Motherhood Is Murder (17 page)

I reread the report. It was clear that Gary had silenced them before they’d gotten to any substantive questions. They needed evidence. Pure and simple.
And so did I.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Risk

To Do:
1. Find proof to nail Bruce.
2. Where is Margaret?
3. Laundry—didn’t I just do it?
4. Order turkey.
5. Read to Laurie.
6. Sing to Laurie—Am I falling behind on any more milestones?
Paula and I sat inside my car and waited for Bruce to leave. I’d convinced her to watch his house with me for a while, hoping for an opportunity to search his place.
After about an hour of waiting and making small chitchat, Paula said, “Maybe we should call him and tell him the condo is on fire and that he needs to leave right away.”
I laughed. “It’s not a bad idea. What kind of believable reason to get him out immediately could we use?”
“A fire’s not believable?” she asked.
“No. I think he’d notice pretty fast that the place wasn’t on fire. No firefighters, fire trucks, et cetera.”
“I could set the place on fire,” Paula offered.
“No.”
“Okay, how about I set you on fire for dragging me along, then when the firefighters come and Bruce peeks out of his condo to see what the commotion is about, I sneak into his place and search it,” Paula said.
“I hate to break it to you, but a pregnant woman can’t really ‘sneak’ around.”
“Well, I hate to break it
to you
, but pregnant women have a lot of pressure on their bladders and sitting inside a car on a stakeout doesn’t exactly elicit brilliance.” She laughed. “Seriously, can’t you call Margaret and ask her to invite him over or something? She
is
your client.”
“I’m not sure where she is or where she stands in all this. What if we just go upstairs and talk to him? You can distract him while I search the place.”
“What am I supposed to talk to him about? And what are you hoping to find anyway? You think a murderer just keeps stuff lying around?”
I opened the door to the car and jumped out. I walked around to Paula’s and pulled open her door. “Come on, you can use his bathroom. I know you’re dying to go.”
Paula indicated my new Converse. “You’re actually willing to be seen in public in those?” Paula asked.
“They’re my getaway shoes. Just in case.”
We climbed up the stairs to the third-floor condo and rang the bell. After a moment, Bruce came to the door.
“Kate!” He scratched his head and smiled. “Was I expecting you?”
“I was in the neighborhood and I had a few questions for you. Can we come in for a minute?”
He stepped aside. “Sure. Of course. Nice shoes.”
Paula snorted.
I smiled. “This is my friend Paula.”
She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you and all that, can I use your potty?”
Bruce laughed and pointed down the hall. “Help yourself.”
Paula disappeared down the hallway, while Bruce and I seated ourselves in his living room. Concern showed on his face. “What’s up, Kate? Did Gary send you?”
“No. I was just going through my notes last night and realized there was some stuff I hadn’t asked you about.”
“Okay, shoot.”
I was desperate to find out what Bruce knew of Helene’s affair, but didn’t want to alienate him before I had a chance to snoop.
“Can you tell me a little more about the adoption?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t think it’s going through now. Celia won’t return my calls, which is understandable. I don’t know how to reach Father Pedro’s. I feel so badly about everything that I think I should still give the girl the money, you know? Help her out. I mean, what’s two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to me?”
“What? Wait a minute. What do you mean, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“That was the agreement. Helene and I were going to donate money to Father Pedro’s orphanage.”
“You were
buying
the baby?”
“Well, no. I don’t consider it
buying
, more like we needed to give Father Pedro something. You know, get to the top of the line. I’ve got the money, that’s no problem.”
“Bruce, that day Celia and I were here. Did anyone else come over?”
He looked thoughtful. “No.”
I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I had to find out if he’d known about Helene’s affair.
I squinted at him. “What can you tell me about the affair?”
“What affair?”
“Between Helene and Alan. When did you find out about it?”
The color drained from Bruce’s face. He looked as if I’d landed a punch square in the solar plexus. “Helene was having an affair?”
I nodded slowly.
Bruce swallowed and took an involuntary step back. “How do you know this?”
“Witnesses on the cruise.”
Oops!
I wasn’t supposed to say anything about having that information!
Yikes, please don’t tell Gary. Please don’t tell Gary.
Why didn’t I just tell him I’d heard it from Alan?
Now, I couldn’t very well tell him my mother had snagged the information from Alan’s receptionist. That would sound completely stupid—like I was dependent on my mommy for my survival as a PI. Never mind the fact that it was one of her boyfriends who was letting me use his license.
