Motherhood Is Murder (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Second Wind

To Do:
1. Talk with Galigani—what are the real dangers of this business?
2. Stock up on soup and tea.
3. Dust and clean house—yuck!
4.
Ask Jim to do laundry.
5. Laurie swim classes?
6. Be a better mom—stay out of trouble—do NOT endanger Laurie.
The following morning, I puttered around the kitchen making coffee, still not sure if I would be able to drink any. My throat continued to hurt and only tea seemed to go down. It was 9:00 A.M., and Jim and Laurie were still sleeping.
The nurses had pumped Laurie full of formula and it seemed to knock her out overnight. We had been up to breastfeed only once, around 3:00 A.M.
Hmmm. Something to keep in mind.
When we got home last night, after the hospital escapade, Jim had made me promise not to investigate without guidance. He’d said if Galigani wasn’t willing to sponsor me as an intern and supervise me, then I’d have to stop investigating.
Actually, the arrangement was fine with me. I hated being scolded by McNearny. What if he arrested me?
No.
I would be a stay-at-home mom! Full-time mother! Completely dedicated and 100 percent devoted to my little flower!
The temperature had dropped overnight and it looked like we were in for a bit of a cold spell. At least by San Francisco standards, high forties. I planned to snuggle under a fleece blanket, drink tea, be with Laurie, and watch TV all day.
After all, isn’t that what new moms were supposed to do?
No running around and thinking I had consumed something deadly.
I flicked on the TV and at the first commercial break got antsy. I peeked at my cell phone and noticed the voice mail indicator on. I’d missed three calls yesterday.
Hmmm.
No!
I’m a stay-at-home. One hundred percent mom. If I listened to my voice mails, I might get sucked in again. I padded to the middle of room, where Laurie was lightly sleeping in the bassinet. She fidgeted and swung her arms. I touched her cheek, and despite the fuzzy sleeper, she seemed cold.
When would I be allowed to use a blanket in her bassinet? She had broken out of the swaddle a few weeks prior, and keeping her warm in this weather was going to become a concern.
My eyes flicked back to my cell phone. There wasn’t any harm in checking messages, was there? All I would be doing was listening. Maybe there was an important message, even something urgent.
I grabbed my cell phone as the doorbell rang. I made my way to the front door and looked through the peek hole. There was a pregnant belly poking its way through a bouquet of flowers. My best friend, Paula, was standing behind the bouquet.
I flung the door open and a gust of wind hit me in the face. I grabbed Paula around the neck, crushing the flowers between us. “Oh, my God, what are you doing here?”
Paula, a born designer, was wearing a white cashmere overcoat and was wrapped in pink accessories. Pink gloves, scarf, and hat. They matched her cheeks.
She stepped inside and handed me the flowers. “These are for you.”
“For what?”
“I called yesterday and Jim told me you had been in the hospital. I wanted to come see you right away.”
A delicate Parisian shopping bag hung from her wrist. She unlatched it and handed it to me. “Something for the little one. Where is she?”
I directed her to the living room. Paula immediately spotted the bassinet and rushed to unbundle herself. She thrust all her pink accessories at me, even her Dolce & Gabbana purse—also in pink.
I hung everything in the hall closet. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”
“I came home to have the baby!” she said, reflexively rubbing her belly.
“But you’re not due, for what, another couple of months, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, but I wanted to be home before I got too far along to travel.”
“What about David and Danny?” I asked.
Paula and her husband, David, had relocated to Paris several months ago with their two-year-old, Danny. David worked for a top consulting firm and they’d requested he take an assignment in France, holding the promise of a promotion over his head. “At home getting settled in,” Paula said. In moments she had scoped Laurie up. “Kate! She’s so darling.”
Laurie remarkably remained asleep in her arms.
“Who do you look like?” Paula asked Laurie. “You have your dad’s forehead. What about your eyes?” She jiggled Laurie. “Hey, wake up there, kid. I’m talking to you.”
I nudged Paula shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”
Paula laughed and continued her conversation with a snoozing Laurie. “I’m having a girl, too. You guys will be best friends, just like your mommy and me. I can’t wait.”
I gestured for her to have a seat.
“Where’s Jim?” Paula asked.
“Still sleeping.”
Paula raised an eyebrow. “You are the luckiest person I know. What new mother can actually sit down and have a conversation with a girlfriend while her newborn and husband sleep?”
I waved a hand at her. “I’m sure the peace and quiet will be short lived. Coffee?”
