Body Of Truth by Deirdre Savoy Page A

anything more than what I told them over the phone.” She turned and headed toward the living room, trusting him to close the door behind him. She took a seat at the edge of the sofa facing the door to the room. She gestured for him to take the love seat on the opposite wall, but he remained standing, looking around.
    â€œNice place.”
    Yes, she agreed with him silently, but it hadn’t always been a nice place. She’d bought it as a fixer-upper since she couldn’t afford many places that didn’t require fixing. In the last three years, she’d retiled the downstairs bathroom and completely gutted the upstairs one. She’d retiled the kitchen floor and enclosed the back porch. This room had been the worst, requiring new hardwood floors, new dry-wall and a new ceiling. She’d painted the room a soft apricot to match her caramel-colored leather furniture. The room now exuded a warm, homey feeling that she enjoyed.
    But she doubted Jonathan Stone really cared one way or another about her décor. She recognized his words as his opening gambit, the infamous lead-in question or comment designed to relax the interviewee and she didn’t appreciate it.
    â€œDon’t handle me, Jonathan. Ask what you want to ask.”
    â€œAll right.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat across from her. “How sure are you that it was Amanda Pierce you saw coming out of the building on Highland Avenue?”
    â€œAbout ninety-nine percent. But I didn’t see her coming out of the building. She was already outside when I got out.”
    â€œYou never saw her inside the building?”
    â€œNo. I told that to the officer I spoke to.” Since he didn’t seem pleased with that answer, she asked, “Why?”
    â€œWhat was she wearing?”
    Just like a cop to ignore your questions and stick to his own agenda. She relayed everything she remembered from the pumps on the woman’s feet to the scarf tied on her handbag.
    He wrote on his pad as she spoke. After a moment he looked up. “What kind of scarf?”
    Dana shrugged. “I don’t know. It had a pattern of piano keys on it.”
    â€œYou say she got into a car with a man. Did you get a look at him?”
    â€œTo be honest, I’m not sure it was a man. It could have been a beefy woman. I only saw an arm, but my impression was that it belonged to a man.”
    â€œWhat kind of car?”
    â€œBig, black. Beyond that I don’t know. If it had the model on the back, I didn’t notice.”
    â€œDid you get a look at the license plate?”
    â€œI’m sure I did.” Since she’d found out about Pierce’s murder she’d tried to recall whatever numbers or letters might have been on it and had come up blank. “I didn’t know there was going to be a quiz later.”
    â€œIs there anything else you can remember that might be helpful?”
    She scanned her memory, wishing she could tell him. “There was an old homeless man urinating on the building. He was outside when I got there, too.” Knowing he’d ask for it, she gave a description of him, adding that she’d never seen him in the neighborhood before.
    He closed his notebook and slipped it into his breast pocket. “Thank you.” He nodded toward her with his chin. “What happened to your arm?”
    For a moment, she wondered if this was another police interrogation tactic or he truly wanted to know. “It’s my shoulder, actually. I got shot in a drive-by yesterday morning.”
    â€œWho’s working the case?”
    â€œDetective Moretti out of the 44th precinct. Do you know him?”
    He nodded rather than spoke. “How did he treat you?”
    â€œLike I was the one who shot somebody.” It occurred to her that Joanna had been there at the time, outside the room. Not only had Dana told Joanna how the interview had gone, she’d probably listened to the whole