Sleep Like a Baby

by Charlaine Harris

  But that’s not important in the grand scheme of things, I told myself sternly. When I thought of the woman sprawled on the grass, her skull broken, her life taken away, some inconvenience and a few wakeful hours seemed like nothing.

  Phillip returned from the kitchen with a greasy pizza-related snack. He made another trip to get a glass of milk for himself and some apple juice for me.

  I was too queasy to watch him eat. It was like watching a boa consume a goat. In seconds the little pizza snacks were gone, and so was the milk. He returned the dishes to the kitchen and came back to his spot at my feet. In less than three minutes, Phillip was asleep with his head tilted back on the couch.

  I looked at him fondly. Phillip was already a man, albeit a very young one. Life had battered him, and he had come out of his ordeals stronger and kinder. Though there was over twenty years’ difference in our ages, I loved my brother a lot.

  Watching him sleep made my own eyelids heavy. Just when I was about to succumb, there was a quiet knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I called in a low voice.

  Detective Trumble was middle-aged and graying, sturdily built, and no-nonsense. None of this silly TV stuff of wearing high heels and low-cut tops on the job. I doubted Cathy even owned a pair of high heels. I’d talked to her before, several times, and I’d liked her. Though the circumstances were bad today, I had to notice that Cathy looked rough. There were pouches under her eyes, and she walked like her back hurt. Trailing behind her was a familiar lanky African American with a close-cut buzz. He was wearing a suit, and he looked good in it.

  “Wow!” I said. “You got promoted?” I’d gone to high school with Levon Suit. My brain tried to make a joke about a Suit wearing a suit, but finally it just gave up.

  He gave me a weary smile. “Yep,” he said. “Last week. And look at me now. Murder investigation.”

  Levon and Cathy sat down on the opposite couch, relief crossing Cathy’s face as she sat back. She must have had a very long day.

  “If you all want a drink, there’s some Coke in the refrigerator, or I could make some coffee.” That was my best offer.

  Cathy shook her head, though Levon looked as though he would have liked to take me up on it.

  “I hear you have the flu and a missing babysitter. And you don’t recognize the dead woman?”

  “Yes to all of that.” I’d been working the narrative out in chronological order while I lay on the couch: Robin’s trip, my flu, the arrival of Virginia, what had happened today. Well, yesterday. I had the order of events in my head, though it was constructed from an unreliable memory since I’d been (still was) ill.

  Then I heard Sophie stirring through the monitor. She was making little noises. “Cathy, I have to go feed the baby,” I said. “You can come with me if you need to ask some questions. Levon, I think Phillip is waking up, if you want to ask him what he heard and saw.” I’d noticed my brother’s eyes flicker.

  Phillip sat up straight and shot me a reproachful look.

  Every bone in my body ached. Only the fact that the baby was awake got me off the couch.

  In Sophie’s room, with the curtains drawn tightly, the turtle night-light gave a warm glow, just enough to show Sophie’s red hair as a muted halo. The shadowy room was peaceful and snug, and I was happier here. I could hear the rain beginning to patter against the window. Even if a detective was with us, even if a woman had died in my yard, I was in a little cocoon with my daughter, who didn’t know death or evil.

  When she was dry and powdered, I gestured to the stool that came with the rocking chair, and Cathy sat down on it gratefully. I took the chair, arranged my robe and nightgown, and Sophie latched on.

  Cathy was kind (and smart) enough to keep her voice low. “Tell me what happened. Why and when you and Phillip left the house. Every detail.”

  I told her about waking up to a Virginia-less house, our fruitless search, the doors we’d used, the path we’d followed, exactly what we had done.

  “You have no idea where this Virginia Mitchell has gone?” Cathy asked, for the second or third time.

  “If I did, I’d sure tell you,” I said, more than a little exasperated. “Mother had gotten good references for Virginia. She hired Virginia to help me when I first came home from the hospital after I had Sophie. When I was back on my feet, I told her good-bye and gave her a thank-you check. My mother actually hired her and paid her salary.”

  “And you called her back again because…?”