She sat on an easy chair in front of the couch and nestled Laurie into the crook of her arm. “I’m dying for a cup of coffee, but I’m doing the caffeine-free thing until the baby is born.”
“I have decaf tea.”
Giving me a thumbs-up, she kicked off her pink ballet slipper flats and propped her swollen feet on my coffee table as I headed to the kitchen. When I returned with two steaming mugs of tea, she said, “Kate, you look great. Did you wear one of those girdle things after giving birth?”
I stopped in my tracks. “What girdle things?”
“You know, like the kind I wore after having Danny.
You wear it for the first six weeks after giving birth and it pulls your tummy right in.”
“What! I’m as big as a house! You never told me this! And Laurie’s already seven weeks! Is it too late?”
Paula laughed. “You are not as big as a house. Where do you get that stuff? I just told you, you look great.”
I pulled up my shirt to show her my stomach. “Look at this!” I said, pinching a fold between my fingers.
“Oh, you’re just a little swollen. That’s what the girdle thingy helps with. It compresses your muscles or something and helps with the swelling.”
“Am I too late?”
Paula shrugged and took a tea mug from my hand. “I don’t know, I don’t think so, I think they recommend the first six weeks, but I’ll send you the web link. You can read all about it.”
There was a product out there that helped you get back to your prebaby shape and I’d missed it? What the hell kind of investigator was I?
I resumed my perch on the couch, covering my legs with the blanket. “Are you warm enough?”
She nodded and indicated her belly. “You know, running hotter than usual. Tell me what happened.”
“You mean yesterday?” I asked.
She sipped her tea and nodded.
“What did Jim tell you?” I asked.
She laughed. “Just the basics. Don’t worry—we still have plenty of things for you to explain.”
I gave her a brief account of the happenings since Helene’s death and ended by saying, “I freaked out yesterday and had a panic attack.”
“I always knew you’d end up nuts.”
I pushed her shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Either that or drive the rest of us crazy.” Paula sipped her tea and winked at me. “Better you than me, sister.”
“Thanks.”
“Yeah. Well, hey, I would have done the same thing. Christ, Kate, you practically found a dead woman.”
“I didn’t know your own mind could cause you to get physically sick like that. I mean, Paula, I was really sick. I threw up and had awful stomach cramps, I was dizzy, I was—”
“Kate!” Paula pulled her feet off the coffee table, leaned toward me, and grabbed my hand. “It’s not an everyday thing. Of course you made yourself sick. Who wouldn’t? Remember when we were twelve and you got your first period? I’m the one who ended up in bed with phantom menstrual cramps.”
I laughed at the memory. I had been confused about what was going on with my body, and Paula, who always knew infinitely more about women stuff because of her older sisters, had to be put to bed with Midol and a heating pad. As it turned out, Paula didn’t get her first menstrual cycle until almost a year later. I somehow weathered my first period without the medicine and attention, but simply went home and found Mom’s sanitary pads in the bathroom closet.
“That was different. We didn’t know what was going on then.”
“Well, you didn’t know what was going on yesterday. Hell, the guy could have poisoned you.”
“No. It really doesn’t make any sense. Intellectually, I knew that. Even if he is guilty of murdering his wife, he’s not going to poison an investigator at his place. That would be insane.”
“Well, he poisoned the midwife at his place basically in front of you. That sounds pretty crazy or
stupid
to me,” Paula said.
“I don’t know. What bothers me is that Margaret sort of set me up to believe it was Alan all along, and now I’m not sure if she really thinks that or if I was duped.”
Paula sipped her tea. “What’s your theory?”
I sighed. “I don’t have one.”
Paula rubbed her belly thoughtfully and made a little
hmmm
sound. “If Margaret or Alan weren’t there yesterday, then there’s no way they could have poisoned Celia, right?”
“Well, I don’t really know anything about what she might have been given. How long had she been there before I arrived? I mean, could she have been given something before getting to Bruce’s place? How long does it take for a poison to work or whatever before someone starts to feel the effects?”
Paula shrugged. “What kind of poison was it?”
“We won’t know until the medical examiner releases the toxicology report.”
“When’s that?”
I pressed my hands against my tea mug to warm them. “At least a week, I think.” After a moment, I said, “How was Paris?”
Paula folded her hands under her pregnant belly. “Very French. It was wonderful, and at the same time that I was sad to leave, I’m ecstatic to be home.”
My phone rang.
“Probably my mom calling from Mexico.” I grabbed the receiver.
“Kate, it’s Bruce. I’m so glad you’re all right.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Paula brought her feet off the table and sat up. “Who is it?”
