The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom (29 page)

“So Conroy’s wrong then,” I said, only a tiny bit
disappointed. “So there’s no problem pursuing the case.”

“Well, to be totally honest, here… I do enjoy your company.
I’m afraid I may have given more credence to some of your theories than
deserved, just so I could spend time with you.”

This was both flattering
and
insulting. I didn’t know
how to react. I decided to go with insulted. “How can you say my
theories
don’t have credence? A woman ends up dead in her own attached garage and you
think the fact that she told me she was having an affair isn’t relevant?”

“Normally, it would be but…”

“But because you enjoy my company, it’s not? That’s the
stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” I flopped back in my seat and took an angry
drink of my latte.

My petulance seemed to fluster the detective. “Look, I probably
shouldn’t have told you all this… I mean, I definitely shouldn’t have… I just
wanted you to know what I’m up against if I try to process DNA that was
obtained illegally.”

“What about the note?” I snapped. “How can you ignore that
note?”

“We’re not ignoring it, but even the note maintains it was
an accident. Usually, when we get an anonymous letter about a crime it
incriminates someone.”

I suddenly felt incredibly frustrated, almost despondent.
Tears were beginning to pool in my eyes as I leaned across the table and
reached for Troy’s hand. Maybe I was being manipulative, but if he did kind of
enjoy
my company
, I was going to use it. “Troy,
please
…” I said. “I know
Karen’s death was more than an accident. Don’t ask me how, but deep inside, I
know it. I won’t be able to get any peace until her murder is solved.”

“I’d like to help you, Paige, but Conroy…” He trailed off.
“I don’t know what I can do.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Analyze Mr. Rueda’s DNA for me,
Troy. If we can prove he’s the father, Conroy will come around.”

Now, there was nothing left to do but hope that Troy would
take Javier’s DNA to the lab and then wait for the results to come back.
Whatever they were, I had to pray that Conroy would see fit to keep the case
open. I didn’t know where this newfound conviction had come from, but I just
knew someone was there when Karen died. I could feel it in the pit of my
stomach. It could have been Javier, as the letter purported; or Doug, as I was
beginning to suspect; or even Jackie Baldwin. Alibis-shmalibis! On the other
hand, it could have been someone else entirely. Karen could have been involved
with another man, using Javier as a decoy. God, she could have been sleeping
with one of the neighborhood husbands! Yikes! Not that I feared it was Paul;
there was just no way. For one, I trusted my spouse. And for two, Paul barely
had the time and energy for me, let alone an extra girlfriend. Besides, he had
always thought Karen was a little on the skinny side… or at least that’s what
he said.

Instead of torturing myself with endless speculation, I
decided to focus on Christmas preparations.
Thanksgiving had
passed with an overcooked Grade C turkey, canned cranberry sauce, and Stove Top
Stuffing. It wasn’t like me to neglect a major holiday, but I had been so
preoccupied with other matters that I’d practically forgotten about it until it
was too late. But Christmas would be different. I would be ready.

Paul’s parents would be coming from Boulder to spend the
holidays with us. His mother was what you would kindly call meticulous (or
unkindly: fussy, nit-picking, and high maintenance). This year, I would blow
her away with my festive decorations, abundance of baking and perfect,
thoughtful gifts for everyone. Chloe, for one, was already full of fabulous
ideas for her Christmas present.

“Mom…” She skipped into the kitchen where I was chopping
carrots for dinner. In her hand she clutched a glossy, full color flier from an
electronics store. “I know what I want for Christmas!”

I smiled at my daughter. She looked so exuberantly
child-like that it warmed my heart. “What do you want Santa to bring you,
honey?”

She held out a page and pointed to a device in the top left
corner. “This!”

“What is it?” I leaned in for a closer look.

“It’s a karaoke machine! It comes with an ultimate starter
pack and mic!” “Chloe…” I hated to put an end to her gleeful excitement and
prompt the return of her pre-teen angst, but… “It’s two-thousand dollars.”

“I know it’s a lot mom, but it’ll be such great practice for
becoming a singer. And if you get me this for Christmas, you don’t have to get
me anything for my birthday in February.”

“Sweetie…”

“Please mom. It’s my dream.”

