The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom (30 page)

The encounter with Doug plagued me the whole way home. He
had to have been buying a gift for Jackie Baldwin. He had noticeably paled when
I confronted him about moving. He’d been awkward and shaky when I mentioned her
name. There were just too many signs. Sure, everyone had brushed it off when I
told them about the wine and shoulder-rubbing I’d witnessed, but this was
different. This was something tangible! Tangibly sexual! Their relationship
couldn’t be discounted any longer.

When I pulled into the driveway I was still feeling
agitated. I needed to unload this burden to someone, but to whom? Paul would
tell me to mind my own business. Jane would tell me I was watching too many cop
shows. Trudy would get all uncomfortable and flustered at the mere mention of
lingerie. My eyes traveled to Carly’s silent house. We had been closest to
Karen. Surely she would share my disapproval of Doug and Jackie’s relationship?

Moments later, I was loudly banging the brass knocker on
Carly’s front door, in case she was in the basement wearing headphones again.
She opened it a few seconds later, looking winded and disheveled.

“Sorry,” I began, taking in her appearance, “am I
interrupting something?”

“I was just doing a Pilates video,” she explained, gesturing
to her baggie track pants and too large T-shirt. “I want to fit into that
little black dress by Christmas,” she added, hopefully.

Good luck. Christmas was only six weeks away. “Would you
mind if I came in for a sec? I really need to talk.”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“Not really.” I followed her inside and sat next to her on
the ivory leather sofa. “I’m really upset, Carly. Maybe it’s none of my
business and maybe I’m just paranoid but…”

“But what?” She sounded alarmed.

“I just ran into Doug at the mall.”

“Okay…?”

“At
Victoria’s Secret
.”

“Oh…”

I quickly detailed the ensuing conversation where Doug
pretended to be buying sexy underwear for his Canadian sister. “Am I wrong to
be bothered by this?”

“No,” she said, “it does sound a little far-fetched.”

“A
little
far-fetched? He’s obviously buying sexy
underwear for Jackie Baldwin! It’s way too soon! It’s not healthy!”

“If it bothers you so much, maybe you should talk to him?”

“
I
can’t talk to him!” I said, shocked. “Doug doesn’t
like me.”

“Of course he does.”

“No, he doesn’t. He thinks I’m aggressive and weird and a
big boozer. Besides, what would I say?”

“Well…,” Carly said, shifting slightly in her seat, “just
tell him that you think he needs to take more time to heal before he jumps into
another relationship. Tell him that you don’t mean to interfere, but that you
care about him and think he should wait for the
right
woman to replace
Karen.”

It sounded completely legitimate but… “I can’t.” Then a marvelous
idea struck me. “You’re close to Doug. Why don’t you talk to him?”

“I’m not going to talk to him. Paige… this is
your
issue. I don’t really have a problem with Doug seeing Jackie Baldwin. He’s
doing what he needs to do to heal.”

“Fine,” I said, petulantly. “If everyone just wants to sit
around and watch him throw the rest of his life away, then, well, whatever….”

“Don’t be like that,” Carly said, reaching over and taking
my hand. She looked at me in silence for a moment, her eyes full of understanding…
or was it pity? When she spoke again, her voice was slow and gentle, like she
was speaking to someone mildly autistic. “Maybe you should just let it go,
hon?”

“I-I don’t think I can.”

“It’s over, Paige. Nothing we do or say will bring Karen
back.” I could feel a lump of emotion building in my throat as she continued.
“You have a wonderful family to focus on. Don’t let Karen’s death take you away
from them.”

I was on the verge of collapsing into sobs when I stood up.
“Yeah… you’re right,” I croaked. “I’d better let you get back to your workout.”

“It’s fine. I think I’ve done enough for today.”

“I’ve got to go, anyway. Spencer has a dental appointment at
two, so I need to pick him up from school.”

She walked me to the door. I turned around and squeezed her
hand. “Thanks for listening. I’m really going to try to move on.”

“Please do,” she said, with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh… one more thing,” I added. “You haven’t heard of any
radio contests where you can win a backstage pass to a Christina Aguilera
concert, have you?”

