Cereal Killer

hair and sheet face.
    When he answered, barefoot, wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, his eyes half open, she realized she had blown it.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Connor,” she said. “I thought that since you’re on at the hospital at eight-thirty, you’d be up by now.”
    “I just called in sick,” he replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.
    “Oh, I really am sorry. I—”
    “I’m not sick. I’m just tired. It’s been a really tough last few days. We had Cait’s funeral yesterday.”
    “Yes. I know. I’m sure the hospital understands.”
    “No, they don’t understand. But to hell with them. I’m not going to be there much longer, so...”
    “Oh?”
    He seemed to wake up a bit. He shook his head and said, “No, I’m not, but that’s not important. What can I do for you?”
    “I just wanted to talk to you a few minutes, ask you a couple of questions, fill you in on what’s going on with the investigation.”
    He looked confused, then irritated. “What’s going on? What investigation? I thought it was over and done with. The coroner said she died accidentally of heat stroke.”
    “Well, yes, that’s true. But would you mind terribly if I came in? Since you’re already up...”
    He looked back over his shoulder and hesitated. “Uh, I guess so. But just for a little while. Then I’m going back to bed.”
    “I won’t take long, really.”
    Stepping back, he opened the door for her, and she entered the house. As before, it had the empty feeling of a home where the owner was absent, as though the heart and spirit of the house were gone.
    Since she had been there last, the place had become badly cluttered. Dirty clothes, dishes, beer bottles, and newspapers littered every surface, and the air carried the smell of stale cigarette smoke and booze.
    But among all the trash, Savannah’s eye caught a couple of things in particular. On the sofa, draped across the bright tropical print cushions, was a pair of jeans. And while that might not have been unusual in itself, she noted that they were a woman’s cut and the size was much too small for Kevin or Caitlin.
    And on the floor in front of the sofa were a pair of bright red clogs... also far too small for Kevin Connor’s large feet.
    He followed her line of vision, saw what she was looking at, and reached for her arm. With no great gentleness, he led her into the dining area and out the doors to the patio where they had sat and talked the day Caitlin died.
    She had the distinct feeling he wanted her out of the house, and, considering the lady’s apparel in the living room, she wasn’t surprised. She would have bet a box of chocolate-iced, custard-filled doughnuts that Kevin had a honey upstairs.
    And with his wife freshly buried.
    That was something to think about.
    He sat down at the table and motioned for her to sit across from him. “What are you talking about—an investigation?” he asked. “I thought it was all sewn up. I mean, the ME released Cait’s body to us for the funeral. They must have been finished with it.”
    “I know. Dr. Liu did rule that the cause of death was hyperthermia and its heart-related complications. But there are still some questions about the manner of death.”
    “It was an accident.”
    “That’s what we thought at first, too. But...”
    “But what?”
    “But now, with Kameeka dying so soon afterward, and with Tesla Montoya missing... I’m sure you’ve been following the news and realize how suspicious that is.”
    “Are you telling me that you believe somebody deliberately murdered my Caitlin?”
    Savannah shrugged and said softly, “What do you think, Kevin?”
    He propped his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. He was silent for a long time. Then he dropped his hands and said, “As much as I hate the thought, I have to admit that once I heard about Kameeka, it occurred to me that someone might have done something to Cait.”
    “You have medical knowledge,” Savannah said. “What do you think they might have done?”
    “Who knows? It’s pretty obvious how she died. She starved herself and then got overheated, just like the coroner said.”
    “Kevin, when was the last time you saw Cait that day?”
    “It was that morning, when I left for work. I kissed her good-bye and told her to eat some breakfast. She promised me she would.”
    “And that was the last time you spoke?”
    “No. I talked to her on the phone, later that morning.”
    “What time?”
    “Oh, I