“Amanda Pharrell, would you kindly butt out?” Chief Clark snapped, his eyes wandering blindly over the mirrored glass. “I’m noting the interruption of private investigator and notorious pest Amanda Pharrell for the tape. She has not been invited into this interview and was permitted to watch from the observation room, silently.”

“This is not silent.” Amanda pushed the button again, her sudden voice making Sweeney jolt again. “This is me saying this confession is bullshit. Rather loudly, actually. This thing is hideously loud. Is there a volume control?” Amanda experimented with the buttons on the panel beneath the speaker. One produced a high-pitched squeal.

“Interview suspended at three forty-five p.m.,” Sweeney breathed, shutting off the tape as her chief marched out of the room, throwing open the door. She followed at a run, locking the door behind her, sure she was going to see the big man holding Amanda by the throat as she turned into the observation room.

“Am I going to have to have someone escort you from the building?” Clark panted with rage. “You do not just chime in to an official police interview like you’re a fucking sports referee!”

“How ungrateful!” Amanda balked. “I’m trying to save you time. Well, I’m trying to save me time, really, by getting Sweensy Peensy out of there so we can get back to the case.” She gestured to Sweeney. “Stephanie is turning your police station into a filthy whorehouse of lies, Chief. Why would you want to waste your time on that? Time is money, chump.”

“The interview has been running for, what, ten minutes?” Clark snapped. “You’re saying she’s lying? You know that? Already?”

“Amanda is right, uh…” Sweeney bit her lips as Chief Clark turned on her. “She’s right about some of the things Stephanie has said so far. We believe that Andrew was startled by his attacker outside the pub, possibly out the back, before the shooting, for example. That doesn’t wash with Stephanie’s account that she walked into the front of the bar and the two only saw her when she reached the counter. That, at least, I’m in support of Amanda about.”

“The whole thing’s bullshit.” Amanda glanced at Stephanie through the glass. “Look at the size of her. You think she’s going to hold up a pistol for the first time with one hand, arm extended like Dirty Harry? No way. It’d be far too heavy for her. And okay, sure, maybe she could have got a kill shot in after she got them both on the ground. Doing Keema would have been easy. But it took multiple shots to kill Andrew and they all hit their target as he moved. There’s no way that girl got used to the recoil so fast.”

Amanda took her wallet and keys from the table like she was preparing to go.