Motherhood Is Murder (4 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Disconnect

On my way out of the church, I noticed Inspector McNearny and Inspector Jones hovering around the back.
Homicide cops.
I had met both of them while working on my first case a few weeks ago. In fact, McNearny was a good friend of Galigani’s and through that friendship our tenuous meeting had turned a bit more friendly.
McNearny raised a hand to me and gave me a “
not now
” look
.
Okay, maybe we weren’t that friendly.
He and Jones seemed to be trying to blend in with the crowd. They had positioned themselves near the exit and were pretending to be absorbed with the items posted on the church bulletin board.
Good Lord, didn’t they know that even plainclothes cops still looked like cops?
McNearny’s brown sport coat and no-nonsense shoes looked worn and at odds with this more affluent crowd. Jones’s blue suit was more compatible with the crowd, but his austere crew cut gave him that military look many San Francisco cops sport. Not to mention that both of them were as stiff and stilted as wooden chess pieces.
At least Jones smiled at me when I passed him.
What are they doing here? And why try to look undercover?
I noticed Celia, the midwife, watching me watching the cops. When we made eye contact, hers flicked over to McNearny. McNearny couldn’t even muster a rigid smile; instead he coughed into his hand, which caught Jones’s attention. They exited the church.
I glanced back at Celia. She shrugged then handed a card with directions to a pallbearer.
I left the church and crossed the Washington Square Park toward Columbus Street, where I had parked. It was blustery in the park and the trees swayed. I wrapped my scarf over my mouth and nose so as not to breathe in the cold air. As I approached Union Street, I saw McNearny and Jones go into Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store Café.
Oh! Mario’s meatball sandwich and eggplant focaccia panini!
My mouth watered. I glanced at my watch.
Did I have time to stop in and grab a bite?
But then I’d have to talk to McNearny. Eating something grilled was completely different from
being
grilled.
While that meatball sandwich might well be worth it—I needed to hurry to my car in order to get into the line for the funeral procession.
I guessed McNearny and Jones weren’t going to the reception.
Some investigation they were running. Why had they come to the funeral?
I passed the Bohemian shop, and thankfully, because my face was covered by my scarf, neither McNearny nor Jones noticed me rush past.
Once in my car, I dialed Jim from my cell phone.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Me? Great! Are you on your way home?”
“No. I’m going to the cemetery. How is Laurie?”
“She’s asleep in her bouncy chair.”
Hmmm. Why was babysitting so easy for him?
“Have you fed her?”
“She’s been asleep the entire time.”
I recalled the lint I’d found between her fingers the other day. “When she wakes up, give her a bath and then feed her. I left some milk for her in the fridge.”
“A bath?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean, in our tub?”
“No, come on. In her little baby tub. You know how to set up it, right? You need to snap in that green meshy net thing to hold her.”
Silence. Followed by a low “
hmmm.
”
Visions of him bathing Laurie flashed through my mind. I saw him either scalding her or getting distracted and leaving her alone in the tub, or not putting the net thing in right so she slipped under the water, or getting soap in her eyes, or—
“Never mind. I’ll give her a bath when I get home.”
“Okay,” Jim said cheerfully.
No wonder babysitting was so easy for him.

I followed the procession to the cemetery, which was a short drive out of San Francisco. My stomach rumbled and I regretted not buying the panini at Mario’s.
I would probably dream about meatballs and focaccia tonight. Certainly, there would be food at the reception, but probably not like Mario’s.
What kind of coldhearted person was I?
Thinking of food instead of Helene?
I quickly felt remorse as the procession arrived at the cemetery. At the grave site, the wind was unrelenting, whipping us around as though we were rag dolls. As Helene was lowered into the ground, I glanced over those assembled. No sign of McNearny or Jones. The crowd from church had significantly dwindled and I felt even more conspicuous.
Celia stood next to me during the short ceremony, giving me some comfort as she looked like she felt out of place also.
The priest announced the reception at Bruce’s parents’ house in Hillsborough. The November wind pushed its way between my hair, and up my sleeves, still managing to make me feel cold despite my winter jacket. I pulled my scarf over my ears and tucked my face into the collar of my coat.
