I lifted a curious brow.
“That sounded like a bad combination to me.”
"Can you think of anybody who might have wanted to kill him?”
"Well, he was a divorce attorney. I'm sure he had plenty of enemies. Plus, he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I'm sure there are a few pissed off husbands out there.”
"You don't seem too upset about it.”
Tiffany gave me a flat look. "What do you want me to do? There are only so many tears I can cry. I feel bad about it. I feel sad. But emotionally, I don't have anything left to give at the moment.”
"Can you tell me where you were between 7:00 and 9:00 PM last night?”
She gave me an exasperated look. "Are you really considering me a suspect in this one, too? Next thing you know, you'll be painting me the next serial killer of Coconut Key,” she said, like it was absurd. “Just how many people do you think I'm capable of killing, Deputy?"
I shrugged.
"For the record, I did not kill Trent Keating.” She looked me dead in the eye when she said it, unflinching. She was good at lying. There was no doubt about it.
“Do you own a bicycle?
She laughed. “Yes. Of course.”
“Ride frequently?”
“Yes. I like to get my cardio that way.”
“Did you ride it last night?”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Yes. I went out for a ride to clear my head.”
“What time?”
She huffed. “I told you, I didn’t kill Keating.”
"That's interesting, because we have a witness. She recalls seeing a woman who matches your description go into the residence around the time of the murder.”
It was a complete fabrication.
Tiffany's face froze for a moment. Then she recovered quickly. "I don't know what to tell you. It wasn't me. There are a lot of brunettes on the island.”
"None of them look quite as stunning as you," I said with a flirty smile.
She smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere, except when you accuse me of murder. Again.” She laughed. “I really appreciate that you’re doing your jobs, but this is starting to get tiresome. Do you have something against me? Is this personal?”
I smiled. “Nothing in particular. Just doing our due diligence.”
“Trent deserves justice. So does my husband. I hope that’s something you can sort out, but I’m starting to lose faith. You keep pursuing all the wrong avenues.”
“Do you mind if we take a look at your bike?”
“I do mind.”
“What’s to hide?”
“Nothing. But I’m starting to feel targeted.”
“I guess coming down to the station and standing in a lineup is out of the question?”
