Bundle of Trouble mim-1

by Diana Orgain

  Kiku nodded but remained pensive. After a moment, I put it back into my pocket.

  She moved to get a broom. I got up. “Let me do that.” As I swept my curls, I said, “Yesterday you told me you didn’t know Svetlana Avery. Did you mean you didn’t know she was dead?”

  She paused for a split second and said, “No. I don’t know Svetlana.”

  Hmmm.

  She said she’d been shopping. That could be true with all the baby gear around, but then where had the gear been this morning?

  I finished sweeping. “So, looks like you’re ready for the baby with all that stuff.” I nodded toward the living room. “Where’d you get it?”

  Kiku smiled. “Babies R Us.”

  Great.

  If she had shopped at a neighborhood store, I might have been able to check her alibi, but there was no way with a megastore. Everyone’s anonymous.

  I arrived home exhausted but felt exhilarated when I saw Jim seated on the couch chatting to Mom and holding Laurie.

  He stood when he saw me. I rushed over to him and embraced both him and Laurie. “You’re home, home, home!” I squeezed him tight, holding on to him and breathing him in.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said into my hair. “I shouldn’t have let George get to me like that. If I had kept my cool, none of that would have happened.”

  I shushed him. “Don’t worry.”

  He pulled away to look into my face. “I do worry. You’re totally stressed out. . or. . or depressed.”

  I glared at Mom, who raised her shoulders and gave me her best I-couldn’t-help-it look. “The nurse called a little while ago.”

  “I’m not depressed!”

  Jim hugged me. “I know. I know. Overwhelmed.” I nodded. He continued, “I hated putting you through that.”

  “And me,” Mom piped in. “You put me through it, too. I worry, too, you know.”

  Jim smiled down at Mom, who was still seated comfortably on the couch. “Thanks.”

  Mom waved her hand in a gesture that said it was nothing. As if on cue, Laurie wailed.

  Jim patted her. “I know. You, too.”

  “It’s almost six. I think she’s hungry,” I said.

  “I’ll second that,” Jim said, handing Laurie to me. “It’s Friday night. How about I take us all out for pizza?”

  Mom winked. “That’s a nice idea, hon, but I have a hot date tonight.”

  “Oh, Mom, can you ask Hank a question about Valium for me?”

  Jim and Mom looked at me curiously.

  “It’s nothing, really. At least I hope not. Ask him how many five-milligram tablets are a lethal dose when combined with wine.”

  Jim and I decided to celebrate his homecoming with an outing to our favorite Italian pizzeria. It was relatively close to our home, but not walking distance, so we circled endlessly looking for parking.

  Finally, Jim pulled to the front of the building. “You and Laurie jump out and I’ll find a spot.”

  I was more than happy to take him up on the offer. My legs were aching from running around all day, and besides, I was famished. I grabbed Laurie and her car seat and entered the restaurant.

  Tony, the son of the owner, greeted me. He had been acting as host for as long as Jim and I had been coming here. “Kate! Long time no see. Now I know why. She’s beautiful, like her mommy.”

  Although Tony was in his thirties like me, he looked twenty. He was tall and slim, with dark curly hair and a permanent smile.

  “Always the flatterer. I see you haven’t changed.”

  He grinned as he ushered me to a booth. “Where’s Jim?” he asked.

  “Looking for parking.”

  He nodded, letting his lips form a thin line. “He may be a while, then. What can I get you to drink.”

  “I’ll have a ginger ale. Oh, and a high chair please.”

  Tony looked puzzled. “Isn’t she too small to sit in a high chair?”

  “I know a trick.”

  He returned with my soda and the high chair. I flipped the highchair over so it was upside down and placed Laurie’s bucket car seat securely on top of the legs.

  “I’ve never seen that before,” he said.

  The restaurant door flew open and a flustered Jim made his way in. Eyeing Tony up and down, he threatened his usual, “I’m going to stop coming here unless you do something about the parking situation.”

