“Sounds like you’re still mad,” Matt said.
Farah shot him a look. “I left the store without issue.”
But the story wasn’t over. Bree could sense it. “So when did you see the other woman Spencer was dating?”
Farah studied her torn thumbnail without answering, but there were only two ways she could have seen Spencer out on a date: accidentally or purposefully. The odds of a random encounter were low.
“You followed him again,” Matt prompted.
She picked at her cuticle with her other hand. “I followed him home after his shift. He changed clothes and headed out to the coffee shop an hour later.” She lowered her hands to her lap and stared at them for a few seconds.
Neither Bree nor Matt said a word. They just waited for her to continue. She was reliving the memory—and seething.
She was definitely not over it.
“He went to the same coffee shop where we’d met the first time. I watched through the window. The woman looked a lot like me. A lot of things became real clear in about ten seconds. One, he was a douche. Two, I was better off without him. Three, he was going to do the same thing to her. He was working a pattern.”
Bree leaned forward, invading Farah’s space just a little, adding physical reinforcement to the verbal pressure. “What did you do next?”
“I bought brownies and ice cream, came home, and washed it all down with an entire bottle of prosecco.” Farah lifted her eyes to meet Bree’s. “I had a whopping hangover and permitted myself twenty-four hours to wallow in self-pity. Then I moved on. I’m dating again, and I’ve met several men since. They’re all very different from Spencer. I’m over him.”
It sounded as if she were trying to convince herself, because bitterness radiated from her like heat from the woodstove.
Bree paused before she asked the most important question. “Where were you yesterday from 4:30 to 5:30 p.m.?”
She blinked three times before answering. “Here.”
Bree sought eye contact. “Was anyone with you?”
Their gazes locked for one long breath. Farah’s phone vibrated on the table. A man’s face and a name appeared on the lock screen. Rhys. She quickly touched the side of the phone and the screen went blank. “My friend Rhys came over.”
“What about before that?” Matt asked.
“I was here, alone. I’m writing a training manual. I work from home. Some days, I don’t see anyone at all.”
“What time did Rhys get here?” Bree pressed. If Farah was lying, she’d have to think fast and then remember all the details. Bree would ask the same questions again if a second interview was required.
“Around six, I think,” Farah evaded. “I don’t know exactly. I wasn’t checking the time.” Her jaw set.
Bree made a note in her notepad. “What did you two do?”
“Talked.” Farah’s thin shoulder lifted and poked through the oversize neck of her shirt.
“Did you eat dinner? Watch TV?” Bree continued to apply pressure. Lies would be caught in repetition.
“I said we talked.” Farah enunciated each word as if she wanted to be sure they heard her.
“You didn’t offer him a beverage?” Matt lifted a doubtful brow.
“He drinks tea.” Farah’s gaze shot to him like a thrown dagger.
“So, you made him tea?” Bree confirmed.
“Yes.” Farah bit off the word. “He takes it with honey, in case you were wondering.”
Well, that felt like the truth.
“Rhys is a good friend?” Matt asked.
“One of the best,” Farah said. “We like all the same things. We have so much in common. I wish we had chemistry. He’d be the perfect life partner.”
Bree made a show of writing more notes. Farah frowned.
A few seconds of silence ticked by. Then Bree asked, “Did Spencer own reptiles?”
“Yes.” Farah’s voice returned to normal. She was more comfortable moving away from the topic of her alibi. “He had some gorgeous snakes.”
“He showed you?” Bree was surprised.
“He knew I have a gecko and like reptiles.” Farah pointed to the kitchen counter, where a small aquarium sat. Inside, a five-inch lizard basked under a heat lamp.
“What kind of reptiles did Spencer have?” Matt asked. “Did you see his whole collection?”
“A whole room of them. He brought out this gorgeous, rare corn snake so I could hold it.” She nodded toward her gecko. “Flash is cute and easy to care for. I don’t have time for a high-maintenance pet.”
“Did you see any rattlesnakes?” Bree asked.
Farah nodded. “Yes. He had three.” She snorted. “I didn’t hold any of those.”
So, Spencer had recently owned three rattlesnakes. Now there were three empty spaces on his shelves and zero rattlesnakes in the collection. Had the killer taken the snakes?
Bree wanted to scream but kept her voice level. “Did you know it’s illegal to keep a venomous snake in New York State without a special permit?”
Farah shrugged. “It never occurred to me to ask.”
“This happened at his house?” Bree lifted her pen.
“Yes.”
Truth.
“OK. That’s all the questions I have right now.” Bree tapped her pen on her notepad. “I’d like your cell phone number in case we need more information.”
Farah gave it to her, then unfolded her long body and inched toward the door. Clearly, she couldn’t wait to get rid of them.
Bree looked up and blinked innocently. “And a number for your friend Rhys? I’ll need to confirm your alibi with him.”
Farah balked. “Why?”
“Because you stalked Spencer shortly before he was killed. You had a public confrontation with him that was loud enough to warrant the store manager filling out an incident report and asking you to never return to the store. You threatened Spencer.”
Farah’s face went pale. “I never threatened him.”
Bree flipped backward in her notepad to her notes from Todd’s interview with the store manager. “You said, ‘I’ll get even with you. No one treats me like that.’”
Farah’s lips parted. Her olive complexion turned ashy gray.
“So, how about giving me Rhys’s number so I can verify your alibi?” Bree poised her pen over her paper.
Farah’s voice sounded tight, almost robotic, as she read off a number.
Bree wrote it down. “His last name?”
“Blake,” Farah said, her voice gaining strength, almost defiance.
“One more thing,” Matt said. “Who owns that white Highlander outside?”
“My dad,” Farah said. “He’s working in Canada for a couple of months and didn’t want to leave it unattended in his condo parking lot. Vehicles get broken into there.”
“Do you drive it?” Matt asked.
Farah nodded. “Sometimes. He asked me to drive it once in a while.”
Bree rose. “We’ll get back to you with additional questions if necessary.”
Matt stood and inclined his head. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Farah said nothing as she followed them to the door, but Bree heard the dead bolt slide home once they got outside.