by Maris Soule
“Your husband ran her down.” Simply saying the words sent a chill through me.
“He had no choice. We couldn’t let her turn this over to the authorities.” Her voice lacked emotion and her eyes showed no feeling. “Problem was she didn’t have the pen on her or in her purse.”
“And it wasn’t in the church.” I remembered how calmly Tamara had told me about the break-in.
“Which meant she had to have given it to you.”
“And so, you sent Miguel to break in here.”
“Actually, it was Juan the first time. He had Miguel go after that. I think your dog scared Juan. Now I understand why. He is a big dog.”
I hoped having him by my side scared Tamara, but the way she smiled at me, I wasn’t sure. “Now what?”
“I get rid of this—" She held up the pen. “You tell me where the diamonds are, and then I leave.”
I doubted she’d simply leave, and she’d said one thing that surprised me. “What diamonds?”
“The ones that were shipped with that rocking chair you took from the store.”
“So, there were diamonds packed around that music box.” I shook my head. “Sorry, I think your man Miguel got those.”
“He said he didn’t.”
“He must have lied. There were no diamonds on or near the chair after I saw Miguel here. No wrapping around the music box. He had to have taken them.”
“Then he died lying.”
“You killed him?” I cringed at the thought of Miguel dead. Poor Maria.
“He went for a swim.” She eyed me suspiciously. “Where’s the rocking chair?”
“My husband took it. It’s at the Sheriff’s office.”
“But you didn’t find any diamonds.” Tamara sighed. “Damn. Those diamonds cost a fortune. Alan said smuggling diamonds would be dangerous, that they’re called Blood Diamonds for a reason.” She pointed the pen toward me. “Question now is what do I do with you? Maybe—”
Perhaps the pen projecting from her fist looked like a rawhide twist to Baraka. Or maybe he thought she was going to poke me. Whatever the reason, he lunged forward and grabbed the end of the pen.
She gave a squeal of surprise and let go.
And so did he.
The pen dropped to the floor.
She stooped to pick it up.
Baraka also tried to pick it up.
I heard the crack of bone against bone when their heads met. A full-grown Rhodesian Ridgeback’s head is hard as a rock, and the contact was enough to put Tamara off balance. As she stumbled backwards, her body hit the side of the doorjamb. Arms flailing, she tried to catch herself, but couldn’t stop her downward motion. Her rear hit the floor, her shoulders the side of my computer chair.
For a second I stared at her, but only for a second. “Move,” I yelled at Baraka, and as he moved, I reached down for the pen.
“No!” Tamara cried, twisting to the side to get back on her feet.
Pen in hand, I headed for my front door. I heard Baraka growl, but I didn’t look back. I’m not sure if Tamara ran into Baraka as she tried to get to me, or if he actually tackled her, but I did hear a thump, and when I reached my front door and looked back, she was again getting to her feet, and Baraka was now right behind me.
Once outside, I headed for the gate. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Running to Howard’s place wasn’t an option, not in my condition. My car keys were in my purse in the house, so driving off wasn’t possible. All I could hope was someone would drive by in the next few seconds, someone who would stop and give me a ride.
“Stop!” I heard Tamara yell. I also heard a whoosh and a loud bang. Something hit the dirt in front of me.
I stopped. I hadn’t thought of her having a gun. Slowly, I turned back toward my front door. Tamara stood on the porch. She held a small automatic between her two hands, the gun aimed toward me.
As I looked at her, she lowered the barrel so the gun was aimed at Baraka. “Bring me the pen, or I’ll shoot your dog.”
That was when my water broke.
I felt the warmth as the liquid ran down my legs, soaking my jeans, and pooling in my boots. Stunned, I stood where I was.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Tamara shouted. “Bring me the pen.”
“My water broke,” I said, not moving.
“I don’t give a damn about your water.”
“My baby.” She didn’t understand. “My baby’s coming.”
Baraka understood something was happening. He came over and sniffed my pant leg, then looked up at me as if to say, “What’s going on?”
