12th of Never (Women's Murder Club 12)

“We broke up after I crashed your dinner at Susie’s.”

“So that’s what happened. I haven’t spoken with Cindy since then.”

Rich sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Should I rent a place? Should I live in my truck for a while until I know what to do with myself?”

Claire said, “I didn’t see this coming, Richie. Cindy’s always been crazy in love with you—and I thought vice versa.”

He sighed again. “She’s changed.”

“Uh-huh. You seeing that girl with the curly black hair?”

“Morales?”

“That’s the one.”

“What makes you think I’m seeing her?”

“She looks at you like you poop rainbows.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s complicated.”

“Oh. How’s that?”

“She’s got a little boy. And she’s still in school. I don’t know. There was a spark that took hold and you know, it just feels good to have someone look at me like I’m special. Especially when Cindy is always in her own world, by herself.”

“You sleeping with Morales?”

No answer from Richie.

“Look at me,” Claire said.

Rich did what she asked. His eyes were bleary. He didn’t even look happy.

“People go through stages. It’s hard to find someone like Cindy, someone you love and trust. No one gets to have a relationship all their way all the time.”

“I like kids,” Richie said. “I like kids a lot. It’s not a phase I’m going through.”

There was a tap on Richie’s window. Lindsay was right there and Claire could see she was feeling crabby. Rich buzzed down the window.

“Let’s go, okay?” Lindsay said. “I want to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.”

Chapter 62

THE COOLER WAS packed, what with everyone in there. Conklin, Claire, her two investigators, and I were grouped around a stainless steel table between stacks of drawers full of dead people. No coffee allowed. I needed coffee.

The investigators were used to the walls of dead people, and to having no caffeine. They were eager to prove themselves.

Jessica Kain was young and trim, and wore black tights, a baby-doll dress under a thin cotton jacket, and sunglasses pushed up in her streaked blond hair. Jay Dedrick was dark-haired, wiry, and had a tattoo of his wife’s name on his wrist—Jackie.

The two were friends, but definitely competitive.

Dedrick took the lead.

“We went through every inch of Kennedy’s house. Faye Farmer lived there, too, but it was his house and most of the stuff was his. We went through his closets, his garage, the crawl spaces.

“He left his computer on and we went through that. He said he didn’t care what we looked at; he had nothing to do with Faye’s death and didn’t know who did. We selected some of his DVDs at random. All of them were football games.

“Bottom line on the search of Kennedy’s house: we found nothing indicating that he was planning to kill his girlfriend.”