Motherhood Is Murder (14 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Unstable

To Do:
1. Stake out Celia.
2. Build up milk supply.
3. Buy Laurie swing contraption thing (like baby Amanda) for two-month milestone.
4. Research safety re: computers in nursery.
5. Look up Business and Professions Code, Article 6.
“He wants you to work for him?” Paula asked.
“I don’t know if I can do that, though, ethically, you know?” I was seated at her dining room table nursing Laurie.
Paula had swaddled Laurie in a special swaddling blanket with Velcro closures on the sides and around her belly. When I complained and told her Laurie had outgrown the swaddle, she’d pooh-poohed me and told me that babies slept much better swaddled. I could hardly argue as apparently Laurie had been sacked out since I’d left.
I rubbed Laurie’s cheek and secretly thought the swaddle looked like a straitjacket. “I’ll break you out of it as soon as we leave, Sugarplum,” I whispered in her ear. “I’m an expert in breaking out of Velcro.”
Paula was working furiously on a scrapbook of Danny’s first year, and Danny was running back and forth between the dining room and his bedroom bringing us Lego pieces, one at a time.
Each time Danny returned from his room, he’d hand me a piece saying, “ ’Go piece.”
I’d say, “Yes! Lego piece,” then oohed and aahed as he attached the piece to the tower he was building.
Paula gave me a dismissive wave. “Come on, Kate. You know I’m the last person you should be discussing ethics with. Take the money! Of course you should work for him.”
“But that would be double billing or something like that.”
Paula laughed. “Well, duh. That’s the beauty of it.”
I sighed and helped Danny connect a piece to the tower. He yelped with happiness and then charged back to his room.
Paula scrunched her face. “I promised myself I would finish this darn book before the baby came. I can’t have Danny’s first year looming over me when I have the other one’s first year to capture. But I swear I hate this scrapbooking.”
“You do? But you’re so good at it.”
“Why would you think I’m good at it? I never do it.”
I looked around the table. She had neatly arranged the photos in one stack, stickers in another stack, and colored paper in a third stack. “Well, look at all the organization and care you’ve put into it.”
“It’s all a façade,” Paula said.
I laughed. Danny zoomed back into the room and handed me a Lego piece. “Danny’s good at building—why don’t you let him put it all together?”
Paula sighed. “The end result would probably be the same.”
At home, I fussed with dinner. On the drive from Paula’s I thought I’d had a wonderful time-saving idea. Crock pot cooking! Just throw all the ingredients into a pot and voilŕ—dinner!
When I got home, I realized that would mean I actually had to have the ingredients on hand, not to mention the six- or seven-hour lead time for cooking.
While inventorying the fridge, I grabbed a piece of cheese and popped it into my mouth. Then, I looked in the cupboard for some crackers.
Hmmm, did we have any wine?
I found a bottle and opened it, pouring myself a glass.
I had recently read an article online that allowed breastfeeding moms one to two glasses of alcohol a day. What a hoot! I thought I wasn’t supposed to have any alcohol. Well, everything in moderation. Certainly the occasional glass of wine wasn’t going to hurt Laurie. And definitely the last few days had been trying. I needed something to take the edge off.
I continued my search for crackers.
Maybe I could make a little appetizer plate for Jim and me—cheese, crackers, nuts, and fruit . . .
My daydream was cut short with the discovery that we didn’t have any crackers, nuts, or fruit.
Man! I had to get to the store.
I took a sip of wine, sliced another piece of cheese, and ate it anyway. Didn’t wine count for fruit?
I cracked open the file from Gary. It was a transcript of Inspectors Jones and McNearny questioning Bruce. Only they hadn’t been able to ask him much. Gary had coached Bruce and he’d only made a small statement about being grieved over his wife and shocked about the incident at his house. He repeated the same statement to most of the questions until Gary put a sudden stop to the questioning by quoting a statute and ending the interview.
Short and simple, they needed to officially charge him if they were going to get any answers. And without evidence, they couldn’t charge him.
I grabbed the phone and dialed Margaret. I got no answer but left her a second message. Where was she? She was supposed to be at her mother’s but there was no answer there either.
What kind of investigator can’t get in touch with her client?
I heard the front door creak open and knew my time for dinner prep had run out.
I’m a failure as a housewife.
Jim clunked down the hallway and peered into the kitchen. He inhaled deeply. “Hi, honey.”
“What’s wrong?”
He let out his breath and dropped his briefcase on the floor. “My client put a hold on the project.”
“What does that mean?”
“Did you watch the news today?”
I shook my head.
“The market’s crashed. People are kind of freaking out. So, Dirk wasn’t able to secure funding for the project.”
