Page 135 of Say Yes to the Death

Barney stiffened, eyes still probing her collar.

“I answer your questions, and then you show me the scar.”

“You answer my questions, you tell me the body location, and then I’ll show you the scar,” Claire ordered. “Was she a nurturing mother?” She continued, broken pencil poised. She shot a glance at Rachel, who was busy rolling her eyes at the concrete walls.

He scoffed. “She was too busy working to be a nurturing mother.”

“What does she do?” she asked even though she already knew the answer.

“She’s a nurse.”

“That explains why she worked so much. That’s a very demanding career.”

“I suppose. It’s one of the Acceptables,” he said, sounding as though he was questioning everything he knew.

Acceptables? What fresh hell was this? “What do you mean, one of the ‘Acceptables?’”

“One of the five acceptable feminine careers.”

Claire steeled herself. The misogyny was already taking center stage. “There are only five?”

“Yes. Hospitality, teaching, nursing, secretary, and retail,” he said, ticking them off on his abnormally long fingers. “And being a stay-at-home mother, of course. Telling men how to woo women is not on that list, incidentally.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Remind me. Who hired me to plan your proposal?”

Barney glowered and declined to respond.

“Who decided these were the only acceptable careers for women?” Maybe a different tactic would get the answer she wanted.

“Someone much wiser than you.”

Time to twist the knife. “Did your mother teach you to sew?”

“I don’t sew.” He looked offended by the very thought.

“Sure you do. I vividly remember the charming quilt you made out of your victim’s undergarments. I specifically remember you zooming in to show me the pair that said ‘Slut’ in sparkly gold letters. I’m going to take a wild guess that those belonged to Courtney. Was the quilt hand stitched or machine quilted? Either way, really unique work. It must be hard to get those patches just right.”

His cold eyes burned, but he didn’t say anything.

“So, your mother was a single mom.”

“Yes, and I was a child born out of an affair with a married man. He paid her to terminate her pregnancy, but instead she took the money and lied. She kept me. Lucky me.”

“You didn’t have a happy childhood?”

“I found some joy here and there. I liked animals. I liked killing them more. It was good practice.”

Rachel pursed her lips. It could have been Claire’s imagination, but it seemed like she had shifted an inch away from Barney.

Claire raised her eyebrows, made a checkmark on her tablet, and consulted the next criterion Jack had given her.

“You used to wet the bed,” she stated. It was not a question.

Barney bristled and straightened. The handcuffs on his wrists clinked together.

“Nocturia is completely normal in childhood, even in adolescence.”

“Sure, it’s normal if you’re a serial killer,” Claire muttered.

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