I heard Tamara grumble. Still aiming the gun in my direction, she came down the steps and started toward me. I don’t know what would have happened next if a blue Ford hadn’t come roaring down the road just then. Tamara stopped midway between the house and me. She lowered her gun to her side so it wouldn’t be noticed and watched as the car drove by. My legs started shaking, my heart racing. I knew the car. She didn’t.
She started toward me again, then paused at the sound of brakes squealing. I watched Howard’s car stop, make a hundred-and-eighty-degree reverse turn, and start forward, now facing the opposite direction. She frowned as the Ford slowly came back toward us on the wrong side of the road and close to the fencing I’d put up. The driver’s side window was rolled down.
Howard stopped the car parallel to her. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said. “We’re just talking.”
“Good.” He smiled. “In that case, you can drop that pea shooter you’re trying to hide.”
I thought, for a moment, she would try to use her gun, either to shoot Howard or me, but then she saw the revolver he had aimed at her.
Chapter Forty-One
I don’t know what Tamara might have done if Wade hadn’t pulled his Jeep up behind Howard’s car right then. With a sigh she dropped her gun and raised her hands. I let the men deal with her. Now that the danger had passed, I convinced my legs to move, and though my wet jeans clung to my legs and I heard a squishing sound with each step I took, I made it back into the house.
By the time Wade came inside, I’d changed my underwear and pulled on a loose pair of maternity slacks. The first thing he did was hug me, then he asked, “What happened?”
“Her husband owns Patterson’s Furniture. She came after this.”
I showed Wade the camera pen and explained, as best I could, what I thought had happened the day I ran into Brenda. “Tamara said Brenda had never seen her at the store, so when they met at the church, Brenda told Tamara she was being followed and had to hide out to make a phone call. She had no idea that Tamara would tell her husband where to find her. And I had no idea, Brenda dropped this pen into my purse.” I handed it to him. “You need to get this to Agent Tailor.”
“Will do.” He looked down at the wet clothes on the floor. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. That is—" A contraction started—a strong one—and I tried to breathe as Connie had taught us. Wade, I think, held his breath until I relaxed.
Finally, I could talk again. “Connie’s on her way.” I glanced at the clock on my dresser. The contractions were getting closer. I wanted Wade to stay, but I also wanted Tamara arrested. “What are you going to do about Tamara?”
“I called Dario. He’ll take her in and book her.”
“Good. Tell Lieutenant Gespardo she either killed or had Miguel killed.”
Wade nodded.
“And tell Howard thank you.” I started to lean over to pick up my wet clothes, but a sharp pain changed my mind. “I think I’ll sit down for a while.”
* * *
Connie arrived and took my blood pressure, listened to Paige Joy’s heartbeat, and checked how much I’d dilated. “Oh my gosh,” she said, stepping back and shaking her head. “P.J., don’t you do anything the usual way?”
Maybe first babies took hours to deliver; mine was impatient. I was already in the second stage of labor, cervix fully dilated. Paige Joy was
on the move. Together we set up the bed the way Connie wanted, and I stretched out, ready to “pop out” my baby.
But then Paige Joy changed her mind.
“This isn’t unusual,” Connie assured me. “Just relax and breathe with each contraction. You don’t need to lie on your back. Find a position that’s comfortable.”
The next three hours became a blur of people coming and going and Connie checking my blood pressure and Paige Joy’s heartbeat. Jason came in and held my hand for a while. Connie even let him hold the stethoscope against my abdomen and listen to the baby’s heartbeat. When he grew restless, Connie sent him on an errand and promised she’d call him when the baby was closer to being born.
Wade came and went also. Between contractions, he massaged my back and told me what was going on regarding Tamara and the pen Brenda had given me. “Agent Tailor is here,” he said at one point. “She’s using your computer to look at what’s on the pen. Your friend Brenda captured enough evidence to put Patterson’s Furniture out of business and a lot of people in prison, including Tamara and her husband.”
At the moment, I didn’t care.