My mind flashed on Bruce Chambers. His clients would be scared, too.
“What does it mean for us?” I asked.
Jim shrugged. “Well, we don’t have much in the market, so in that regard we’re fine. But if they don’t get funding for my project, that means I’m out of work again.”
During my maternity leave from my corporate job, Jim had been let go from his. He’d been able to land a freelance client and the income had been large enough, or so we thought, to last us awhile so I had left my corporate gig.
I felt my heart constrict. “They gave you a retainer, though.”
Jim closed his eyes. “That’s not a guarantee. My contract states that if the project moves forward, I apply it to the cost of the project. If they back out in the first sixty days, I have to return fifty percent.”
I grabbed the stovetop for support.
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into him. “Don’t worry, honey. Things will be okay. If this falls through, I’ll find something else.”
I wanted to say that I would go back to my secure corporate income, but I choked on the words.
There was no way. I couldn’t go back now. I had tasted the freedom and excitement of entrepreneurship. Even with doubts surrounding a steady income stream, nothing could bring me to sacrifice myself to the doldrums of my office job again.
Could it?
Laurie squeaked from the nursery. She had been asleep for about an hour in the crib and that was the maximum she had ever slept at the dinnertime hour, what Jim and I were beginning to call the “witching hour.”
“I’ll get the squirrel,” Jim said. As he left the kitchen, he asked the inevitable, “What’s for dinner?”
“Nothing,” I called after him.
Jim laughed. “Okay, open a can of soup. We’re on austerity anyway.”
I groaned. “But I’m nursing and I’m really hungry.”
Jim returned to the kitchen with Laurie bundled in his arms. “Okay, screw it. Let’s order a pizza.”
I squinted at him and bit my lip. “I may have good news.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Good. Something to celebrate. What is it?”
“I got a pseudo-job offer today. I think it will keep up our income stream anyway.”
Jim held Laurie out to look into her face. “Mommy got a job offer,” he said.
Laurie was holding her head so well these days we no longer cradled it. Yet as Jim was holding her up and she was looking at him happily and gurgling, her head started to wobble and she suddenly pitched herself headfirst into Jim’s chest.
“Whoa,” Jim said. “She’s excited.”
We laughed.
“What kind of offer?” he asked.
I filled him in on the details.
His face displayed an array of emotions as I recounted Gary’s offer. I left out the girdle-popping incident—no need to sound like a complete moron in front of my number one fan.
When I’d finished talking, he was silent for a moment.
Finally I asked, “So do you approve? Can I take him up on it?”
He shuffled Laurie from one shoulder to the other. “Kate, I don’t ever want to keep you from doing something you want to do.” He wrapped his free arm around me. “I just want you to be safe. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
I kissed him. “I promise.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Watchful

To Do:
1. ?
2. Throw out stupid girdle and exercise—there is no substitute.
3. Find Margaret—why isn’t she calling me back?
4. Get Laurie outfit for Thanksgiving.
5. Groceries!!!
In the morning I looked out my front window and saw our neighbor Kenny washing his van. It was an old white van with tinted windows.
A van?
His van would be perfect for a stakeout!
I rapped on the window. He looked up and waved when he saw me. I picked Laurie up, wrapped her in a blanket, then ran down the stairs.
“Hi, Kenny, can I use your van? I want to check something out.”
“Sure. Is your car in the shop?”
“No. I need to go on a stakeout,” I said proudly.
Kenny bobbed his head up and down. “Cool.”
I observed Celia’s midwife center from inside Kenny’s van. There was no activity.
Wow. I was on a stakeout.
I’d done a stakeout on my first case, but Jim had been with me, so it felt more like I was hanging out with my husband—which I was—instead of a stakeout. And following Alan last week didn’t count because that was really only following—so now it was official—my first stakeout.
And I actually felt prepared. I had stopped by Mom’s to water her plants and borrowed her binoculars, then I’d bought lunch.
Practically a legitimate PI.
And with two paying clients no less!
Where was Margaret?
I unwrapped the bagel I’d purchased from the shop up the street. Cream cheese dripped over the side but the tomatoes and spinach were still crisp. If I waited any longer to eat it, the veggies would start to wilt.
Oh, well, better eat it now. If Celia kept me waiting too long, I could always get something else from the shop.
Wait. What if I missed her leaving?
I used my binoculars to check out the shop.
Binoculars! A real PI tool.
Oh, I was growing, growing, growing!
Never mind the fact that I had borrowed them from Mom.
The shop was within view, but if I went inside and, say, I was at the counter ordering, then I wouldn’t be able to see the entrance of Celia’s midwife center. I couldn’t risk missing her.