Oh God. This was going to hurt us both. “We can’t afford a
two-thousand dollar-karaoke machine. I’m sorry. Is there a cheaper one in the
flier?”

She snatched it away. “Thanks a lot!” she wailed. “I bet
Tina bought Jessica a
fifty
-thousand-dollar karaoke machine when she was
my age!”

“Umm…?”

“Jessica Simpson! Her mom Tina always believed in her and
supported her dream to be a star.”

The difference being that Jessica Simpson could actually
sing. Poor Chloe didn’t realize it, but she was completely tone deaf. I’d
suffered through enough renditions of ‘Sk8ter Boi’ to know she was not going to
become a musical star.

I put down the knife I was holding and spoke calmly to my
eldest child. “Of course I want to be supportive of you, Chloe. That’s why I
asked if there was a cheaper model available.”

“Just forget it,” she sulked. “I don’t want some junkie
one.”

“Well, that’s your choice, then,” I said, resuming my
chopping. “There’s plenty of time before Christmas for you to think of another
gift.”

“Can I get my belly button pierced?”

The knife clattered noisily on the cutting board. “You’re ten!”

“Eleven in February.”

“Oh… okay, then.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” I growled. “I can’t believe you’d even ask
if you’re allowed to mutilate yourself for Christmas.”

“It’s not mutilating! It’s cool!”

“When you’re paying your own rent, you can pierce a bone
through your nose if you want to, but while you’re living under my roof, I draw
the line at earrings.”

“Fine,” she snapped, turning on her heel to huff out of the
room. “When I become a famous singer in a couple of years, I’m going to become
legally emaciated! Then I can do whatever I want!”

It was wrong to laugh at her mess-up… possibly even
emotionally scarring, but it was just so darned funny. “Really?” I said, my
lips twitching with mirth. “Well, when you’re legally
very thin
, I guess
you can pierce whatever you want to.”

“What?” She was confused for a second, and then, “You are
the meanest mom in the world!” I heard her feet thudding loudly on the stairs
and then the door to her bedroom slamming.

I highly doubted that I was the meanest mom in the world.
While it was obviously not very nice to mock my daughter’s improper word
choice, I had heard of mothers who locked their kids in closets for days on
end. Obviously, they were far meaner than I. Besides, I would show Chloe that I
wasn’t such an ogre. This would be the best Christmas ever. I would find her a
gift that would make her forget she ever wanted a two-thousand-dollar karaoke
machine or a pierced navel. It would be something original, thoughtful, and
relatively inexpensive, like… hmm… tickets to a Christina Aguilera concert and
a backstage pass! Or a day at the skateboard park with Avril Lavigne! She’d be
so thrilled. Although… other than winning some radio contest, I wasn’t exactly
sure how to make it a reality.

The very next day I embarked on my best-Christmas-ever
mission. As I drove to the Aberdeen Mall I knew my motivation was not pure. I
didn’t particularly care how great this Christmas turned out to be; I just
wanted to show up my mother-in-law. And if I was being really honest with myself,
this whole operation was just an attempt to distract myself from Javier’s
paternity test results. In the four days since my meeting with Detective
Portman, I had been tempted to call him approximately eighteen times. Somehow,
I had refrained. I was afraid that Troy might misinterpret my persistence as
flirtation, and I didn’t want to jeopardize his effectiveness on the case. I
seemed to have an incredible power over the opposite sex lately: I had to wield
it very carefully.

Parking the car as close as I could to the main entrance, I
made my way through the massive automatic doors and into the shopping center.
In the real world it was only November twentieth: in the Aberdeen Mall it was
Christmas Eve. The length of the hallway was festooned with gold and silver
garlands, miniature Christmas trees, giant candy canes, and enormous wreaths
adorned with colorful glass balls. Surprisingly, this did nothing to get me
into the festive spirit. In fact, it just seemed to place more pressure on me
to get ready for my in-laws’ arrival. At least this newfound panicky feeling
left less time to dwell on Karen’s murder.

