“I’m sure you noticed the realtor lockbox on the door. Christine would have passed along the code to any other agents who came to show the house.”
“And did anyone else besides Christine show the house?” Dominique should know this because she would have had to step out for viewings to take place.
“Actually, no, I don’t think so.”
But Amanda’s mind was still grinding on this. Selling this house would net a sizable commission. Maybe a rival agent let jealousy get to them that Christine had this listing. “Anyone else have a key?”
“Just my maid.”
“What can you tell us about your housecleaner?” Amanda relabeled, not caring for the one that Dominique had used.
“Lucia is a sixty-year-old Spanish woman from Mexico. She’d have no reason to kill Christine. Honestly, I can’t imagine her killing anyone.”
Amanda felt comfortable ruling Lucia out, but there was one inconsistency. “If you have someone to clean your home, why do you have a robot vacuum?”
Dominique scrunched up her face. “Strange question, but okay, I’ll play. Lucia only comes in twice a week, so I have two robot vacuums set up to run for the days when she’s not here.”
Amanda didn’t understand how one woman living in such a large house would have a need for that much cleaning. The floors must be sterile enough to lick. “When are they set to go out?”
Dominique cocked an eyebrow but reached into her designer purse and pulled out her phone. “There’s no way I’m remembering that. Again, I find it odd that you care.”
“Please, oblige us,” Trent said. “We’re just interested in any set to run today.”
“There is one upstairs and one down. Both do a section at eleven AM and another at four PM.”
Amanda surmised they only had so much battery life, but that timing would explain why the one was still running when they’d arrived.
“Are you going to tell me why you care about my vacuuming?” Dominique slid her phone back into her purse.
“Open investigation, ma’am,” Trent said and earned a groan from the lawyer.
“Uh-huh. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Well, your house is a crime scene and may be locked down for several days.” Amanda didn’t feel bad laying that out bluntly.
“Just great. And how will I ever sell it now? It’s a murder house.”
The sale of this house was the least of Amanda’s concerns. “I can’t say. But you’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.”
“Fine.” Dominique started to walk back down the driveway toward her Cadillac.
“We’ll need to know where you’re going,” Amanda told her. “In case we have more questions.”
“I’m going to stay with my lover. Name’s Joel Blackburn, and he lives in town.” Dominique rattled off the address and phone number. Trent scribbled quickly in his notepad.
Amanda watched Dominique get into her vehicle after elbowing her way past several people.
Officer Cochran stepped in to get the crowd to stay back so Dominique could drive away.
Amanda turned to Trent. “If I don’t get inside, I’m going to become a puddle of goo.”
“Preach it.”
They pushed through the front door and stepped into the air-conditioning.
“It’s a dream in here.” Trent snapped his mouth shut.
Amanda dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. “Blame your poor word choice on heat stroke.”