Darn.
I bit into the bagel anyway. It was absolutely divine. Either that or I was extremely hungry—which I was. After a few bites the bagel was gone.
Now I was out of food but still hungry.
I sipped on my latte. It was too bitter to drink fast.
Good. That would give me something to do and maybe curb my appetite a bit if I drank it slowly.
I tapped my foot and waited.
What was the deal with stakeouts? Why had I been so excited? This was boring. How long would I have to wait for some action?
What was I hoping for anyway?
Wait.
A car just turned the corner.
Yippee! Action.
Maybe someone was coming to see Celia. I strained to identify the car. It didn’t look like Alan’s Lexus.
It was a Toyota. It drove right past me.
Darn!
I fidgeted around the van. Kenny had some pretty good gear in here. I picked up a trombone. Man, it was heavy. My cell phone rang and I dropped the instrument as though I’d been caught in the act of stealing it.
I fished my cell phone out of my purse. “Yes.”
“Kate! How’s the stakeout?”
It was Kenny.
“Boring. How do you play this thing? It’s really heavy.”
“Are you messing with my stuff?” Kenny laughed. “Why is it boring?”
“I ate all my food and nothing is happening.”
“What’d you bring with you?”
“A bagel.”
“That is boring.”
I laughed. “So, what’s up? Do you need your van back?”
“You’ve only been gone thirty minutes.”
“Is that it?”
“Do you want some company?” Kenny asked.
“Not yours.”
Kenny laughed. “I can bring you some chips or something.”
Hmmm.
Catering ŕ la seventeen-year-old.
“Chips sound good,” I said.
“I can’t bring beer or anything. I’m not drinking age,” Kenny said.
“I’m on a stakeout! This is serious business. I’m not here to drink beer.”
“You have to have something to drink with chips.”
“I’m drinking coffee,” I said.
“Coffee doesn’t go with chips.”
“Okay, bring some soda then. Something with caffeine,” I said.
“Okay,” Kenny said cheerfully.
“All right, see you soon.”
“Uh, Kate?”
“What.”
“Uh, are you going to come pick me up or what? Because you have my van.”
Christ.
“I can’t leave the site, Kenny.”
“Bummer.”
Three hours had passed since I’d first parked the van and now I had a more serious problem than hunger and boredom. I needed a hospitality break.
Should I risk going down the street to the shop and use the restroom?
I thought about Laurie. Surely she’d be hungry by now and my breasts were starting to burn. Before leaving home, I’d examined my breast pump. It had a car attachment for power that plugged into a standard car charger. But who wanted to pump in the car?
After all, it wasn’t like there was any kind of privacy in a car. What did other moms do? Use a nursing wrap?
I recalled a news item about one mom getting pulled over because she was breastfeeding while driving. Now
that
was taking multitasking to a whole new level.
I’d tried distracting myself from my bodily needs by killing the time on the phone. I called Jim to check on Laurie; he reported that Laurie was watching him from across the room and making coo-coo eyes at him.
I dialed Paula and caught up with a few friends I hadn’t spoken to in a while. I called my brother long-distance; he had moved cross-country for work and this would be the first Thanksgiving we wouldn’t be together. I chatted with Kiku. my future sister-in-law. She filled me in on some planning details for her wedding with Jim’s brother, George. Considering George was on probation due to his antics during my first case, things were going relatively well for them and their new baby. I even called Kenny back a few times.
As soon as I decided that I simply had to go down the street to that shop, the door to the midwife center swung open.
Oh yes!
Action.
I grabbed the binoculars and put them to my eyes, only I was so excited that I did it backward and the effect was that Celia looked miles away. I quickly switched them around and Celia zoomed right up to me, giving me the impression that she could reach out and touch me. I pulled away from the binoculars to verify Celia’s distance.
She was half a block away and hadn’t bothered to notice the van at all.
She was dressed in a track suit with running shoes. I watched as she reached her car, a yellow VW bug, and got in.
I jumped into the driver’s seat of the van and started the engine.
Please, Celia, bring me a clue.
It could blow the case wide open if she drove straight to Alan’s clinic and engaged him in a juicy kiss.
Either that or maybe she’d be going to see a client. Then I could at least get a trail on her activities, find out more about her from someone outside Roo & You.
I followed her car to a local gym. She parked and went inside.
There was no way I could wait here for her to finish a workout. Nothing for me to do, but go home to Laurie and Jim empty handed, or empty headed—whatever the case may be.
As I started home, I found myself driving right back to the midwife center.
Why was I here?