We all quietly trailed up the hillside. Despite my efforts to keep up with the crowd, I seemed to be at the tail end of the pack behind all the other mourners. It wasn’t such a big hill. How out of shape was I?
Beeps and lights filled the air as the drivers unlocked their cars from a distance.
“Kate!”
I turned to see Celia rushing toward me. I stopped to wait for her.
“Can I get a ride with you?” she asked. “I came with Margaret and Alan. But I think they already left.”
“Sure.” I was happy to have the company. She could direct me to Bruce’s parents’ place, and more important, I might be able to glean some information about Helene from her.
We climbed into my Chevy and buckled ourselves in. Celia held the directions in her lap.
I started the car and headed toward the freeway. There was an awkward silence between us. I reached for the radio dial but decided against it. “Were you close to Helene?” I asked.
Celia rocked back and forth. “We were getting close . . . Margaret and Helene were inseparable, so I saw her every time Margaret had a checkup.”
I shook my head. “This is all so terrible, so sudden.”
“Do you know what happened? You were on that dinner cruise, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but all they really told us was that she fell down some stairs and was unconscious. Then the police showed up and took statements. That’s all I know.”
“Those men at the funeral. They were cops, weren’t they?” Celia asked.
I nodded.
Celia lowered her eyes. “I thought Margaret said it was an accident. “
An accident?
Why would homicide attend the funeral if they thought it was an accident?
That had to be wrong.
Obviously, Celia was thinking the same thing because she said, “Why would the police come to her funeral?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
I felt her eyes on me.
I changed topics. “Were you Helene’s midwife?”
She looked at me curiously. “No. Helene didn’t have any children.”
No children?
“I thought she founded the mommy group with Margaret,” I said.
“Did she?” Celia shrugged. “I guess she was very anxious to be a part of the group. I think she really wanted to get pregnant, but well, we don’t always get what we want, huh?”
That made no sense. Why hang out with a mommy group if you weren’t one?
I had grieved for children who I thought lost their mother last night. Turned out I was wrong.
“What about her family? Parents? Siblings?”
“I think her parents passed away a while ago. I don’t know. I don’t think she had any siblings either. Maybe that’s why she wanted to have kids so bad. It’s hard not to have a family.” Celia indicated an exit from the freeway. “That’s our exit.”
We pulled up to Bruce’s parents’ estate in Hillsborough, a beautiful wooded community just south of San Francisco. As I parked, Margaret emerged from the house. She rushed down the pebbled path toward my car and appeared at my driver side window.
“Oh my goodness! I’m so glad you have Celia! I wasn’t thinking back there, Celia. I didn’t mean to leave you,” Margaret said.
Celia flashed a brilliant smile. “No worries. Kate was kind enough to give me a lift.”
“I’ll take you home. I promise,” Margaret said.
We climbed out of the car and walked in unison on the path toward the house, then single-filed into the grand entrance. Approximately thirty people mingled about the living room. It was a catered affair—no meatball sandwiches, but still a nice layout.
Celia made her way to a table that was doubling as a bar and spoke with the man serving wine.
Margaret joined her husband and Sara in a corner of the room. The three quietly balanced their plates and picked sparingly at their food.
Witnessing their grief made my appetite vanish.
I spotted Helene’s husband, Bruce, hovering near the back door looking like he wanted to escape. His head hung a bit and his shoulders slumped, emanating a deep sadness.
I joined him at the doorway. “Bruce, I am so sorry for your loss.”
He studied me a moment, his eyes penetrating and dark, then looked out the window of the back door at the garden. I followed his gaze and watched as the wind bent branches on the willow tree in the garden.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
I nodded, feeling awkward. Another guest joined us and gave her condolences to Bruce. I didn’t have any more to add to the conversation, so I slipped away.
My breasts were burning and I longed to be home with Laurie and Jim. I glanced at my watch. I had now been away from home for three hours. Time to go.