I wandered mindlessly through the largely vacant halls,
unsure of where to begin. The males in my life would be easy to shop for.
Spencer had been talking incessantly of a Bionicle called Krekka; Paul had been
hinting about a new golf bag for months; and Ted, my father-in-law, had a
standing Christmas order in for Godiva chocolates and a subscription to the
New
Yorker
. The females, however, presented more of a challenge. Of course,
there was the Chloe issue to overcome, but more challenging still, was Pauline.
(Yes, my mother-in-law’s name was Pauline, and yes, she named her son after
herself. That says it all, really.) Just for once, I wanted to get her a gift
that she couldn’t find fault with, no matter how hard she tried. Although… if
that failed, I could buy her any old crap and tell her Paul picked it out
himself. Anything selected by her loving son was, of course, absolutely
perfect.

Pausing to get my bearings in the sprawling complex, I found
myself standing in front of the Victoria’s Secret store. There, on a rack near
the front, hung my red water bra—well, its larger cousin. A feeling of guilt
washed over me at the sight of it. It was silly—I had bought the ensemble to
resexualize my marriage, but I couldn’t deny that I had worn the sexy underwear
to meet Javier on several occasions. Why? Why had it been so important to
delude him into thinking I had perky, voluptuous breasts? What had I been
playing at? Would I really have crossed that line? Yes, I had been angry and
disappointed with my husband then—I still was, sporadically—but would I really
have done something so reckless? If I had learned one thing from this whole
mess with Karen, it was that adultery was a bad idea.

And that’s when I saw him. He was at the cashier’s counter,
just pocketing his wallet after paying for his purchases. Grabbing the small,
pink plastic bag full of lingerie, he turned toward me. Shit! It was too late
to duck, and it would be too obvious if I turned and ran. On his face, I saw my
own chagrin reflected, briefly, but he quickly replaced it with a friendly, if
somewhat forced smile.

“Hi, Paige.”

“Doug… hi.”

“Just getting a little early Christmas shopping done,” he
said, indicating the bag almost sheepishly.

“Yeah, me too…”

There was a slight pause. “It’s for my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Well, I’m actually shopping on behalf of my
brother-in-law,” he explained. “My sister loves this lingerie and they don’t
have Victoria’s Secret in Canada.”

“Really?” I tried hard to keep the skepticism from my voice.

“Yeah… so I told him I’d uh… pick it up for him.” He
chuckled, self-consciously. “I feel a bit weird buying a bra and panties for my
own sister.”

“It’s a bit weird, all right.” I made myself laugh along
with him.

“How are the kids?” he asked, after a moment.

“They’re good… How are
you
doing?”

“I’m all right,” he said. “It’s still hard… Some days are
better than others. Christmas will be tough.”

“It will,” I agreed. In that moment, I felt really connected
to Doug. Any suspicions I had about him were replaced by genuine, heartfelt
sympathy. But since he was here, I may as well do a little digging. “I hear
you’re thinking of moving?”

He was caught off-guard. “Moving?”

“Jackie Baldwin mentioned you were interested in buying a
condo.” I felt the need to explain my encounter with his lady friend. “My mom
is thinking about getting a place out here and asked me to check into the condo
market.”

Doug looked a little pale. “Oh, well… it’s just a thought at
this stage. Jackie and I go to the same gym and she mentioned these new
developments just south of here. The house feels kind of big and empty these
days. I may want to downsize at some point.”

“Well, I’m sure Jackie can help you out. She’s really good
to her clients, isn’t she?” He was looking at me like he thought I was strange
again. Or was that the look of someone who’d just been found out? I continued,
“She really seems to go that extra mile, y’know?”

“Yeah, she’s great.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better get
going. I’ve got to get back to the office.”

“Well… nice seeing you. Have a great day.”

I could no longer concentrate on shopping, that much was
certain. Giving Doug a sufficient head start, I headed for the exit. Buying
lingerie for his sister? Yeah, right! What kind of creepy brother bought
lingerie for his sister? What kind of creepy brother-in-law would ask him to do
it? What—did he just call Doug up and say “Would you mind popping to the mall
and picking out a really sexy bra and panties for your sister to wear?
Something really skimpy and transparent would be great.” I doubted it. And even
if there were no Victoria’s Secret stores in Canada, they surely had the
catalogue. The brother-in-law could have ordered his wife’s Christmas lingerie.
They lived in Vancouver, for heaven’s sake, not in some igloo on the arctic
tundra!