Simon saw Mrs. Stephens’s face redden. What did Andy think he was doing, antagonizing her before they had any answers to their questions? Not to mention being downright rude on a subject he probably knew less about than Simon.
“Shut up, Andy,” he said. “Show some respect.” He sensed rather than saw the woman’s surprise, and took immediate advantage of it. “Mrs. Stephens, we need to—”
“It’s Maggie,” she interrupted him with quiet force. “I don’t use Stephens much these days. Should’ve dumped the name when its owner dumped me.”
The local cops had no record of Mr. Stephens ever getting into trouble. Maybe he’d had enough of his wife’s shenanigans and gotten out of here, like any decent guy would.
“Like I said, ma’am—” he couldn’t bring himself to use her first name “—we need to ask you—”
“What did you say your name was, Officer?”
Crook felt heat at the back of his neck. He hadn’t introduced himself, a clear breach of protocol. “Special Agent Crook.”
“I suppose your first name is Small-time?”
Beside him Andy sniggered, and Simon felt the heat intensify. “This here’s Special Agent Slater,” he persisted. “Mrs.—uh—ma’am, if you want to help your daughter, you’ll answer our questions.”
He’d hit upon the magic words. Maggie Stephens sat on the worn-out sofa and gave them her full attention. She didn’t invite them to sit, but Crook pulled a couple of dining chairs out and passed one to Andy.
In as few words as possible he outlined the theft Holly’s clients had suffered and made it clear Holly was a suspect.
“Holly would never do that,” her mother said. “She’s honest, like me.”
He frowned. He couldn’t resist pointing out the flaw in her logic. “Ma’am, I understand you have several criminal convictions. Claiming Holly takes after you may not help her cause.”
Maggie’s remarkable green gaze didn’t waver. “Holly is a woman of strong principles,” she said. “She wouldn’t betray those for money.”
She said “money” with a genuine contempt that Simon envied. But with retirement looming he couldn’t be complacent. And he wouldn’t want to live in a trailer park.…
“When did you last speak to your daughter?” He didn’t imagine they were best buddies. Young Ms. Stephens looked as if she’d gone all out to get as far away—philosophically, if not geographically—from her upbringing as possible.
So he wasn’t surprised when the mother said, “Maybe three or four months.” Which probably meant six months.
“Does she ever talk to you about her business partner, David Fletcher?”
Maggie Stephens shook her head. “She mentioned him when they first set up the business, but not lately.”
“What did she tell you about Fletcher back then?”
“Is your first name Murray?”
The unexpected question threw him off track. “What? No. No, it’s not.”
“It’s just you look like a Murray.”
What was that supposed to mean? Most likely it means this woman’s a fruitcake. “We were talking about Dave Fletcher,” he prompted her again.
“Holly said he wasn’t particularly bright, but he was reliable and good on detail.”
“You’ve got a good memory. She said that—what, two years ago?” Andy sounded plain skeptical.
“My daughter and I don’t talk much.” She addressed Crook as if Slater wasn’t there. “So when we do, I hold on to that conversation for a long time.”
“Then you should remember what you talked about last time you spoke,” he said.
Maggie Stephens shrugged. “Is your name Horace?”
“No.” Even as he willed himself not to respond to her provocation, he was faintly stung she would even suggest it.
“Wayne?”
An improvement on Horace, at least. Crook shook his head. He was more than familiar with delaying tactics. If he told her, she’d just think up some other way to bug him. “What did you and Holly talk about last time you spoke?” he repeated coldly.
She shrugged again. “She told me her business was going well, and the twins were doing okay at college, far as she knew.”
“The twins?”
“Summer and River. They’re nineteen. Holly is paying to put them through college.” Her voice was devoid of expression where Crook might have expected pride or gratitude. He left aside the subject of why Maggie might not be pleased her kids were going to college, and focused instead on the potential motive for fraud she had just presented.
“That’s a big financial commitment for Holly,” he said conversationally.
She saw right through that. “Holly is very generous with her money. Sensible, too. She doesn’t spend what she doesn’t have. And the only money she has is what she’s worked for.”
The questioning went around in circles for another fifteen minutes. While Crook didn’t think she was lying, Maggie had been interrogated by authorities often enough that she knew how to annoy a federal agent, and how to say nothing that was of any use. Every so often she’d ask, “Is your name Kevin?” Or Peter, or John or whatever. Crook was pleased with the way he kept his cool, especially in the face of Slater’s growing and ill-concealed amusement.
At last he figured he wasn’t going to get any more out of her. He rose to leave, looking forward to getting out of the trailer, away from its shabby furnishings, its art-cluttered walls and the dominating presence of Maggie Stephens. With luck, he wouldn’t have to speak to her again.
“Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am,” he said, his politeness edged with sarcasm.
The glint of mischief in her green eyes told him she knew just how he felt. “My pleasure, Officer,” she said.
And as he headed down the path behind Andy, she called, “Lucas?”
Crook stopped. She really thought he looked like a Lucas? The only Lucas he’d known had been the coolest kid in high school. Unable to help himself, he grinned at her. “Nope.”
She stood in the doorway with her arms folded, a defensive stance. Her next words were diffident, almost shy. “You told your colleague to show some respect for my work. Does that mean you like it?”
He could have said yes, in the hope it would make the woman more inclined to help him. But generally he didn’t lie, even to suspects. He had a hunch that a couple of small lies would put him on a road he didn’t want to go down, and he might not find the way back again.
“No, I didn’t exactly like them,” he said. “Mind you, I didn’t dislike them, either. I just…didn’t get them.”
He wasn’t sure if her brusque nod indicated she’d taken offence or not. Not his problem. He raised a hand in farewell. By the time he and Slater were in the car, she’d disappeared inside.
“That woman is nuts.” Slater didn’t hold back his contempt.
Crook, who ordinarily had no problem ascribing varying degrees of lunacy to the people he met through his work, merely said, “She didn’t give us much to go on.”
That he hadn’t given the ready agreement Slater was looking for irritated Crook. Maggie may not be nuts, but she was a criminal who in all likelihood had raised her daughter to be an even bigger criminal. He shouldn’t defend her.
He flicked his turn signal as they pulled