Page 81 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“Guess what?” she said, hoisting her little butt onto his desk.

“I couldn’t.”

“You’re no fun.”

“So I’ve been told. Many times.”

“Our favorite family is in the news again.” Morrisette’s eyes actually twinkled. She really got off on all this stuff. Reed, on the other hand, felt as if a brick had been dropped on his gut.

“The Montgomerys?”

“Whoever said you weren’t an ace detective?”

“You for starters.”

She grinned far enough to show some teeth.

“If this is about Amanda Drummond’s accident yesterday, I already heard about it and talked to her in the hospital. She thinks someone’s trying to kill her. I was about to call you and see if you wanted to go with me to get her statement.”

“Shit—oh, damn . . . oh . . . I should have known you would already have gotten wind of this. And yeah, I wouldn’t miss this interview for the world,” she said, a little deflated that Reed was one step ahead of her.

The telephone jangled and he punched the button for the speakerphone. “Reed.”

“You’ve got a couple of faxes,” a secretary told him.

“I’ll be down to pick ’em up in a few.” He was in the process of hanging up when he saw Amanda Drummond storming through the cubicles, heading straight for his office.

“Looks like we’ll be doing that interview here,” he said under his breath as Amanda pushed through the already half-open door.

“You said you wanted a statement,” she said without so much as a greeting, “so I thought I’d make it official. I know this is Homicide, okay, and I probably technically should be talking to that yahoo of a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, but since you stopped by the hospital yesterday and seem to agree that what happened to me might be related to Josh’s death, I thought I’d talk to you.”

“That’ll work,” he said. “This is my partner. Detective Morrisette. She’ll sit in. If you don’t mind, I’m going to tape this.” He reached into his drawer for a pocket recorder and noticed that Morrisette had pulled a small notepad and pen from her pocket.

“Fine.” Amanda gave Morrisette the once-over, hesitated a second when she checked out her hair, then turned back to Reed as she settled into the chair near his desk. Morrisette rested a hip on the windowsill. “For the record, I think someone is picking off Montgomery family members one by one. Someone tried to run me off the road, and if you check the records you’ll see I made a statement with the police to that effect. Then he waited, killed Josh in the meantime and took a crack at me again yesterday!” Her jaw was set, her eyes bright as she leaned across the desk. But she didn’t look scared. Just angry. Such was her personality. “Look, Detective, I want whoever the bastard is caught before my luck runs out.” She pointed a manicured nail straight between his eyes. “So I expect you to nail the S.O.B. before he gets another chance.”

“I can assure you that we’re doing everything possible to close this case, Mrs. Drummond.”

“Oh, sure. The company answer. That’ll make me sleep better tonight.” She let out her breath in a huff, and as she did some of her rage seemed to dissipate. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t like unleashing the bitch in me. It . . . it shouldn’t be necessary. But sometimes I feel it is.” As she leaned closer to the desk, making the conversation appear more intimate, Reed was reminded that she was an attorney, used to putting on a show in a courtroom, to playing to an audience. “Look,” she said, “I know Kathy Okano. We were both assistant D.A.s together years ago before I couldn’t stand it any longer. But I’m sure she would agree with me.”

“Where do you usually keep your car?” he asked.

“In my garage at my house. I live out at Quail Run. It’s a gated community, complete with security guard.”

“When’s the last time you drove the car?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Three weeks ago. It’s a sports car, and I only use it once in a while. I usually drive my Mercedes. The TR is just for fun, a convertible.”

“Who else drives the sports car?”

“Just me.”

“What about your husband?” Morrisette asked.

Amanda shook her head. “Never. Just me.”

“But he has access.” Sylvie Morrisette wasn’t about to back down.

“Yeah, he even has a key so that he can move it if he has to or wash it. But trust me, Ian didn’t sabotage my car!”

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