your husband’s fine. We’re here about another matter.”
“What do you want?”
“We’d like to come in.”
“Why? My children are upstairs napping. This is nap time, it’s nap time. I have housework to finish before they wake up.”
“We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
“I don’t let strangers into the house.”
“Ma’am, we’re the police. You can contact Cop Central and verify that.”
“I don’t know you. I’m not letting you into the house when my children are sleeping.”
“All right. Maybe one of your neighbors can answer some questions about you and your husband.”
Fear shot back. “I don’t want you talking about me and Larry with the neighbors.”
“We’ll talk to you, or talk to them.”
“Five minutes. Just five minutes.”
She struck Eve as nervy as a woman holding a hot wire. Jerky movements, anxious glances toward the stairs.
The living area was as shining, sparkling clean as the windows. Not a single toy in sight, not a trace of kid debris. The air smelled like an orange grove in full bloom.
And clearly, under the oversize shirt, Marcia was carrying number four.
Marcia gripped her cleaning solution. She didn’t invite them to sit. “What do you want?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about Natural Order.”
“I don’t have to talk to you about that. We have freedom of religion.”
“No, you don’t have to talk to us. Our information is you’ve been a member for about eight years. Prior to your marriage you had a modeling career.”
“I repented that.”
“Repented?”
“I don’t have to talk to you about that. I have children. Children need and deserve a mother devoted to them, one who makes a home, keeps it clean and ordered and happy, makes them healthy meals, who helps to teach them the true way.”
“The Natural Order way?”
“We’re used to outsiders spreading lies. I want you to go. I have to finish my housework. I have dinner to prepare. I have children to tend to.”
“One more question. You know the Huffmans? Drs. Oliver and Paula?”
“Dr. Paula Huffman is my obstetrician. She’s helped me deliver healthy children into the world.”
“Your husband knew Oliver Huffman prior to your marriage, as Oliver Huffman performed a minor surgical procedure on him.”
“What of it? They’re excellent doctors and good people. We’re blessed to have them in our lives.”
“Your husband was a member of Natural Order when you met.”
Marcia’s eyes darted toward the window she’d just cleaned as if expecting to see someone staring in.
“My husband showed me the way. My husband saved me from a life of debauchery and uselessness. He fulfilled me, and he provides for me and our children.”
“You’ve got bruises on your arms, Marcia. Did he put them there?”
Her already pallid skin lost all color. “How dare you! Get out, get out of our house.” With those same jerky moves, she marched to the door, flung it open. “If you don’t leave, I’ll tell my husband. He’ll deal with you.”
“Feel free to give him my name. Lieutenant Eve Dallas.” Eve walked to the door. “Do you know where he was Monday night? From about nine to midnight.”
“My husband was here, in his home, as he is every night. Go away!”
She slammed the door.
“She’s not right,” Peabody murmured as they walked back to the car. “She’s on something.”
“Yeah. A little chemical help to keep her going, and a lot of indoctrination to keep her firmly in the fold.”
“She looks so tired. And she has to be about six months pregnant. She needs help, Dallas.”
“We can’t help people who don’t want help.” She got back in the car. “Larry stays on the list. A man who’d put marks on his pregnant wife shouldn’t have too much trouble killing. Protecting the Huff-mans maybe, removing a threat to Gwen so she could go right on and marry the proper type, and the type with plenty of money.”
“Which they’d hope would eventually flow into New Order.”
“Maybe not probable, but possible. Let’s hit the East Village.”
“Idina Frank, spouse Anson. She’s twenty-eight. Prior to marriage, she was a teacher, elementary level. Four kids, ages five, four, and two-year-old twins. The husband’s forty, a genetic researcher employed by Natural Order. They’re African-American.”
As Eve drove, Peabody probed a little deeper.
“Jeez, Dallas, she was orphaned at the age of eleven when her father killed her mother, then himself. No relatives willing or able to take her, so she went into the foster system. No criminal other than the assault. The husband’s got a bump for assault, too—four years ago. No time served. It looks like a pushy-shovy that got heated.”
“Older