  I sighed. We’d come full circle. “Because Robin had to leave for Bouchercon, and I could tell I was getting sick.” Just now, I felt I was going to keel over any second.

  “Any visitors tonight?”

  “No. Wait, yes. Sarah Washington, Phillip’s girlfriend.”

  “I remember Sarah.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you get the feeling Sarah already knew Virginia?” Cathy said.

  “I never saw them together. I was flat on my back in bed and barely conscious. You can ask Phillip.”

  “When is Robin coming back?”

  “Early this afternoon, thank God,” I said, realizing it was now well into Sunday. “I have to warn him to expect chaos.”

  “And where was he? Explain again?”

  “At Bouchercon,” I said, for what seemed the hundredth time. I was hanging on to my temper by a thread. I spelled it for her. “It’s the world mystery convention. You know Robin’s a writer. He won an Anthony last night.”

  “So he was in front of a lot of people.”

  “Yes. A lot.” No way could he have anything to do with this, I said silently.

  Sophie had been looking around in her googly way. She had tried waving her hands and occasionally kicking. My arms were about to fall off, so I was relieved to notice she was beginning to tire. I was ready to lay her in the crib. Holding her, a warm bundle, was a real comfort to me—but I had been reminded again of how weak I was.

  “I’m going to put Sophie down,” I told Trumble. I rose very carefully, feeling weak in the knees. I had to step around Virginia’s folding bed to lay the baby down.

  The baby looked up at her slowly turning mobile. Rabbits dressed in charming clothes rotated above Sophie’s head while the music played—“Peter Cottontail.” It seemed terrible to stand in this room and think about murder.

  “My nephew’s nursery had a mobile,” Cathy said quietly. “It was flying cats. I thought it was the cutest thing ever made.”

  “I didn’t know you were an aunt,” I said. “How old is he? Is this your sister’s son?” Cathy had a younger sister, Carmen, who’d been ill recently. I couldn’t recall any details, so I was leery of asking how she was. Maybe she had passed. I was embarrassed not to know.

  “Duncan’s seventeen now. Phillip probably knows him.”

  I thought she’d follow up with some other detail, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked away, seeing something besides this snug room. Clearly, Duncan was trouble.

  When I was sure Sophie was asleep, we stepped out into the hall and I closed the door to the nursery, leaving a small gap.

  Abruptly coming out of her preoccupation, Cathy said, “I’m sorry, I should have told you to keep the baby with you. We need to search the house.”

  “Oh, no,” I said in dismay. “Why?”

  “The dead woman was here. The missing woman was here.”

  “But the dead woman wasn’t in my house!” At least, I hoped not. But now I felt even more jangled. How could I be sure of that?

  “It has to be done. I hope you consent, because the sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over. If you don’t consent, we’ll wait for a warrant.”

  “Is there any way I could just go to bed? I’m running on empty, and I’m also running a temperature.” I hated to sound pathetic, but truly I wasn’t sure I could stand up, or sit up, any longer.

  “I’ll ask them to search your room first,” Cathy promised. “I’ll do the baby’s room now, and as soon as I’m done, she can go bac
k in the crib.”

  I had a moment of great resentment when I thought of someone rummaging around in our house, disturbing our baby’s things. But I recalled a long-ago occasion when I had actually found something criminal hidden in a crib. I sighed heavily.

  I had to lift Sophie out of her bed again, and carry her some more. All I wanted to do was collapse in a heap somewhere, and be sick in peace. Though I realized this was a whiny attitude, and that I was distinctly sorry for myself, that was how I felt. I wanted to maintain my anger, but I didn’t have the energy. Cathy was only doing her job.

  Of course the police need to search the house. It makes sense. And it puts the perfect cap on the evening. I sure didn’t like it, though. “And after that? Phillip can go back to bed, too, after his room is searched?”

  Cathy nodded. “Levon will have explained this to Phillip. And Levon will talk to Sarah and her family to confirm what Phillip told us.”