On the twelfth day after my meeting with Troy Portman, I
broke down and called him. “Hello Detective,” I said formally. “It’s Paige
Atwell calling.”

“Oh… uh, hi.” He sounded uncomfortable. I could just picture
Detective Conroy sitting across from him, asking “Is that your girlfriend
calling with more of her crazy ideas?”

I maintained my professional composure. “I’m just calling to
check on the results of the paternity test we discussed a few weeks ago.”

“Right…” I heard him shuffling through some papers. “Those
results are not available at this time.”

“Oh. When will they be available?”

“It’s hard to say.”

“Troy,” I said shrilly. “Are you blowing me off?”

“Let me call you back.” He hung up.

What was going on? Did he just hang up on me? Was he mad at
me? Embarrassed by his earlier admission? Or was the case now closed so he
didn’t want to waste any more of his precious time talking to me? The phone
rang again.

“Hello?”

“It’s Troy.” I could hear traffic noises in the background.
He was obviously calling me back from his cell. “I couldn’t really talk in the
office.”

“Is Conroy still insisting on closing the case?”

“Yeah… but I’m stalling him. I’ve got the DNA in the lab.”

“Hooray! I mean, thank you, so much. Once we prove Javier’s
the father of Karen’s baby then we can look at him more closely. Did you know
that the leading cause of death in pregnant women is murder by the baby’s
father?”

“Yes, Paige.”

“I mean… we already know Javier’s a liar, and a pretty convincing
one at that. I suppose it’s a pretty big jump—from lying to killing—but he
would have had motive right? Maybe he didn’t want the responsibility of a baby?
Or, he could have been enraged if Karen chose to raise the baby with her
husband. Of course, we can’t discount Doug Sutherland either. He’s got a new
girlfriend, you know.”

“You mentioned that.”

“So… how long do you think it will take to get the results?”

“I really can’t say. The lab’s backed up and this case is no
longer a high priority.”

“Well, the sooner we know, the sooner we can—”

“Paige.” He cut me off.

“Yes?”

“There is no ‘
we’
. We’re not a team on this case. You
are not a detective.”

“I know,” I said, slightly hurt, “but you said yourself that
I was the most tuned in to what had been going on with Karen. I was the only
one who knew about the affair.”

“And I appreciate your input, but it’s not safe for you to
get involved in this. You need to leave it to the professionals.”

“But most of the professionals think it was a simple
accident!” I cried. “There was someone there, Troy. I know it!”

“I’m going to have to go, Paige. I’ll call you when the
results come in.” He hung up.

Now, that was definitely a blow-off. I could sense that
Detective Portman was beginning to think I was some bored housewife who dreamed
of being a glamorous P.I. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I
couldn’t wait until this was all over and I knew what had happened to my
friend. But I had to admit, these test results meant more to me than just
solving the mystery surrounding Karen’s death. They were the key to getting
Javier out of my life.

Placing the receiver back on the base, I returned to the
kitchen where I had been assembling a lasagna. It was a time-consuming project
and the surrounding area looked like a tomato sauce bomb had exploded, but it
was Spencer’s favorite. Plus, Paul had called and said he’d be home in time for
dinner tonight. I was looking forward to sitting down with my entire family and
enjoying a delicious, high-carb meal.

Sprinkling the last layer of noodles with mozzarella, my
mind drifted back to the paternity test. It had taken two weeks to rule out
Doug as the father; how long would it take to incriminate Javier? I couldn’t
help feeling that I was living on borrowed time. When I’d last seen him, Javier
had promised to stay away from my house if I agreed to come see him again. I
had no intention of keeping my end of the bargain. Why would I? At best, he was
a liar: at worst, a killer. There was no way I was going to pursue a friendship
with someone like him—if friendship was really what he wanted. No, I needed to
ensure that he stayed away from me.

But when the police confronted Javier with the fact that he
was the father of Karen’s child, he would know that I knew. Portman would
undoubtedly tell him I’d provided the straw for DNA testing. Even if he didn’t
end up in jail, Javier would never want to see me again. Until then, I lived in
fear of finding another pressed rose or pansy in my mailbox.