I looked around for Celia to make sure she had a ride home. I watched as she sauntered up to Bruce. She held two wineglasses and offered him one. Bruce smiled widely, and when he took the glass, their hands brushed and both flushed.
Bruce looked around the room, then said something to Celia. They exchanged words in a hushed tense tone. I was out of earshot but their conversation certainly looked intimate. I glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them.
What was going on?
Celia looked away from Bruce. He glanced in my direction. I avoided his gaze by perusing the buffet. He reached for her elbow and drew her in closer. He whispered into her ear and, with a final look over his shoulder, guided her out the back door to the garden.
Hmmm.
Could they be having an affair?

CHAPTER SIX

Batting 100

To Do:
1. ?
2. ?
3. Find good “how to” book for PI business.
4. Exercise.
5. Plan Thanksgiving dinner.
6. What happened to Helene?
7. Exercise!!!
Several days had passed since the funeral, and I spent the time alternately fretting between what had happened to Helene and trying to forget about it. This morning Jim was working in our home office and I was in charge of Laurie, who was being extremely needy. Every time I put her down for a nap, she cried. Now she was overtired and as fussy as could be. I wanted to work out, but it seemed impossible to detangle myself from her.
I decided to put her into the front-facing baby carrier and do squats. Multitasking made me feel good anyway. What better way to live? Be a great mom and get in shape at the same time! Wonderful!
The phone rang, interrupting my second set of squats. Hey, I could add a third thing—mothering, exercising,
and
talking on the phone. I was a multitasker extraordinaire.
I grabbed the cordless receiver and managed a breathless “Hello.”
“Kate. This is Margaret.”
She sounded as breathless as I did.
“Hi, Margaret. How are you?”
“I need to talk to you. I just spoke with Bruce, you know, Helene’s husband?”
“Sure,” I said, powering through another set of squats.
“He said the medical examiner hasn’t released the final report yet, because they won’t have the findings from toxicology for several weeks. But they asked him if Helene was a user.”
“Uh-huh.” I stopped doing the squats, finding it impossible to concentrate on three things at once.
“A user, Kate. A drug addict!”
“Yeah . . .”
“She wasn’t. She didn’t use drugs. And they sent her blood, or well, whatever they sent to toxicology. Wouldn’t that mean that she died from an overdose or something?”
“It’s hard to say. I don’t know the procedures at the ME’s office. Maybe they send everything to toxicology.”
“But they asked Bruce if she was a user.”
“Right.” I absently rubbed the top of Laurie’s head, which was peeking out of the baby carrier. “What else did they tell him? Did she have head trauma, broken bones?”
Margaret took a sharp intake of breath. “Oh. There’s Alan’s car.” She let the breath out in a rush. “Kate, I need to hire you. Can we meet?”
“Uh . . . sure. Where and when?”
“Tomorrow, ten A.M.?”
“Okay. There’s a cute café near my house—”
“Alan’s home. I gotta go.”
She hung up.
I put the phone down and resumed my squats. I hadn’t been able to give Margaret directions to the café. She’d rushed off the phone so fast. Strange.
But she wanted to hire me.
Jim entered the living room and observed me doing squats with Laurie in the carrier. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Looks like you’re going to hurt yourself.”
He was right. My lower back was feeling a little strained but pride makes you say funny things. “No, I’m not. I’m fine. Laurie’s light.”
He placed his hands on my arms to stop me, then leaned over Laurie and kissed me. He unstrapped the carrier and took Laurie into his arms. “Why didn’t you just give her to me?”
“You were working. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“No problem. You do your workout. I’m going to catch up on my sleep.”
“What?”
Jim headed down the hallway with Laurie. “I’m going to nap with her.”
Nap! At this time of day.
Wait a minute!
I needed the nap. I was the one up at all hours of the night with her, but I felt wide awake now.
“Don’t you need to work?” I called after him.
“Yeah. But I’m out of ideas right now. I need to generate something. Better refuel. Ah! The beauty of working from home.” He disappeared from sight.
Suddenly I felt sad. A little lonely somehow.
I started on a set of lunges.
Funny how I craved alone time, and now that I had it, I felt lonely.