  “Can’t that wait until tomorrow?” I said, dismayed at how unhappy Sarah’s parents would be when the police knocked at their door. This might doom the relationship. I tried to tell myself this was trivial, under the circumstances, but … it really wasn’t, to my brother.

  “Oh, sure, Levon won’t talk to them for a few hours,” Cathy said. She opened the front door. “Okay, guys, it’s a go.”

  Two uniformed officers nodded at me before going down the hall to start with the bedrooms. They were happy, and I could see why. It was a good thing to draw search duty inside, when the rain was drumming the ground outside.

  Phillip was still, or again, sitting on the couch. Levon was nowhere in sight. “They’re going to search,” he said, and he had energy enough to be grouchy.

  “After our rooms are done, we can go to bed.”

  “Let me take Sophie,” Phillip offered. I could hardly wait to pass her over. After a moment, he said quietly, “Did Detective Trumble tell you there was a knife by the dead woman’s hand?”

  “That was the shiny thing?”

  He nodded.

  “She didn’t tell me.” I tried to think intelligently about what the presence of the knife might mean, but I found it hard to care. We sat slumped in miserable silence.

  After an eternity, Phillip and I got the green light to retire. Phillip took Sophie to her room. She stayed asleep while he put her in her crib. At this point, that seemed like a miracle.

  Finally, I was in a room with a bed, and I was alone, and I was about to climb in it. I was so exhausted I was scared I wouldn’t hear Sophie unless she cried right in my ear, so I put the monitor on Robin’s pillow. The rain was pounding against the roof. I curled up on my side, and after saying a short prayer, I was out.

  Chapter Seven

  “Roe.”

  I heard someone talking. I groped for the monitor, unable to open my eyes.

  “Roe.”

  The voice was insistent. And it wasn’t coming from Sophie’s room, but approximately a foot away from my head. With a huge effort, I dragged my eyes open. “Robin?” I couldn’t believe it. He was back. “Oh, you got here so fast. I was going to call you this morning. I didn’t want you to freak out last night.”

  “I get to choose whether I freak out or not,” Robin said. His face was stern and serious. Though the last thing I wanted was to wake up to a very unhappy husband, that seemed to be the case.

  “I didn’t think you could get a much earlier flight back,” I said, as my plan of going back to sleep retreated farther and farther into the realm of impossibility. “And you were so happy. And we were all okay.”

  “Roe. You don’t get to make up my mind for me. I get to be scared if something happens to my wife and my daughter.”

  I hadn’t had a moment to think about my decision at all.

  Robin was right.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. “I’m so glad. But all I could think was that I couldn’t bear ruining your big moment.”

  Robin took me in his arms and held me fiercely. “Thank God you and the baby and Phillip are okay,” he said, his voice ragged. “I talked to the police before I came in the house. But I want to hear the whole story.”

  “Wait,” I said, finally and completely awake. “How come you came back early?”

  “Phillip left a message on my cell, but I didn’t check my messages for maybe an hour. While I threw my stuff together, I saw the phone light was blinking. Detective Trumble had called my room. But I was in too much of a hurry to return it. Maybe she was checking to make sure I was really in the hotel. I called her when I was waiting to board my flight.”

  Phillip was a traitor! I’d told him I wasn’t going to call Robin, so my brother had taken it upon himself to brief Robin about our situation. Cathy Trumble, I could understand—I didn’t know why I hadn’t foreseen her calling Robin. She was doing her job. But Phillip!

  “I checked on available flights on the Web. Found one on Delta. Took a cab to the airport. Called Uber when I got to Atlanta. It was raining awful hard, and he had to drive slow. I got pretty impatient.” I pulled back to look at his face. I could see that he had been not only “pretty impatient,” but frantic, to reach us to make sure we were okay.

  It was a bit bitter to admit to myself he had reason to be upset. I had not done the right thing, and Phillip had made the right call (literally and figuratively)—which didn’t mean I wouldn’t be a little angry at him for a while.

  “And when did your cold turn into the flu?” he said accusingly. My husband was determined to get all his grievances into the open, here and now.

  “Uhhh … pretty soon after you left.”