I parked in front and walked up to the entrance. With Celia gone, perhaps I could get a look inside. I peeked through the glass window.
The floor was a blue-green marble, and on the reception console matching tile had been laid in a wave pattern across the front. On top of the reception console was a stack of pamphlets and a vase of red roses.
Who had given her the roses?
The center looked freshly remodeled. Where did Celia get the money to have her own center? How much did midwives charge anyway? Was she billing back to the insurance companies? I couldn’t imagine she was bringing in enough money to own the building, but if she rented the center, the lease payment had to be considerable.
If she was having an affair with Alan, maybe he was helping her with the payments. Doctors made pretty good dough. He had a private practice and he lived in a nice neighborhood, big house.
By far the nicest home I’d been in lately was Bruce’s, though, with the rooftop access and incredible view. Suddenly a thought hit me. Everything that was true for Alan could be true for Bruce.
Bruce had great income as an investment banker. And there were those odd moments I’d witnessed between Bruce and Celia, at the service and then again at his house.
Maybe Bruce had killed Helene to get her out of the way so he could be with Celia, but then somehow things went wrong with Celia.
Could I run a search on his credit card? Find out where he was spending time and money? Had he bought those roses on the counter?
I made a mental note to ask Galigani about background and credit checks. Now that I was officially under his wing, he could give me database access to some specialized data providers for licensed private investigators.
From down the street, I heard a car engine. Out of reflex, I turned to look and nearly passed out. It was a yellow VW bug, Celia’s car.
Shoot!
What was she doing back so fast?
She parked in front of the center and hopped out of the car.
Had she forgotten something? Did she know I had been outside watching her? Had she returned to catch me red-handed?
As she walked up to the building, she said, “Hello, Kate.”
What do I say? What do I say? What do I say?
I smiled. “Hi!”
She nodded at me expectantly.
“Uh . . . hi!” I said again, adding a wave this time and smiling bigger.
“Have you been here long?” she asked.
How could I be here long, you just left!
“Uh . . . no.”
She reached into her gym bag and pulled out keys. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood. I was curious about your birthing center.”
Celia scratched her chin. “Really, next time do you think you’ll go natural?”
I laughed. “Margaret practically has me convinced,” I lied.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Why don’t you come in and check it out?”
I followed her inside.
“I thought maybe you were here because you had some news . . . ?”
“News?”
She shrugged. “I guess I was hoping you were going to tell me that the results from the hospital were ready.”
“The hospital wouldn’t release your results to me.”
She eyed me. “Really, I thought because you’re an investigator, you might get the results from the medical examiner.” She sat down on a waiting room chair and looked crushed. “I was hoping that the results would be in and they would show conclusively that Bruce poisoned me with the same thing he used to poison Helene. I keep waiting for someone to tell me he’s in jail.”
Her shoulders slumped and she looked ready to cry.
What was I thinking? This woman had been poisoned. Surely if she was dating Bruce and suspected him, she would have made the affair known.
It had to be Alan.
I crouched down next to her. “Celia, about that day, what can you tell about the morning? Did you see anybody else, maybe earlier in the day? Before going to Bruce’s house?”
She sniffled and snapped to attention. “Just my normal client list.” She stood and crossed to the reception area. She looked at the appointment book on the counter, running her finger down a daily column. “The fifteenth? Hmmm, pretty dead really. Just Evelyn came in for her appointment. She’s getting close now and coming in weekly.”
Right. Evelyn had told me about the appointment.
“Did you go anywhere before Bruce’s?” I asked.
“Let’s see.” She paced around and looked thoughtful as though she was trying to re-create events in her mind. “I had the appointment with Evelyn in the morning at ten A.M. then left here and went to Bruce’s. He’d called me the night before and asked me to meet with him. He said he wanted to talk about the adoption.”
I leaned against the arm of the waiting chair. “Did you stop anywhere along the way? To get coffee? Or pick up dry cleaning?”
Or see your boyfriend, Alan?
She shook her head. “No. I don’t typically buy coffee—it’s so expensive! Four-fifty for a cup? No way.” She glanced down at her track suit. “And dry cleaning? I don’t know if anything in my closet is dry clean only.”
Maybe she could afford the rent because she wasn’t spending money on coffee or dry cleaning bills.
“This is a nice place you have here. How long have you been here?”
“The center is brand-new. Sara’s husband, you know Sara, right?”
I nodded.
“He remodeled it for me. He’s a contractor—gave me a great price. The place used to be a record store. I got a deal on the rent because the area is low foot traffic, which is fine with me, because people don’t usually select a midwife by spontaneously walking in. Let me show you around.”