him. Amanda was right-handed, more than foot shorter and weighed less than the bales of hay he’d bucked on the ranch.
And from the scrapings under her fingernails, Jordan had scratched her assailant. Amanda showed no signs of scratches.
By the time he’d finished reading the report, Sam could almost believe it was all over. Amanda was home free. He’d be back on the case with Danny and they would turn their attention to looking for the real perp.
Then he was called into L.T.’s office. Danny was there. When she avoided his gaze he knew it wasn’t going to be a good conversation.
After the usual throat-clearing preliminaries were out of the way, Angel said, “I need to ask you a few questions about Amanda St. Claire. You comfortable with that?”
“I guess.”
“What’d she tell you about the break-in at her studio the night of the murders?”
Sam relaxed back in the chair. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe they were just cleaning up the details. “Just that it happened. It’s not the first time. Not even the first time this month. That building’s as easy to get into as a pop-top can.”
“Yeah, she said. Did she tell you anything else about it?”
“You mean the bloody towel and the clip from Leo’s gun? Yeah.” He looked at the lieutenant, trying to figure out where this conversation was headed. “Don’t you think it was the killer trying to throw suspicion on her? I do.”
“What else did she say about the night of the murder?”
“Nothing. Is there something she should have told me?”
The lieutenant nodded to Danny.
Still avoiding Sam’s eyes, she said, “There was a guy working late across the street from Bullseye. A little after nine, he was loading up his truck when he saw a red SUV pull into the parking area in front of the Resource Center. It was raining so he didn’t get a clear look at the plate but he thought it was a vanity plate with no numbers.”