Bruce slouched and allowed his head to fall heavily into his hands. “I didn’t know anything about it. Are you sure?”
“I’m sorry. Yes. It’s true.”
Was he legitimately stunned or had he rehearsed this reaction?
At that moment, Paula emerged from the bathroom and walked down the hallway toward us.
I gestured to the bathroom “May I?”
“Of course,” Bruce said.
Paula reached us and said, “I hear you have a great view.”
I excused myself and headed down the hall as Paula said, “I love views of the bay. Can we take a peek?”
Bruce, still slightly pale, said, “Um . . . Yeah, sure.”
Paula called after me, “We’ll be on the roof, Kate.”
“No problem,” I said over my shoulder.
I stopped at the bathroom door and listened as they climbed the metal staircase. I could hear them chatting overhead. Mostly Paula, Bruce seemingly going through the motions or pretending he was.
I made a mad dash into the master bedroom. There were gorgeous gold curtains and a matching coverlet on the bed. The furniture was handsome and heavy. An antique set of dressers adorned either side of the bed. On top of each dresser were gold candlesticks and several dishes that held knickknacks.
I circled the room quickly. The closet looked in order, nothing out of the ordinary. It would help if I knew what I was looking for, but I was clueless. I entered the master bath and pulled open the medicine chest: cold creams, makeup, makeup remover, and nicotine patches. Looked like Helene had taken Margaret’s advice and bought some. I peeked in the package—half empty. Apparently they hadn’t worked for her either, because that night on the cruise she still wanted a cigarette.
Sadness filled my gut and I felt a hopelessness overcome me.
What was I looking for?
If I was Bruce, where would I hide a poison? Certainly not in the bathroom. That would be obvious. I returned to the bedroom. If he still had anything incriminating, which he probably didn’t—unless he was planning on poisoning someone else . . .
Paula was alone with him upstairs.
Fear raced through me and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I knew she was fine. It was more likely that I’d be caught snooping than anything happening to Paula.
If I were Bruce, I would hide poison . . . where?
I went to one of the dressers and pulled opened the top drawer. My hands were shaking. The drawer held ties and silk handkerchiefs. The balance of the dresser held clothes, and the closest thing I got to poison was a few mothballs.
On top of the dresser the little gold dish held a pair of cuff links and some loose change.
I had to get out of the room. They could return at any second and I would be caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
For my final snooping, because it is beyond my nature to stop myself from snooping before I actually have to, I yanked open Helene’s top drawer. It was filled with designer scarves, slips, and bras. I opened the next drawer: panties, hose, and some lingerie. The remaining drawers held sweaters, tops, and finally jeans.
I was out of drawers and out of luck.
On top of her dresser the gold dish held rings, a bracelet, and three pairs of earrings. I fingered the jewelry and the dish slipped a bit, revealing an envelope tucked underneath. It wasn’t hidden exactly, more like held in place for safekeeping under the dish. I pulled the envelope out and looked inside.
It was a plane ticket, printed from her home computer. SFO to Costa Rica. It was an open ticket; no date was set. And the
Special Note
on the bottom stated she’d be flying with an infant.
Sadness overtook me. This was Helene’s ticket for when the adoption occurred. Of course, no date was set. They were waiting for the baby to be born. And now what? How would this little baby grow up? Without Helene, Bruce wouldn’t take the baby. And probably he wasn’t a fit father anyway. Celia was most likely right about that.
What about the affair? Could Helene have been ready to back out from the adoption? Bruce wanted kids of his own; he had told me that from the first.
Helene had canceled the addition to the condo. Had Bruce known and just played dumb when I asked him?
It seemed like Helene was planning on leaving him and moving with Alan to North Carolina.
Perhaps Bruce had found out about the affair and Helene’s plans, then he killed Helene out of anger and decided to stop the adoption proceedings.
Then poisoned Celia. Why? Maybe he thought she would force the adoption? Now he said he wanted to donate the money to the orphanage.
Buy his way out of looking guilty.
And what did it all matter anyway? Bruce had hired the slickest attorney in town, one who thought the truth was overrated, and now I was working for him!
So much for my hopes as a media darling.
I felt nauseous. I had to leave. Get Paula out of here, as far away from that murderer as possible.