I gave up on the lunges and walked down the hallway to our bedroom. “Margaret called. She wants to hire me,” I said.
“Who?” Jim asked.
“Tutu,” I said.
Jim laughed. He had already climbed into bed and was cuddling Laurie, who was lying on top of him. “What does she want to hire you as?”
“What do you mean? As a PI.”
Jim snorted. “PI? You don’t have a license.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“Did something or
someone
give her the idea you did?”
I hung my head. “Someone might have bragged the other night at dinner.”
Jim laughed. “Oh. Someone bragged, huh? Here.” He held Laurie up to me. “She needs a diaper change.”
“So go ahead and change her,” I said from my position in the doorway.
“I’m trying to nap.”
“I’m doing my workout!”
Jim frowned. “Yeah. I see that.”
Men.
Oh well, it would soon be time to nurse and I knew he couldn’t do that. May as well stay on duty. I crossed the room and plucked Laurie off his chest. She was like a little sow bug, all curled into him. Warm and cozy on the front and soaked in the back.
“Poor thing,” I said.
Jim nodded then turned over, trying to sleep.
I stayed at the foot of the bed. “Do you think if I take the case to Galigani, he’ll take it on?”
“What’s in it for you then?”
“Galigani can’t work the case. At least, I don’t think so. It’s too early after his open heart surgery. But I could use his license, right?”
“I guess that’s up to him. Call him.”
After changing Laurie’s diaper, I placed her in her crib and twisted the mobile for her. She gazed up at the dancing bears and tried to bat at them.
I did another set of lunges, rehearsing how to ask Galigani for the use of his license. Pain shot through my lower back.
Nice. Try to do too much and wind up getting nothing done.
Taking advantage of Laurie’s temporary calmness in the crib, I dialed Galigani. I was still unsure how to ask him, but figured something would occur to me when he picked up. He answered on the third ring.
“Hi, it’s Kate Connolly.”
“Ah! Kate! You must have read my mind.”
“Really, why’s that?”
“I was wondering if you and your husband and, of course, your beautiful daughter might join us for dinner.”
Us? Who was ‘us’? I thought he was single.
“We’d love to.”
“Great, how about six?”
“That works.”
“So, what can I do for you?”
Okay, here was my moment.
Just say it, spit it out.
“Uh . . . well . . . no . . . Uh, we’ll see you tonight.”
Jim shuffled Laurie in his arms as I rang the bell. We waited a moment for the door to open, enjoying the smell of frying garlic wafting in the air.
Galigani pulled the door open and smiled. “Welcome!”
Jim placed a hand on my waist and guided me inside. I handed the bottle of Chianti to Galigani and spotted a woman sitting on the couch. I froze in my tracks. I must have unconsciously taken a step backward because I bumped directly into Jim and Laurie.
Jim recovered first. “Mom, what are you doing here? What a surprise!”
My mother stood from the couch and laughed. “Hello, darlings!”
I regained my composure somewhat and allowed Galigani to take my coat and usher us into the living room.
“Make yourselves at home,” Galigani said. “I’ll open the Chianti and stir the sauce. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Mom.
She smiled. “Albert invited me.”
My mouth gaped and remained that way probably a tad too long, because Jim stepped forward and whispered urgently, “What about Hank?”
My mother hadn’t dated anyone since divorcing my father eons ago. Then recently she’d found a beau online and had seemed quite content. They were even planning a cruise to Mexico.
“Well, darlings. I’m not
married
, you know.”
My mouth, still hanging open, dropped an inch farther.
Mother motioned for Jim to hand Laurie to her. Jim passed the baby over then glanced at me and subtly pointed his chin toward the kitchen.
The swinging door to the dining room flung open and Galigani appeared with a tray full of prosciutto-wrapped melon. “Let’s start with this. I have a plate of antipasto coming up, and let me grab that Chianti.”
He placed the tray on the coffee table.
“Oh, Albert, let me help you.” Mom passed Laurie to me and disappeared with Galigani toward the kitchen.
I hit Jim’s arm. “Can you believe this?”
