“Serious about what, Ms. . . .”
“Cranner. Stephanie Cranner. Ev told me you’d been asking him lots of questions about Julie. That you probably suspected him because he was the ex.” Her hand rose toward the bruised cheek, then stopped and dropped into her lap. “That’s ridiculous.”
“He told you we suspected him,” said Milo.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” said Stephanie Cranner. Pleasant voice—youthful, lilting, but strained by anxiety. Everything about her radiated youth and health. Except the bruise.
“Did Mr. Kipper do that to you?”
The brown eyes dropped. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. It has nothing to do with Julie—not her murder, anyway.”
Milo slumped, made himself as small as possible, nonthreatening.
Stephanie Cranner sat up straighter. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“You just got here,” said Milo. “Usually you take forty minutes for lunch.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve been watching me?”
He shrugged.
“That’s outrageous,” she said. “I haven’t done anything. I just happen to be in love with Ev.” A beat. “And he loves me.”
Milo eyed the swollen cheek. “First time he’s done that?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“Ah.”
“It is,” she said. “Absolutely the first time. That’s why I don’t want to make a big deal. Please.”
“Sure,” said Milo.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
He made no move to leave.
She said, “May I go now, Lieutenant? Please?”
Milo swiveled, eased himself a little closer, made eye contact. “Ms. Cranner, I have absolutely no desire to make your life difficult. I work Homicide, not Domestic Violence. Though I should tell you, the two aren’t always unrelated.”
Stephanie Cranner gaped at him. “This is unbelievable. You’re saying . . .”
“I’d be less concerned about your well-being if I knew what happened.”
“What happened was Ev and I had . . . words. A fight. It was my fault, I lost it. Got physical and started shoving at him, kept shoving, really shoving hard. He took it for a while, then finally he shoved me back.”
“With his fist?”
“With his hand,” she said, showing Milo a smooth palm. She wore two rings on each hand. Cheap stuff—thin gold, semiprecious stones. No diamond solitaire.
“His open hand did that?”
“Yes, it did, Lieutenant. Because I was charging him and the movement—all the force, we collided. Believe me, he was a lot more upset than me. Got down on his knees and begged forgiveness.”
“Did you grant it?” said Milo.
“Of course, I did. There was nothing to forgive.” She thumped a firm bosom. “I started it. He was defending himself.”
Milo sipped iced tea and let several moments pass.
“Lunching alone, today,” he said.
“He’s in a meeting.”
“Ah.” Using the old shrink word, again. After riding Alex about it for years, he’d found it a useful tool.
“He is,” said Stephanie Cranner. “If you don’t believe me, you can check.”
“And you were in the mood to be alone.”
“Is that a crime?”
“What got you so upset that you shoved him, Ms. Cranner?”
“I don’t see why I have to talk about it.”
“You don’t.”
“Then I won’t.”
Milo smiled.
She said, “You’re not going to let go of this.”
“I’ve got a job to do.”
“Look,” she said, “if you have to know, the fight was about Julie. Which is exactly why you’re wasting your time looking at Ev.”
She folded her arms across her chest, looked smug. As if that explained it all.
Milo said, “You lost me, Ms. Cranner.”
“Pu-leeze,” she said. “Don’t you get it? Ev loved Julie. Still does. That’s what ticked me off. He loves me but he also—he can’t get Julie out of his head. Even with her being . . . since she died, he can’t . . .” A blush spread from her neck to her hairline, a reaction so sudden and deeply pigmented that it appeared cartoonish.
“Since she died he can’t what?” said Milo.
Stephanie Cranner mumbled.
“Pardon?”
“You know.”
Milo said nothing.
“Shit,” said Stephanie Cranner. “Me and my big mouth.” Her fingertips grazed his sleeves. She batted her lashes and flipped her hair and shot him a sick smile. “Please, Lieutenant, don’t tell him I said anything about . . . please don’t tell him, he’d . . .”