Adrenaline surged within me, causing my hands to shake even further.
I jammed the printout back into the envelope and secured it in place under the dish. I left the bedroom and returned to the living room just as Paula and Bruce were descending the staircase.
“That view is spectacular!” Paula said enthusiastically.
I headed straight for the front door and tugged it open. “Come on, let’s go.”
Bruce stopped short and looked at me. “Is everything all right, Kate?”
“Uh . . . yeah. My husband called. I gotta run.” I reached out and put my hand on Paula’s waist. Doing what I could to mask the shaking, I ushered her out the door.
She gave me a knowing look and kept moving.
I crossed the threshold of the doorway and jerked it closed behind me. Paula and I darted down the three flights of steps and pushed through the main condo doors on the first level, squinting into the low November sunlight.
Neither of us spoke until we were inside my car.
“What did you find?” Paula asked, slamming the car door shut.
I started the engine. “Nothing really. It just hit me all of a sudden. It’s him. I know he did it. I just have to prove it.”
I pulled into traffic and nearly collided with a yellow VW bug.
“Hey!” Paula screeched, clutching the dashboard.
My hands were still shaking. “Sorry,” I said.
“Want me to drive?” Paula asked.
“No. I’m fine.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll focus and get you home safe. Promise.”
I dropped Paula off and phoned Jim. I didn’t want to be on the phone while driving. I was obviously too keyed up to be safe.
Jim said the only thing worth mentioning was that Laurie had briefly woken up and given him a “scary-eyed” look. Other than that, she was still back asleep in her blue bouncy chair.
I caught him up on my snooping and told him I was going to stop by Galigani’s to brainstorm.
I pulled up to Galigani’s and rang the bell.
Galigani answered the door. “Hey, kid. Glad you stopped by. I got some more info for ya.”
Mom appeared in the doorway behind him and peeked at me over his shoulder.
“Kate, you’re completely white. What kind of trouble did you find now?” Mom asked.
They ushered me into the house. We ended up in Galigani’s kitchen, where he was making Mom some homemade osso bucco for dinner.
As the smell of garlic and onions frying in olive oil permeated the kitchen, I absently wondering if Mom’s other beau, Hank, could cook.
I recounted for them my search of Bruce’s place and my suspicions about his not wanting to go through with the adoption.
“I freaked myself out so bad being there and I didn’t want to put Paula in any danger. So we ran out as fast as we could,” I finished.
“Well,” Galigani said. “It’s never a bad idea to flee the scene if you’re getting any kind of signal about danger.”
Mom nodded and rubbed my back. “Do you want something warm to drink? Tea?”
“Tea?” Galigani chuckled. “How about a brandy?”
I declined. “What information do you have for me?”
Galigani stirred the onions, a delicious sizzling and popping sound filling the room. “I heard from Jones, the tox report is in. Helene was killed with a lethal dose of fentanyl. Celia was exposed to fentanyl but did not absorb a lethal dose and your results—”
I cleared my throat as loudly as I could and launched myself up from the table. Galigani, who was standing by the stovetop, immediately stopped talking and stared at me.
I hadn’t told Mom about Laurie’s and my hospital stay.
Mom squinted at us. “What about Kate’s results?”
“Kate’s results . . . in that report . . .” Galigani turned his back to Mom, stirred the onions, and winked at me. “The one you were preparing for Gary . . . I’d say . . . Oh, Vera!” He pulled the pan away from the flame. “I need some wine to add to this . . . would you mind? In the dining room above the china cabinet, there’s a nice selection of red. Why don’t you pick one?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending, the both of you!” She harrumphed, stomping into the dining room. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
As soon as the swinging door closed behind Mom, Galigani whispered, “Negative. Nothing in your system and Laurie was clear, too.”
Although I had suspected this, I found myself clapping my hand to my chest in relief and collapsing back into the chair with a sigh.
Galigani nodded and placed the pan back over the flame. “Curious, though, that Celia’s dosage wasn’t lethal, isn’t it?”
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“Either a botched attempt or a warning? Not sure.”
I arrived home in a panic. I’d been gone five hours and it felt like a lifetime. I ran upstairs and found Jim on the computer and the house eerily silent.
“Where’s Laurie?” I asked.
“Hi, honey,” Jim said, absently kissing me.
“Where’s my little rose petal?” I demanded, trying to keep hysteria out of my voice.