The contractions were coming closer and closer, the urge to push dominating my energy. “She’s crowning,” Connie finally said, and I pushed harder.
Wade was with me when Paige Joy was born. She came out screaming. Only after Connie placed her against my chest and told me to hold her tight did my baby stop crying. She felt so tiny, her skin so smooth. Connie placed a baby blanket over her and told me, if I wanted, to try to get her to nurse. I concentrated on that procedure and was barely aware of Connie clamping Paige Joy’s umbilical cord or delivering the afterbirth.
It took a while before Paige Joy discovered what a nipple was for, but once she did, she took to the idea eagerly. Connie had me decently covered by the time Jason returned. He’d missed the delivery but didn’t seem to care. Eyes wide, he stared at his little sister. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’ll need your protection,” Wade told him.
It was dark by the time Connie left. Paige Joy had been bathed, measured, and weighed and was wearing her first diaper and sleeper. I reluctantly placed her in the bassinet. As much as I wanted to keep holding her, I knew keeping her in bed with me was not a good idea. I was exhausted. I certainly didn’t want to fall asleep and roll over on my little girl.
Chapter Forty-Two
Paige Joy Kingsley was five weeks old when Grandma Carter decided it was time to hold a post-partum welcome party for her great-granddaughter. “We’ll have it at your place,” she said and smiled. “A smoke-free environment. But I’ll provide the food.”
I certainly wasn’t going to object. Both Connie and Wade had been right, new babies led to sleep deprivation. Paige—by the end of the first week, we’d stopped adding her middle name when talking about her—wanted to be fed every two to three hours, day or night. Connie said not to worry about it. Paige was growing and gaining weight, and most breast-fed babies demanded frequent feedings at first. “As her stomach matures, she’ll start sleeping through the night.”
I couldn’t wait until that time came. My baby was doing fine; I was a walking zombie.
Grandma did the inviting to the party and took the RSVPs, so I had no idea who might show up. For the party, she purchased a cute little three-piece short set for Paige that had strawberries on the top. It was made by Carter. “Of course,” she’d said when she gave it to me. “A Carter outfit from Grandma Carter.”
I was able to squeeze into my pre-pregnancy jeans, but I needed to work on my abs if I wanted my girlish figure back. A turquoise smock-like top helped cover the fat I hadn’t lost. Wade said I looked wonderful.
I do love that man.
His parents showed up first. They didn’t stay long. They had a meeting to attend, they said, but wouldn’t miss a chance to see their granddaughter again. They had come twice right after she was born, but then had been on a cruise for the last two weeks. “She looks like you,” Joy Kingsley said, holding Paige. “She’s going to have the same curly hair and brown eyes, but she’s got Wade’s smile.”
“And temper,” I added when Paige began to fuss.
Wade’s mother handed Paige back to me. “You’ve made him very happy, P.J. Thank you.”
Ginny dropped by just as her folks were leaving. She also didn’t stay long, but I wasn’t surprised. Ginny had been coming by two and three times a week ever since Paige was born. “Just to give you a break,” she said, and she did, sometimes watching Paige so I could get a nap, sometimes taking Jason somewhere so he didn’t feel neglected.
Other guests came and went—neighbors, former co-workers, clients—some bringing gifts. Paige was going to have more clothes than she would ever wear, but it was fun to open the packages and see the cute little outfits. I remembered playing with dolls as a child and the fun of dressing them. When I reached an age where I realized getting pregnant and giving birth might bring on schizophrenia, I banished the idea of having a child of my own. Now I held Paige in my arms, and so far I hadn’t shown any symptoms of the disease.
Mom and Ben arrived with a huge bunch of helium-filled pink balloons, crazy party hats, and party horns. When Mom blew her horn, Paige started screaming, showing everyone what a strong set of lungs she had. Thank goodness Grandma Carter shooed Mom into the kitchen and put her to work, and Ben helped Wade set up extra chairs.
I’d quieted Paige down by the time Anna came with her baby. “She’s adorable,” I told her as we traded infants for a few minutes. “A mini you.”