  Tony laughed. “Good to see you, too.”

  As soon as Tony was out of earshot, I leaned across the table. “Have you noticed he doesn’t age?”

  “Do you have the hots for him or something?” Jim asked through a smile.

  “No. Just for you, because you’re so lovable.”

  “And free.”

  “Yup. Men with a record really turn me on.”

  Jim laughed in spite of himself. His face looked drawn and his eyes were bloodshot.

  I reached across the table for his hand. “Was it awful?”

  “The conditions? No. It was remarkably clean and quiet, actually. But it still sucked being away from you and jelly bean. And stressing over whatever the hell George has gotten himself into.”

  I squeezed his hand. “So what happened at the lineup?”

  “Not much that I could tell. They told me to walk into a room with four other guys. We stood there, turned around, posed. I prayed.”

  “Did you see the witness?”

  Jim shook his head.

  I fingered the menu. “After everything that’s happened, I was scared, you know, scared that they would actually try to build a case against you or something.”

  “God, me, too. Crane made it sound like the wrong person is identified more often than not. But even so, he told me the cops probably couldn’t hold me even if they did get a match, because it would have been circumstantial evidence, and I guess they need more than that for a homicide arrest.”

  “Like a smoking gun.”

  Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded. I filled him in on George’s story about the missing gun. Jim’s face was grim as he listened.

  Tony appeared with an antipasto, compliments of the chef, his father, who peered at us from behind the pizza oven and yelled, “Beautiful baby, it’s about time!”

  Tony asked, “What will it be tonight, the usual or something else?”

  Jim glanced over at me. I nodded. “The usual.”

  Jim dipped his bread into olive oil. I continued my George story and ended with the impending birth.

  “Is he going to marry Kiku?” Jim asked.

  “He says he doesn’t know yet. And when I went over there to give her this bracelet, she said it wasn’t hers.” I pulled the silvery metal out of my pocket and showed Jim.

  He took the bracelet from me and read it. “Where’d you get this?”

  “It fell out of one of George’s bags. Do you think he’s seeing someone else?”

  Jim shrugged his shoulder. “God, honey, with George, who knows?”

  He scooped salami into his mouth, looking miserable. He motioned to Tony and ordered a beer. I poured olive oil on my bread plate and dipped the bread in silence. Laurie cooed and ah-gooed from her bucket seat, determined to get our attention.

  After a few pulls on his beer, Jim said, “You know I care about George, Kate. But all my life he’s always been more trouble than he’s worth. It breaks my heart. You gotta know that. Here’s the person who’s the most genetically similar to me on the planet and. . if he’s like that. . I can’t be too far-”

  “Stop. You know you’re nothing like him. Genetically, okay, I get that. But come on, you guys are totally different.”

  “It didn’t feel that way today, sitting in jail and then having to do a lineup. It was the low point of my life.”

  I scooted out of my side of the booth and slid in next to Jim. He put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “How do we get out of this, honey?”

  “Mrs. Avery hired me to find out who killed Brad. I can solve this, Jim.”

 
He smiled. “Leave it to my lovely wife. She’ll get us out of the hole by digging deeper.”

  “I can solve this.”

  “I’m sure you can, what with all the experience you have.” He grinned in spite of himself. “You know, I’ve got to admit it, honey, if you really want something, you keep on insisting until you get it.”

  “I really don’t want to go back to the office.” I rubbed his back. “How can filing drawings, managing schedules, and making coffee compare to being with you and Laurie? Plus I really want to keep you out of jail.”

  Jim smirked. “Tell me your best theory.”

  Just then a piping hot pizza, topped with Gorgonzola, pancetta, and caramelized onions arrived at our table. “I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

  He served me a piece of pizza, placing his hand on my thigh. “This gets better and better.” He leaned in close to kiss me. “And by the way, I love your new haircut.”