“Bruce,” I mouthed, sitting next to her and holding the phone out a bit.
She leaned forward to eavesdrop.
“What is the purpose of your call, please?” I asked.
“Oh . . . um . . . can we meet?”
Before I could scream “No!” Paula grabbed my knee. I shook my head at her. She nodded emphatically. I put the phone on mute.
“Are you crazy? I’m not meeting him!” I said.
“Tell him to meet you at the café down the street. I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head. “I promised Jim I wouldn’t investigate—”
Paula waved me off. “Don’t tell him.”
“I can’t lie to him.”
“I didn’t say lie. I said don’t tell him.”
“Do you do that with David?” I asked.
“
Pfft.
All the time.”
“I can’t,” I said. “What if—”
“Stop it! You’re meant for this line of work. Nothing will happen. It’s a public place and I’ll be right there.”
“How are you supposed to protect me?” I asked, indicating her belly.
“Ah, together we’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, the postpartum detective and her prenatal side-kick.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Redirected

To Do:
1. ?
2. Catch up on e-mails.
3.
. Find maid/nanny.
4. Laurie swim classes?—Yes—sign up.
5. Order girdle thing.
I watched from across the street as Paula entered the café. Only the tables in the window were visible. She disappeared; presumably she was at the counter ordering.
I pulled out my cell phone and retrieved the messages I had ignored earlier: one from Mom, one from Paula, and one from Margaret. Mom had called as she was getting ready to board her flight to Mexico:
“Darling! When I was in Napa today at Cakebread Cellars, I talked Albert into being your mentor and letting you use his license. My flight is boarding now but I’ll be home in a few days. Call you then. Love you! Kisses to Laurie and Jim.”
I closed my eyes.
What did I feel? Relief? Betrayal?
I was extremely relieved Mom had gotten on her flight and missed Jim’s call about Laurie and me. But at the same time I felt like I was betraying her. If she knew about the hospital, she’d tell Albert Galigani to forget sponsoring me.
But if I had his sponsorship, Jim would let me continue on the case . . .
Paula’s message:
“Girl! I am home! Paris was
trčs magnifique
but I’m happy to be back. What are you doing tomorrow?”
Margaret’s message:
“Kate! Bruce just called me on his way to the police station. He said you and Celia were rushed to the hospital . . . Oh my God. I hope you are all right. Please call me.”
As I was about to dial Margaret, Paula came back into view and sat in one of the window tables. She placed a paper cup on the sill, then pulled out her cell phone and connected a pair of headphones to it. She put the headphones on and tapped her foot to no music, our sign that she thought Bruce was there.
I crossed the street and entered the café. Bruce was sitting in a table in the corner, close enough to Paula for her to eavesdrop comfortably.
He stood as he saw me and smiled nervously. “Kate, thank you so much for meeting me.” His eyes lowered to his hands and he seemed to be searching for words.
I positioned the chair opposite him in such a way that I could face him and see Paula at the next table. I sat. “It’s okay, Bruce. Sit down.”
He crumpled into his chair looking much slimmer than he had a few short days before.
What, the guy doesn’t eat for a day and he withers away to nothing?
Life’s so unfair.
He had beard stubble and looked exhausted, although his hair was impeccable along with his sweater and jeans. In fact, the jeans looked ironed.
Do people really iron their jeans?
“Can I get you a latte or a cap or something?” Bruce asked.
I shook my head. He fiddled with his cup and nodded.
On the walk over, Paula and I had decided ordering coffee here was probably safe. But while waiting on the corner, I’d imagined Bruce slipping a mickey into my coffee. How ridiculous could I get? Yet, it was easier on my neurotic mind just to skip the drink entirely instead of obsessively watching for any sleight of hand.
“So you were at the police station yesterday? Want to bring me up to date?” I asked.
“How did you know?” he asked.
Before I could answer he said, “Oh, Margaret, right?”
I nodded. “She left me a message.”
He closed his eyes. “Jesus, Kate. These have been the worst days of my life. First Helene, that awful night on the boat . . . Then yesterday. Celia getting sick, you and your baby being rushed to the hospital . . . She’s okay, right? Your baby?”
I nodded.
Bruce swallowed. “And then when you were being taken by the EMTs, you thought . . . you thought it was me. Hell, the cops sure do. They came by my place and escorted me—that’s what they called it—escorted me downtown for questioning. I thought finding out Helene was dead was the worst low of my life. And I think it was. But being questioned for her murder. It just . . .”
He put his face in his hands and took several deep breaths.
I glanced at Paula; the expression on her face was skeptical.
