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Cody did not smile when he grabbed his crotch.

“I’m here to see your wife,” she informed him.

“Huh?” He frowned as if she were speaking Chinese.

“Your wife, Cassie.”

“You’re not the stripper?”

Jesus!Cody’s heart briefly went out to the woman who was going to show up here to entertain this bunch of thickos. Just like pizza and beer, they would consider her as a commodity instead of a real human being. Something,instead of someone, that they could just place an order for.

“Detective Miller, Lewiston P.D.,” she repeated sharply. “Is your wife here, Mr. Winters?”

“Pfft. ‘Course she ain’t here.” One of the friends snorted as if the question were a personal insult to him. “This is our poker night. Right, Jack?”

“Right,” Winters approved in a jovial tone.

His eyes never left her face, though, and they told a different story. His gaze was cold, calculating. Cody watched it linger, no longer on her breasts but on the concealed weapon under her shirt. She was glad he was aware of its presence.

“Let’s talk in private, shall we?” she invited.

He dragged his feet to the main lounge, no doubt wanting to signal with this that her presence was a huge inconvenience. As if she cared. While he dropped his heavy frame in the middle of the L-shaped sofa that lined the corner, she looked for signs that a woman also lived in this space. A single flower drooped over the rim of a long-necked glass vase on the windowsill. Dead flower, Cody noted, and hoped it was not a sign of things to come. One of the cushions that Winters carelessly used as a prop for his booted foot was the same cream color as the carpet, minus a few stains. Someone may have tried to accessorize a bit in here; fair to say it was not him.

“Where is your wife, Mr. Winters?” Cody asked.

“Hell if I know,” was his reply.

“Does she live here with you?”

“Huh.”

“Was that a yes?”

“Nah.”

Though he did not smile, she could see he took pleasure in controlling the exchange. Thought he was in charge. It would be her pleasure to demonstrate otherwise.

“I suggest you cooperate with me right here and now, Mr. Winters,” she advised him. “Or, if you prefer, I can put you in handcuffs and drive you to the station. You can cooperate there in the morning, seeing as it’ll be too late by then to continue this interview.”

“She used to live here,” he said with a snarl.

“When did she leave? And why?”

“Day before yesterday, and I don’t have a clue. Bitch always threatens to leave me.”

“Mm. Why is that?”

“Couldn’t tell you.” The exaggerated look of innocence on his face told her he knew she knew he was lying. And did not give a damn about it. “I work my butt off to give the woman a good life, but she ain’t showing much gratitude in return.”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Winters?”

“Construction. I’m a bricklayer.”

His hands were the size of dinner plates, with thick fingers that looked like meaty sausages. The muscles in his arms were not as well-defined as they may once have been, but he was built like an ox and still powerful. Cody figured even just a slap from a guy like him would easily knock a small woman out. He struck her as the type who would abuse his power.

“So, Cassie left the day before yesterday?” she prompted.

“Yup.”