  He rubbed his stubbly face with his hands. “Roe…” He sounded hurt and exasperated and baffled. A lot to pack into one word.

  “You can’t blame me for not calling you about that,” I said, feeling on more solid ground. “There wasn’t one thing you could have done to make me better. I had help, right? Virginia and Phillip. Angel came by, too. And Emily Scott!” (Though most of that help had been completely by chance. Again, I realized I had been wrong. This was a very unpleasant conviction, and one I wasn’t used to.) “I wanted you to have your celebration. I knew you would win.”

  That brought a reminiscent smile to his face. Robin is amazingly attractive when he smiles. He’s not model-handsome by any means, but he has charm oozing out of his pores. His anger was draining away, but he still looked serious. “I wish you had been honest with me,” he said.

  “I wish I had been, too,” I said. If I had an apology to make, I liked to think I was woman enough to do it. “I am really sorry. I was wrong.”

  There was a long moment of silence, while I cringed inside. I think Robin could see how miserable I was. Finally, he said, “But I did enjoy the win. I’ve waited a while.” I knew the incident was over.

  “Where is the Anthony? The actual award?”

  “Still packed in my carry-on bag. This year it’s a little carved tombstone,” he said. “I’ll show it to you in a few minutes. Roe, tell me what happened. Where is Virginia? Who was the dead woman?”

  With her usual strategic timing, Sophie begin to fuss. Robin was out of the room before I could count to one.

  “Here’s my girl,” he crooned. “Wet? Daddy’ll change you. Hey, I missed you, little pumpkin.”

  Sophie made a tiny noise, which came clearly over the monitor.

  “Hear that?” Robin called, forgetting I could hear in stereo. “She’s trying to say ‘Daddy’!”

  “I’m sure she is,” I said, trying not to sound skeptical. “If you can keep her busy for a minute, I need a little time.” I slipped into the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my hair, and laid some toothpaste on my teeth. When I realized I cared about the way I looked and smelled, I knew I must be getting better. By the time Robin came in with Sophie, I was ready for her. While she and I had our little communion, I explained to Robin what had happened the night before. Only the night before! It seemed like a week.

  “So, what did the nanny cam sh
ow?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “When I left,” he said, using his Very Patient voice, “I told you I’d bought a nanny cam and put it in Sophie’s room. I didn’t think about Virginia spending the night in there. I hope I didn’t film anything that would embarrass her.”

  “Since Virginia’s missing, I figure she has bigger problems than you seeing her in her panties or whatever. You need to call the police department now. Where is it? Maybe this can tell them exactly what happened.” I was excited.

  “You don’t remember me telling you?” Again with the judgment, about what I considered the least relevant part of our previous conversation.

  “I was beginning to feel bad by then, so I guess it didn’t register.” (Frankly, I suspected that Robin, who seemed to think very loud, simply believed he had told me. Also, this was not important at the moment.) “Where is it?” I said again. Since Sophie and I were through, I handed her to Robin for the burping routine.

  “It looks just like a plug-in air freshener,” he said proudly. “It sends a signal to the receiver attached to our TV.” He was patting Sophie’s back forcefully, and he was rewarded with a huge belch.

  “Which TV?” I really didn’t like things taking place in my house I didn’t know about. That had been happening a lot lately.

  “The one in the living room. Pretty timely installment, huh?”

  I swallowed my irritation, because that was the truth. “Speaking of time … what time is it now, anyway?” Robin was between me and the clock.

  “Eight A.M.,” he said, with a jaw-cracking yawn. “Okay, I’ll call Cathy about the camera. I guess she’s the one to call? Not too many detectives on the Lawrenceton force.”

  “Yeah. Oh, Levon got promoted. He was with her last night.”

  “Was Phillip a help?” Robin asked, as he punched in the Sparling County Law Enforcement Complex (SPACOLEC) number on his phone. “Cathy Trumble, please,” he told the clerk.

  “Before he gets up, I want to tell you what a rock Phillip was,” I said, from the bottom of my heart. “He was a tremendous help. He’ll probably sleep until noon.”