I knew in the front of my head that this was stupid. It's not his kitchen, Richard said, and he was angry again. He was back to his usual smiling neutrality, back to making as few demands on me as possible, but I'd seen that first look. Stevie wouldn't have gotten into a car with strangers, Barbara said firmly, and neither would Cathy.
Richard jerked away from my hand, stepped back from me, and I couldn't read his face now. It had to be someone he knew, or she knew. Murder first, personal stuff later, that had to be the order of things, or you lost your way. Just once I'd like to see the men have to hold flowers and the women fork over the jewelry.
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