9
Mariah chewed another mouthful of food as her gaze shifted back to the window. She was not about to let this officious public servant bully her. The devil inside her decided to have some fun. She deliberately reached for the milk, well aware that Manzetti was becoming impatient.
As Mariah looked up, she caught Michael’s glance. His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a grin; however, the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. He looked ashamed of himself for enjoying Agent Manzetti’s discomfort: nonetheless, admiration for the way she was handling the situation shone in his eyes. Mariah was glad of his silent approval.
She decided to needle Manzetti just a little more so she spoke directly to Sapitnaski. “I don’t know what else I can add to what I already told Officer Sanders. I assume you’ve read his report?” He nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Manzetti glowering. Mariah continued, her voice filled with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
“Quite frankly, I’m as baffled as you. As I told Officer Sanders, nothing like this has ever happened to me. I didn’t know Amanda, never heard of her before seeing her on the news. Don’t know the kidnapper either. I went to sleep after giving Sanders the information. Michael told me half an hour ago that Amanda is home.”
Her voice was edged with exhaustion. “I’m really beat. I need more sleep. I’m going to finish my food and head home.”
#
Manzetti’s eyes narrowed. Not until I’m damn good and ready to let you go, sister. Against her will, she began to believe this ludicrous story. Plus it was difficult to maintain the fierce look of a predator when the prey yawned and blinked like a sleepy kitten. Even so, Manzetti was not about to let this woman take control of the interview.
Her voice flat and steely, she said, “I’m sorry Ms. Carpenter, but I do have more questions. Lots more. While I can see you’re tired, we can’t close this file until all the loose ends are tied up. And frankly, you’re one hell of a loose end.”
Mariah grinned. Disarmed, Frannie couldn’t help but thaw a little more . This woman is either totally innocent or one of the best freaking con artists I’ve ever met.
Sapitnaski asked a few innocuous questions but with none of Frannie’s intensity. The story Mariah Carpenter told—from the moment she saw Amanda on television, her days of restlessness and nights of sleeplessness, the interaction with Michael in his office, and her conversation with Amanda—was the same as what appeared on the police report.
Frannie tried several tricks to get Mariah to slip up. After enduring what seemed like hours of badgering, Mariah slammed the container of tuna casserole onto the coffee table, and said, “ This is the reason why respectable citizens don’t want to get involved. You’re treating me like I’m the criminal! For the last time, Agent Manzetti, I don’t know why or how I did what I did. I’ve never done anything like this before.” Mariah locked eyes with Frannie. “If I could explain what happened I would.” She yawned noisily. “And furthermore, I’m beyond exhausted. I either get some sleep or I pass out. I haven’t slept a lot in three days.”
In a voice heavy with fatigue and dismissal, she concluded, “If I have to accept this, so do you.”
Frannie grinned inwardly despite herself. She admired Mariah’s spunk because she would have felt the same way. And she realized she was wasting her time. Frannie Manzetti was either hearing the most fantastic story in her twenty-eight years of existence or she was being conned with the damnedest bullshit, aided and abetted by a minister known even outside this church as honest and sincere.
Frannie turned her chair to face Jenkins, still able to see Carpenter out of the corner of her eye. He said, “I’m sorry, Agent Manzetti, I have nothing to offer. I was never in control nor did I communicate with Amanda.” As much as she hated to, Frannie
Learning to Kill: Stories