  •CHAPTER EIGHTEEN•

  The Sixth Week-Separation Anxiety

  At 7 A.M. Laurie and Jim were both still sacked out from the day before.

  I got out of bed. I had only a week and a half left of maternity leave. Ten days. Two hundred and forty hours.

  I needed to build up a reserve of milk. I pulled out the cartoon instructions from Paula and did my best to produce a bountiful supply. I yielded three ounces. Ridiculous! How did other women do it?

  I grabbed my to-do list:

  To-Do List:

  1. Find Brad and/or Michelle and/or Svetlana’s killer.

  2. Speak to Michelle’s sister, KelliAnn.

  3. ✓

  4. Mail thank-you cards.

  5. Get some sleep.

  6. Print business cards.

  7. Go grocery shopping.

  8. Figure out how to solve this crime and find a way in the world with my own little PI business.

  I needed to meet KelliAnn, Michelle’s half-sister, give her my condolences, and see if she had an insight into these awful murders.

  Since it was Saturday, Jim could babysit. I left him with the precious three ounces of milk and instructions to use formula if Laurie was still hungry. I studied Laurie before I left: her eyebrows were darkening but the hair on her head remained a delicate strawberry blond. I fought the desire to sit and study her all day. How could I miss her already if I hadn’t even left?

  When I arrived at KelliAnn’s place, I rang the bell and was buzzed up.

  KelliAnn stood in front of her door. She had beautiful red hair, the kind that is so red it looks almost orange.

  Real red hair, not out of a bottle.

  She was tall and thin, clad in a clinging purple sweat suit with a silver chain around her neck. From the chain hung an old-fashioned heart-shaped locket.

  She was only a few years older than Michelle and me, maybe thirty-five or — six at the most, yet she hadn’t aged well, probably due to a combination of her fair skin, smoking, and/or stress. Her face was lined and she seemed a little angry.

  Not unusual, I imagined, for someone whose half-sister had been killed a week ago.

  “KelliAnn?”

  She looked me up and down. “Yes. Can I help you?”

  I extended my hand. “Kate Connolly. You probably don’t remember me; I was in Michelle’s class at Holy Rosary.”

  She smiled, showing off astonishingly white teeth. I self-consciously ran my tongue over my own.

  How were people getting their teeth so white these days?

  “I do remember you.” Her face darkened. “You found Michelle, right? Come in.”

  I entered the spacious apartment, decorated in cream and green. It was fastidiously clean; the hardwood floors shone and every surface seemed to sparkle. I sat on a leather armchair. She hovered over me. “Something to drink?”

  I recalled my vow not to consume anything prepared by a suspect. That didn’t include the sister of the victim, did it?

  Maybe prudence would be best. “No. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  KelliAnn sat down on her sofa, her ego deflated, as though my declining a beverage had hurt her feelings.

  “KelliAnn, I’m so sorry about Michelle. We weren’t close, not since high school, but what a tragedy. I-”

  “Thank you. It’s been really rough. She was the only family I had left. My mom died when I was in high school, and our dad died a few years ago.” She played with the locket around her neck. “The police told me Michelle overdosed.”

  “Combination of diazepam and alcohol.”

  “Yes.” KelliAnn squinted and dropped the locket. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been hired by Gloria Avery to find out who killed Brad.”

  KelliAnn paled, stood, then sat. “Gloria? Really? I never got the impression that she cared all that much.”

  “About Brad?” I asked.

  “Either one of them, really. She’s. . well, let’s just say she’s a lot like Michelle’s mother was.”

  I recalled KelliAnn had not gotten along well with Michelle’s mother. Their father, a commercial airline pilot, had lived a double life, married to Michelle’s mom on one coast and maintaining a long-term affair on the other coast. When KelliAnn’s mother passed away, her father took her in and she came to live with Michelle and her mother.

  Our high school was small, about three hundred students, so everyone was privy to the drama that Michelle and KelliAnn were going through as they went from strangers to half sisters.