I put the lasagna in the oven and began the arduous task of
cleaning up. Paul had promised to be home by six, which gave me enough time to
scrub the kitchen, toss a salad and put a little makeup on. Since it was Friday
night, I’d bought us a nice bottle of cabernet to share. We would enjoy some
special family time and when the kids were tucked into bed, maybe some romance.

But six o’clock came and went… then six-thirty. At six
forty-five, the children began moaning about dying of starvation, so I fed
them. Finally, at seven twenty, I heard my husband’s key in the front door.

“So much for our nice family dinner,” I grumbled, loud
enough for him to hear. “I guess it was silly of me to have dinner ready at six
o’clock just because you promised to be here. I hope you like crunchy, dry
lasagna.”

Paul walked silently into the kitchen. He was carrying a
large basket of Scentual Woman bath products. “Oh, honey,” I said, feeling
instantly sheepish for complaining. “That’s so sweet of you.” I took the
overflowing wicker basket from him. “You shouldn’t have.” I kissed him. “This
must have cost a fortune.”

“Uh… yeah.”

Tearing off the crisp plastic wrapping, I dug in. “Oh!
Sensual massage oil!” I winked at him. “Edible body powder!”

“Paige…”

“I got us a bottle of wine.” I moved seductively toward him.
“Why don’t we have a bite to eat, a couple glasses of wine, and when the kids
are asleep, we can try out some of these products?”

“It’s not from me.”

“What?”

“I came home and the basket was sitting on the doorstep.”

Oh God. My heart began to beat erratically. He couldn’t have,
he just couldn’t have!

“There’s a card.” Paul’s face was a mask, his demeanor
impassive.

“Right,” I said, looking at the small, white envelope
nestled next to the chocolate-flavored body mousse.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Of course,” I said, forcing a casual tone. “I wonder who
it’s from?” The shaking of my hands was barely perceptible as I slid my thumb
under the seal of the envelope. I extracted the tiny card. It was made of high
quality, ivory paper, embossed with an
S
for
Scentual
. I flipped
it open. Paul stood close, reading over my shoulder. In familiar handwriting,
it said:

I C U ?

J.

“Oh,” I said, feigning realization.

“What? What does it mean?”

“It’s from Jane,” I explained. “It’s a… thank-you present.”

My husband’s posture relaxed instantaneously. “That’s nice
of her. What is she thanking you for?” He moved into the kitchen and fished in
the cutlery drawer for the corkscrew. “You said you bought wine?”

“On the counter…” I gestured to a far corner. “I’ll get the
lasagna out before it’s too dry. So… how was your day?”

“Good… good.” He extracted the cork from the bottle. “So
what did you do for Jane that warrants such an extravagant gift?”

Placing the lasagna on the counter, I reached for two
wine-glasses. “Oh, I helped her with some PR stuff for a fundraiser she’s
working on.”

“That was nice of you.” He took the glass I proffered and
filled it. “What’s the fundraiser for?

“Oh… uh…” I took a sip of wine, stalling for time. “It’s for
the uh… ICU!” I said it almost triumphantly. “Yeah, it’s for the intensive care
unit at Children’s Hospital.”

“Great.” He moved towards me and kissed my forehead. “You’re
a good person, Paige. I’m going to go upstairs and see the kids.”

Oh yeah. I was a good person all right. What kind of
good
person
received a gigantic basket of sensual bath products from another
man? I was positively seething at Javier as I chucked the card in the garbage.
I was tempted to throw the whole basket in the trash, but that would arouse
Paul’s suspicions. How dare Javier go back on his promise to stay away from my
house! For all he knew, I was still planning on coming to see him at The Old
Grind. Was he trying to ruin my marriage? Or was there a more sinister message
in this gift?

The guilt and anger ate at me all night—especially when Paul
insisted he wanted chocolate body mousse for dessert. I tried to let go of my
fury as my husband licked the artificially flavored edible oil product from my
stomach and breasts, but I really couldn’t get into it. It just felt…
icky
.
Not physically: physically it felt kind of greasy and a little bit sticky. But
on an emotional plain, it upset me to think that this chocolate-flavored body
mousse was a gift from Javier. I put on a sufficient show of enjoying it, at
least enough to fool Paul, but I couldn’t quell the sick feeling in my stomach.