Jim eagerly popped a prosciutto-wrapped melon into his mouth. “It’s crazy. Can you believe these melons are so sweet out of season? This is delicious!”
I remained standing in the same spot. Too stunned to move, I clutched Laurie to me and inhaled her scent. The new shampoo from Magic Moments smelled like jasmine. I hadn’t tried the bath gel with lavender yet, because I was so enamored with the jasmine fragrance.
Mother and Galigani reappeared through the swinging door giggling. Mom carried the wineglasses and bottle on a tray. Galigani brought the antipasto plate.
“This melon stuff is unbelievable,” Jim said.
Galigani smiled broadly. “That’s one of my favorites. I’ve had to give up a lot of favorites after the open heart surgery, but thankfully this one’s on the list of keepers.” He picked one up off the plate and examined it thoughtfully. “I think it’s because of the fruit.”
“Oh! Fruit is so good for you,” Mom piped up. “Tons of antioxidants!”
Galigani nodded, then turned to me. “Why don’t you have a seat, Kate?”
I willed my feet to move forward.
How awkward. If Mom and Galigani were on a date, what the hell were Jim, Laurie, and I doing here?
I sank into the high-back chair next to the coffee table. Laurie squirmed in my arms then cried out. I don’t know how babies detect when you’re sitting or standing, but some alarm must sound as soon as you decide to take a load off.
Mom took Laurie out of my arms. “Have some wine, dear.”
She began her elaborate “putting the baby to sleep” dance, which included some deep knee bends, tippy-toe rocking, hip sways, and a scary swooping motion as the grand finale. The entire dance bordered on the ridiculous, except for the fact that it worked. Always.
Galigani watched my mother with an expression somewhere between confusion and awe.
I grabbed my wineglass and drank deeply. A little more than I meant to because the wine burned going down and I almost gagged. I watched Jim shovel some salami into his mouth.
“So, what were you calling about earlier, Kate?”
“Uh . . .” I was happy to have my mind engaged on something other than Mom’s dating life and yet words evaded me.
“She’s got a gig as a PI,” Jim said, crunching on a marinated pepper.
I shook my head. “Ummm. Yeah. Well, sort of. I don’t know that you’d call it a gig—”
Jim opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Whew! Hot pepper. Love it!” He grabbed his glass of wine. “Lady wants to hire Kate.”
Galigani smiled at me. “Only you don’t have a license.”
“Well, Albert, you have one, right?” Mom chimed in.
Galigani frowned “Yes, I do.”
Talk about awkward. Not only had I unknowingly stepped in on some date, but now Mom and Jim were trying to negotiate my business dealings.
Mom tsked. “Poor woman! Murdered on a dinner cruise. And her little ones, left behind. What a tragedy!”
I took another swig of wine. This time smaller, more sip-like. This was more like it. The Chianti tasted fruity and smooth. “Oh. The victim wasn’t a mom.”
Galigani and Mom stared at me.
“What do you mean?” Mom asked. “I thought she was running that mommy group you were joining.”
“She was but she didn’t have any children,” I said.
Mom frowned. “What on earth was a woman without kids doing in a mothers’ group?”
Dinner turned out to be fabulous. Galigani served fettuccini with a light garlic cream sauce that he claimed had been approved by his cardiologist. We debated back and forth about a woman we didn’t know and the potential motivation to be involved in a mommy group when you weren’t one.
We came up with a pretty paltry list.
We drank wine and laughed a lot, and thankfully Laurie snoozed in the middle of Galigani’s king-size bed, surrounded by giant pillows to prevent her from falling off. No one seemed to care that Laurie, at only seven weeks, still could not roll over. Somehow, the possibility of her falling off the bed still loomed.
After dinner while getting our coats, I finally summoned my courage. “So, um . . . Galigani, what do you think about my using your license?”
Galigani looked confused. “What do you mean, licenses aren’t transferable.”
“But I could work under yours, right? Like working for you?”
“No. I’m sorry. I’d have to supervise you, and right now I just don’t have the energy for that. Not so soon after my surgery anyway.”