“If it hadn’t been for you showing up when you did . . .” Anna gazed at her child. “I still have nightmares about that woman.”
“What have you heard about her or Mrs. Welkum?”
“That Jewel has been charged with kidnapping and assault and battery and the judge refused bond. She’ll be in jail until her trial, and long after that, I hope. As for Madeline, the board has agreed not to pursue embezzlement charges as long as she pays back everything her daughter stole.”
“I guess that’s fair,” I said as Anna and I reclaimed our daughters.
“I think so,” Anna said, hugging her little girl. “I’ve gotten to know Madeline since our ordeal in that cellar. She keeps apologizing for what her daughter did and for not turning her in as soon as she realized Jewel was stealing money from the charity. But, now that I have a daughter, I understand the desire to do anything possible to protect your child. One good thing that came out of the whole ordeal is the other day Madeline called and offered me a job decorating two of the houses Homes4Homeless is refurbishing. She also said she’d recommend me to all of her friends.”
“And all’s well that ends well.” I gave Anna a hug. One of the positives of the Mothers-to-Be group was I’d made a new friend.
Ken showed up next. He brought a good-looking, middle-aged woman with him. “Adele Rose,” he said, introducing her. “My next-door neighbor.”
“I met your husband a few weeks ago,” Adele said, “when he came looking for Ken. That was a scary time.”
“Wade said you were very helpful that day.” I looked around for him, and saw he was helping Grandma set food on the table.
“I’m just glad everything worked out all right.”
Adele snuggled close to Ken and smiled up at him, and I knew they were more than simply neighbors.
“Brought something for your baby,” Ken said and handed me a medium size, colorful gift bag.
I shifted Paige to the side and extracted a cloth doll almost the same size as Paige, dressed in pink pajamas. Paige reached a hand toward the doll, and Ken grinned. “A pajama girl for Pajama Girl’s little girl.”
Connie arrived next. Her gift was information. Maria had had her baby. A little boy they’d named Miguel in honor of her deceased cousin. Divers had found Maria’s cousin’s body five days after discovering the truck. Once Maria’s baby was old enough, they were taking her cousin’s body back to Mexico to be properly buried. She wasn’t
sure if she, her husband, and the baby would return to the United States or not.
Sarah and her baby were doing fine, the only problem was the boyfriend, Tommy, had decided fatherhood was not for him. That relationship had ended, but Sarah’s family had stepped in, and Connie felt all was going to work out well.
“I’m starting another Mothers-to-Be group,” Connie said. “I hope you and Anna will drop by sometime and talk to these women about your experiences.”
I looked at Anna and we both laughed. “Are you sure you want us telling them about our birthing experiences?”
Howard brought the best gift that afternoon and it wasn’t for me or Paige. In his arms he held a little gray kitten, the one Jason had finally decided he liked the most. “She’s not quite eight weeks old, but I think she’s ready to leave her mother,” he told Jason. “Do you remember what we talked about, how to care for her?”
Jason nodded and took the kitten.
He cuddled his baby and I cuddled mine and all was fine until Baraka came over to sniff the kitten and the kitten swatted Baraka, her sharp little kitten claws hitting his nose. With a yelp, he bounced back, the noise scaring Paige, who began to cry, and Grandma came out of the kitchen wanting to know what was wrong.
It took a good fifteen minutes of nursing before Paige was again happy and the two of us rejoined the party. Jason was still playing with his new kitten, and Baraka had been confined to his crate, at least until the party was over. Lieutenant Dario Gespardo arrived then, carrying a gift I hadn’t thought I’d see again. “As far as we can tell,” he said, “there’s nothing about this rocking chair to connect it to the drug or diamond smuggling going on at Patterson’s Furniture store.” He set the rocker in front of me. “Therefore, you paid for it, it’s yours.”
“Thank you,” I said, and gave it a small push so the music box played its tinny rendition of “Rock-a-bye baby.”
“Not sure I’m going to want to hear that over and over,” Wade said.