THIRTY-SEVEN
Just as Amanda came face to face with Harold Armstrong, her phone rang. “One second.” She checked the caller ID, and it was her mother. Amanda couldn’t risk sending the call the voicemail in case Malone had taken a turn for the worse. “I need to take this.” She stepped into the hall. “Mom?”
“The doctors found something on the MRI.” Her mother, who was normally full of energy, laid that out like a damp rag.
“What did they…?” Amanda could hardly get herself to form words.
“They haven’t said specifically what it is. Just that it could explain why he passed out.”
“When will they know?”
“They have more tests and scans to do, but we could know by the end of the day what we’re dealing with.”
Amanda’s body was trembling. “Call me the minute you know more.”
“You coming to the hospital later?”
“I will be. Love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him too.”
“Will do. Love you, Mandy Monkey.” With that, her mother hung up, but Amanda stood in the hall, staring into space, holding her phone to her chest.
Trent ducked into the hall, and Scarlett, who was at her desk, looked at her with concern.
“Everything all right?” Trent asked.
Amanda pressed her lips together, could feel warm tears budding in her eyes, and shook her head. “I don’t think so.” There was no way anything turning up on an MRI could be good news.
“Do you need to leave? I can handle this.”
She considered it and, for a few seconds, seriously thought she would take him up on his offer. “No, I’ll be fine. Nothing I can do anyway. It’s either wait there or wait here and accomplish something.”
Trent nodded. “If you change your mind…”
“I know. Thank you.” She touched his shoulder, and they returned to Tony’s office where Harold was making himself comfortable on a couch in the sitting area. They joined him. Both she and Trent sat in chairs angled toward the couch.
“Detective Stenson said you have questions for me.” Harold leaned back, his arms along the top of the cushions.
He was acting rather cavalier considering two homicide detectives wanted a word with him. “When did you last see Alicia Gordon?” she asked.
“I answered that the first time we spoke.”
“Sure. Just humor me.” Amanda gave him a tight smile.
“The week before she died.”
“Before she was murdered.” Amanda made sure to emphasize the manner of death.
“That’s right.”
“Where did you get the mud on your truck’s tire?” she volleyed back.
Harold met her gaze, and his face became shadows. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“I’m quite sure you know why I’m asking, Mr. Armstrong. Again, if you’d humor me.” Her tone was dry, but she couldn’t shake that Harold could have good reason to prevent the sale of New Belle—if he’d found out. Unlike Scarlett Dixon with her life and career path ahead of her, he was nearing the end of the road. He wouldn’t be the top hire for any company at his age, despite his experience and what he had to offer. Sad but true. And while he had money to invest in New Belle at the beginning, his personal financial situation could have changed. “Were you at the cabin with Alicia?”
His cheeks flooded with color, but he said nothing.
“Answer Detective Steele’s question, Mr. Armstrong,” Trent prodded.
The older man took a deep, ragged breath. “Very well. Yes, I was there.”
“Why were you there, Mr. Armstrong?”
Harold loosened his tie and undid a couple of buttons at his collar.
Suddenly it seemed the man had lost his ability to talk. “Will your prints match the wine bottle and wineglass that Alicia Gordon was drinking from at the cabin?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I’d guess they would.”
“You still haven’t told us why you were there. Did you find out about her plan to sell New Belle?” She watched his body language as it stiffened and he crossed his arms, defensive. “Mr. Armstrong,” she prompted.
“Yes, all right, I knew.”
“You failed to admit this the first time we spoke.”
“I know how it might look. I’ve been here forever, and if I lose this job, well, I’m a dinosaur in the world out there. I won’t find anything else.”
“And you’re not ready for retirement,” Amanda said, keeping the narrative going.
“No, I’m not. My wife spends money faster than it comes in. We have a mountain of debt.”
His story of not being good with his cash wasn’t a new one, but in Harold’s case, it gave him motive for murder. “You must have been happy when Alicia died, knowing that the business would stay around longer.”
“No. What a horrible thing to say.”
“Since you were a close partner of Alicia’s, I’m guessing you were aware of her will saying that Tony couldn’t sell for a few years?” She was twisting the words of the clause slightly.
“He could sell, but he had to—” He clamped his mouth shut.
“So you were well aware of the stipulations in her will. It must have hurt that you weren’t in it.” A thought that had just occurred to her.
“Why would I be?”