“All right,” she said.
Arnold exhaled softly.
Cheryl looked past Selena to Victor’s photograph on the murder board.The hard line of her mouth changed.“I still can’t believe what happened to Vic.”
Selena turned a fraction.“You knew him?”
Arnold gave her a look.“Everyone knew Vic.”
Cheryl moved closer to the board."My big sister was great friends with his wife, Marlene, when they were growing up.Marlene used to do my hair when I was a little girl.French braids, ribbons, the whole thing.She'd sit me on the kitchen stool and make me feel like I was going somewhere grand, even if it was only church."
Selena absorbed that and felt a familiar professional shame creep in.She had almost forgotten the depth of Elmsview’s connections.Nobody here was only a witness, only a victim, only a suspect.They had cut one another’s hair, coached one another’s children, shared tables at fundraisers, borrowed tools, held grudges, kept secrets, and remembered every public embarrassment across three generations.
“Is your sister still in touch with Marlene?”Selena asked.
“Sure.”
“Would she come in for a chat?”
Cheryl blinked.“My sister?”
“It might help to get an outside perspective on Victor’s life.Someone close enough to know the marriage, but not inside the house.”
A laugh escaped Cheryl before she could stop it.“My sis?She’d pay you to gossip.”
Arnold nodded.“That’s true.”
Cheryl thumped him on the arm.“Hey.I can say that because she’s my sister.You can’t.”
Arnold lifted both hands.“Withdrawn.”
Selena said, “Does she live locally?”
“Walking distance.She’s not far from here.”
“Can you call her?”
Cheryl’s annoyance had cooled now, replaced by the need to be useful.“Yeah.I’ll call her.”
“Please do.”
Cheryl left with Arnold behind her.The door swung halfway shut, then drifted open again.
Selena turned back to the board.
Marlene Schmidt’s name sat under Victor’s photograph as wife, next of kin, out of town with children.
Out of town did not mean out of reach.
The thought came and went before Selena could fully test it.
The interview room was small, clean, and too warm.A square table sat at the center, with three chairs arranged around it.The wall clock made a faint clicking sound with every second.Selena sat facing the door, opened her notebook, and wrote Marlene Schmidt at the top of a blank page.
She should call her father on the way home.
The thought had been circling all day.Another lead.Another statement.Another trip.Still, Roy Tanner asking about him had made avoidance feel childish.Her father would find out.Better to hear it from her than from someone in line at the pharmacy.
The door opened.
