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It took a moment before I recognized her as the distant figure I'd seen in a doorway yesterday: Tiffany Radu.
I offered my hand and said, "Savannah Levine. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Radu."
She gripped the carriage tighter. "He's not a killer."
"I'm an independent investigator. I have nothing to gain by sending your husband to jail if he's innocent."
"I don't want you coming around the house."
"I don't intend to."
"You already have."
"Um, no. The closest I've been to your house is the police station, which is across the road. The only time I've spoken to your husband is this morning, when he bumped my bike with his SUV. Even then, I didn't question him, let alone accuse him--"
"You'd better not. I won't have my children hearing people say their father is a murderer."
"They won't hear it from me." Given that I'd heard the older two were school age, I was pretty sure they'd heard already. "If you'll excuse me ..."
I tried to sidestep, but she used her carriage as a roadblock. Now, normally, no one gets in my way like that, but I drew the line at shoving sleeping babies.
She scowled up at me. "I want you to--"
"--stay away from your house, your husband, your kids. I get it. But you know what? If you really want to protect your kids, tell your husband to stop screwing around or, if he has to and you're okay with that, to be discreet. Because your kids are going to find out about that, and when they do, they'll hate him for treating you like garbage, and they'll hate you for putting up with it."
"Who are you to be giving marital advice?" She pointedly stared at my ring-free left hand.
"Well, if you're going to stand in my way, I have to talk about something. So you're okay with Cody screwing his way through every girl who's too drunk or doped up to notice what a sleaze he is?"
Her eyes narrowed, mouth opening, but nothing coming out.
"I bet you are okay with it," I said. "At least if it means he's knocking them around instead of you. It's not like you'd feel threatened by women like Ginny Thompson."
Across the road, Megan appeared, leading eight girls, the mother hen with her chicks, waving at the new girl dawdling at the back. The new girl was watching Tiffany and me, squinting nearsightedly, as if she recognized us, but couldn't remember from where.
"But Claire was different," I continued as the girls trooped into a store. "Claire was young, pretty, educated. She was competition."
"My husband never even met Claire Kennedy."
"I heard otherwise. If Claire was at that commune, she must have been as vulnerable as Ginny. Cody likes them vulnerable. Makes him feel like a man, apparently. More than you do."
Her hand flew up to slap me. I caught her by the wrist. She yanked away, twisting to claw the underside of my arm.
"Ow," I said, frowning at the scratches. "Are your nails clean? Because if I get infected--"
"Stay away from my family or you'll be sorry."
"Did you threaten Ginny like this, too? Guess I'll have to check those autopsy photos for claw marks. Now, if you'll excuse me ..."
I put out a hand to block the stroller and walked past.
The gossips of Columbus might be an old-fashioned bunch, pointing fingers at the guys when they had a killer on the loose. But between Tiffany and Megan, I was kinda liking the ladies for this one.
TIFFANY DIDN'T LET me get away that easily. She tried to follow as fast as her short legs would carry her. I just sauntered along, letting my stride eat up the sidewalk. Then my cell rang. "Light My Fire."
"My Jeep needs a new top," Adam said in greeting.
"Uh-huh. I thought I mentioned this after I was rained on all the way to Seattle."
