“I feel kind of mean talking about this,” Randi said. “I mean, being a parent has nothing to do with biology.” She looked meaningfully at her wife, and Rhoda nodded. Clara wondered how they’d decided which one of them would give birth to their daughter. It couldn’t have been easy. “But I know what you mean. I always thought he was kind of an absentee dad.”
Clara nodded. “It never seemed to bother Kristin, though—even before the divorce. She told me that sometimes he seemed jealous of the time she spent with the twins instead of with him. I guess I’ve heard of other men feeling that way, but Benny is just so not like that.”
Rhoda cleared her throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Clara, but I’m not sure you’re the best judge of what is and is not normal man behavior. When it comes to husbands, you hit the jackpot—and I say that as a devoted lesbian with no bisexual leanings.”
“Still,” Randi said. “Maybe he should have spent more time with Aaron and Abby. And maybe he wanted more one-on-one time with Kristin. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He’s the only father they’ve ever known. He has a right to know where they are.”
“Of course he does,” Clara said quickly. She plucked a felt bluebird from Maddie’s fist just as she was about to use it as a teething ring. Maddie let out a wail, and Rhoda handed her a little purple butterfly that she chomped down on gleefully and without hesitation. “It’s okay,” Rhoda told Clara, smiling. “It’ll dry.”
Clara resisted the urge to snatch it back. Her concern hadn’t been as much that the toy was for sale as that it had been handled by who knew how many shoppers’ dirty fingers and was now being licked by her toddler. But her leeriness of germs did not play well in Yellow Springs, where the other moms on the playground were unbothered by their children gumming the ladder to the sliding board and would give her dirty looks for wielding hand sanitizer.
Rhoda sighed. “It’s just that Kristin never struck me as overly concerned with money, even though she had enough. And we business owners know the spending habits in this town.”
Clara thought again of what Benny had said, about following the money. “What were Paul’s?” she asked.
“His spending habits? Aside from those gifts?” Rhoda furrowed her brow. “Huh. I guess he didn’t really have any. He must have left all that to Kristin.”
“The place he’s been living ever since he moved out is kind of a dump,” Randi said, sitting up straighter. “When the landlord mentioned he’d moved in, I was surprised. I guess I just figured he’d been in a hurry to find something and would move again later.”
Clara had never thought to ask where he’d gone. She’d only known it wasn’t far. “Unless he thought it was temporary for other reasons,” she said.
“You mean like he thought there was a chance of them getting back together? Or hoped there was?” Rhoda stared into her coffee. “Okay, now I feel like kind of a bitch. Maybe I shouldn’t have discounted what he said on TV after all.”
“I never got the impression reconciliation was an option for Kristin,” Clara said carefully.
“Well,” Randi said, “if Dr. Paul couldn’t take the hint before, I’m pretty sure he’s gotten the idea now.”
*
The room Clara was led to looked more like it belonged in a real estate office than a police station. Cushioned chairs, potted plants, even framed line drawings of local landmarks—the old gristmill, the new brewery. Leave it to Yellow Springs to dispense with the cold, surgical feel of the interrogation rooms from televised crime dramas and—Clara happened to know from unfortunate experience—from the precincts in Cincinnati.
Still, that didn’t stop it from bringing back memories. Clara pushed them aside to focus on Detective Bryant. He was shaking her hand, thanking her for coming, introducing his partner, Detective Marks, an austere-looking middle-aged woman dressed in slacks and a button-down, her hair back in a tight knot. She brought to mind a school principal Clara had had, one who was always reminding the students of the spelling of her title by assuring them she was their pal. They’d quickly learned that she wasn’t, though, as she doled out detention generously and at random, like candy at a parade. Not even the good kids were safe.
“Detective Marks and I are part of a task force working various aspects of the case,” he was explaining now. “So I can assure you this situation with your neighbor is a priority.”
Clara wasn’t sure how to respond. Thanks? She nodded.
“I know you were caught off guard yesterday, as everyone was. We’ve been interviewing friends and family, coworkers, teachers—covering the bases, of course. But we wanted to circle back and see if anything else has come to mind, now that you’ve had some time to process this.”
She bit her lip. “I’ve been replaying Saturday night over and over. But everything just seemed so normal.”
“Your other neighbors don’t seem to recall Saturday night very well,” he said. “Sounds like you ladies know how to have a good time!” He laughed good-naturedly. “So if you could tell us more about it, that might be a help.”
She cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t appear as nervous as she felt.
“You mentioned she talked a bit about her divorce, that it wasn’t really affecting the kids. What about her? Did she say anything about how she felt about things?”
Clara thought for a moment. “Just kind of dismissive stuff,” she said. “I don’t think she really wanted to talk about it, but someone asked.”
“What kind of dismissive stuff?”
She shifted in her seat. Being here felt like betraying a confidence. “She said she wasn’t cut out to be a doctor’s wife. She mentioned the rough hours, like I told you before.” Clara tried to picture Kristin in the firelight, wineglass in hand, tangle of dark curls billowing around her head. And suddenly, she could see her saying something else. “She said he would sink into horrible moods when something went wrong with a patient.”
“And that was often?”
“‘More often than you might think,’ she said. I think those were her exact words.”
“Okay. Good. Anything else?”
What had happened next was something Clara had been replaying in her mind since yesterday. “At least two good things came from the marriage,” Clara had reassured Kristin, alluding to the twins, expecting her to agree. But Kristin hadn’t given her so much as a nod. She’d merely stared off into space, allowing an awkward silence to wrap around the fire circle. Clara had suddenly, inexplicably felt so foolish that her face had flushed.
Now, of course, she understood why. The twins hadn’t come from the marriage. That would have been as good a time as any for Kristin to tell her. But she hadn’t.
Clara shook her head.
“Mrs. Tiffin—”
“Clara.”
“Clara. As far as we can tell, you knew Kristin just about as well as anybody did.”
If that was a fact, Clara couldn’t help thinking it a bit sad. Much as she loved Kristin and their young friendship, she could list a whole host of people who surely knew her own self better than the woman she’d lived next door to for just over a year. There were her college roommates, still tightly bonded though they’d scattered like seeds after graduation, and old coworkers back in Cincinnati, who kept a standing lunch date every other month at a midpoint restaurant, and the wives of Benny’s old friends …
Although she had to admit, she’d seen less and less of all of them since she’d had kids and followed Benny here, an hour away from their old home base. Maybe the same had been happening to Kristin, for longer.
The detective continued. “I’ve interviewed a whole group of women who had regular playdates with Kristin and her children, and no one can tell me much about her. It’s almost odd.”
Feeling a surge of loyalty toward her friend, Clara leveled her gaze at him. “Have you ever been on a playdate with kids that age?” she asked.
“No kids.”
“Well, take it from me, you can’t get a word in edgewise.”