Bruce looked up at me. “The only thing left to happen is the stock market can crash.” He laughed maniacally and several patrons turned to look at us. Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. Christ, I’m losing it.”
I sat in silence, watching him and waiting for him to continue.
After a moment he said, “You wouldn’t believe the calls I’ve been getting. Clients I’ve had for years, good clients, great clients, calling me to give condolences and then at the same time asking me about their portfolio. Like I give a rat’s ass, right now, what the hell their IRA’s doing.”
As if on cue, his BlackBerry buzzed on the table.
“Screw off,” Bruce said, hitting a button on the phone to silence it.
“Have you hired an attorney?” I asked.
Bruce nodded. “Sure. I didn’t know any criminal defense guys, but fortunately a strategic partner I have, an estates lawyer, recommended a buddy of his. Guy by the name of Gary Barramendi. Good guy. Works fast. The mere mention of the guy’s name had everybody over there shaking in their boots, so maybe I got lucky.”
I made a mental note to commit the attorney’s name to memory. I’d ask Galigani about him.
“What did you tell the police?”
“Nothing. Gary put the muzzle on me superquick. He said that a charge is waiting in the wings. As soon as the evidence piles up against me. Witnesses or whatever. See, that’s why I need you, Kate. I was with you the entire time up on the deck. You know I didn’t poison Celia.”
There had been a while he’d been gone. I had been on the phone with Mom.
I bit my lips.
And then, what about before I arrived? Surely he could have given her something before I got there.
“I don’t think you poisoned her while I was there. She was already feeling ill when I got there.”
Bruce looked crestfallen. “You think I did it.”
I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally.
A few strangers wandered into the café and proceeded to order at the counter. The whipping sounds of milk being steamed and the smell of espresso made my mouth water.
Bruce frowned. “But why would I try to hurt Celia when I knew you were coming over? That would be insane! I know you’re a PI, for Christ’s sake!”
“It does set you up with a pretty nice alibi.”
Bruce scratched his head. “This is going from bad to worse. You think I asked you over for lunch so I could poison Celia and then point to you as the witness who says I didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know how likely that possibility is, Bruce.” I pressed my lips together and fixed my eyes on him.
He covered his mouth. “This is rich.” He fiddled with his empty coffee cup and muttered, “I need a real frigging drink.” He closed his eyes and stewed.
I glanced at Paula, she nodded encouragingly at me.
I still couldn’t think of why he would want to hurt Celia, so I asked, “Why did they say you poisoned her anyhow?”
His eyes flicked open. “What?”
“What motive did the cops try and pin on you?”
Bruce smiled sadly. “They didn’t give me a motive, per se. The questions they asked all centered around how Celia must have known something. Must have had something on me and I would have wanted her out of the way. And they didn’t disguise the fact that they thought I was stupid for trying to kill her in front of you. Sort of like a jackass drawing a neon arrow above his own head.”
“What can you tell me about Margaret?”
Bruce shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“Was her husband cheating on her?”
He glanced at his nails, suddenly looking spent. “See, that’s something Helene would have known. And if she did, she never said anything about it to me. What does Margaret say about it?”
“She thinks her husband is trying to kill her, that he mistakenly killed Helene that night instead.”
The color drained from Bruce’s face. He looked as if I’d landed a punch square in the solar plexus. “What!”
“I believed her at first, but now it makes no sense. Alan didn’t poison Celia yesterday.”
Bruce turned red and raised his voice. “We don’t even know if she was poisoned yet.”
Paula sat up at attention.
Bruce covered his face with his hands. “I can’t take much more of this. I need those toxicology results to come out, so I can prove that I had nothing to do with any of this.”
“How would you prove that?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Hopefully, Gary can think of a way. Will you talk to him?”
I sat back in my chair, a bit stunned. “About what?”
“Tell him what you know. I think he can help us.”
“Us?”
“Well, okay, me. Gary can help me, but I think you need to help Gary.”
I saw Paula craning to get my attention. Once she had it, she nodded firmly.
“All right, I’ll meet with Gary. Give him my number, and he and I can set up a meeting.”
Bruce nodded distractedly as he picked up his BlackBerry and pressed several buttons. His fingers flashed across the phone. When he’d finished, he looked up at me. “Okay. Done. I asked him to share my file with you.”
Share his file?
I couldn’t believe my luck! I was going to get my
unlicensed
hands on some real information!
We said good-bye and I watched him leave. As soon as he was out of sight, Paula slipped into his empty chair.
“Girl, your life has gotten so exciting without me!”