  I did my best to sidestep that land mine. “When’s the last time you saw Michelle?”

  “We talked daily, but I hadn’t seen her since last week. Now, I wish I’d made the time. I had no idea she was so down that she’d kill herself.”

  “You think she killed herself?”

  Her brow wrinkled and creased, highlighting the sun damage on her face and causing her to look angry again. “Well, unless she accidentally overdosed. I mean, yeah. She had a tendency toward self-destruction. When Brad left her, she completely fell apart. She was starting to get better and then the police found his body. She just came apart at the seams.” She shook her head. “And Brad left her for another woman. I don’t know if you knew how vain Michelle was, but she was supervain. So imagine the hit to her ego when he told her he was leaving her.”

  “Do you know who he was seeing?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. It’s no big secret.”

  She knew! I could barely contain my excitement. I tried to remember I was supposed to be a professional.

  As calmly as I could, I asked, “Who?”

  She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “My neighbor, Jen.”

  Hippie chick was the other woman?

  “Jennifer Miller?”

  KelliAnn looked confused. “You know her?”

  Now I felt foolish. I had met Jennifer, but didn’t peg her as the other woman. What other clues were under my nose that I was missing?

  I shrugged at KelliAnn and tried to hide my inexperience. “Well, I did speak with Jennifer early on in my investigation. I am a PI, you know.”

  KelliAnn resumed fidgeting with the locket. “Right. Of course. Well, Michelle knew Brad was two-timing her, but I didn’t think she knew with whom. And I certainly didn’t want to tell her, ’cuz, I’m the one who got Jennifer hired at El Paraiso in the first place.”

  “You felt responsible that Brad was cheating on Michelle? That’s absurd! If he was a big cheat, that has nothing to do with you!”

  KelliAnn looked around the room and sighed. “I know, you’re right, but. .” She shrugged and looked despondent. “Brad would come here, well, there, next door, practically every night until. .”

  My breath caught. “Did he come over here on June fifteenth?”

  KelliAnn nodded. “He made kind of a scene that night, pounding on her door and yelling. She finally let him inside. He left after a while.”

  “He left?”

  That meant he’d left alive, not like she’d shot him in her apartment and dragged out a body bag.


  “Yeah, but so did she, just a little bit after he did.”

  “Have you told the police?”

  A look of misery crossed her face. “I did tell them. But I never told Michelle. I didn’t want her to blame me. Now that she’s gone, I can’t believe I didn’t come clean with her.”

  “Do you think Jennifer killed Brad?”

  “I’ve told the police that a dozen times. Svetlana, too. After Jennifer quit at El Paraiso, she went to work at Svet’s store.” She stood and picked up a handbag off a side table. “Well, I was on my way out. Can I walk you downstairs?”

  We left the apartment in silence. In front of the building, KelliAnn embraced me. “Thank you for coming by, Kate.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said into her red hair.

  She released me and smiled sadly. “I know.” From her purse she pulled out a pair of glasses, held together in the middle with tape, and a key ring. She pointed the key at a gold hard-top Mercedes. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

  “No. Thanks. I’m not parked far.”

  She nodded and put on the glasses, which succeeded only in making her look sadder. She walked to the Mercedes, then waved at me as she climbed into the car.

  I crossed the street and peered through the windows of Heavenly Haight. Jennifer was helping an older woman pick through colorful scarves.

  I sighed.

  My tummy rumbled. Hungry again.

  A huge McDonald’s sign loomed over me. My stomach roared. I never ate fast food, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed time to think, and eat. I ducked into the McDonald’s and placed an order.

  Was I really burning all this food by breastfeeding? Or was this another old wives’ tale that would end up biting me in the ass, literally? What good was it to burn an extra five hundred calories a day if I was craving and consuming an extra thousand?

  Oh well, at least I hadn’t supersized. And of course, I’d gotten the diet soda. Why drink the calories when you can eat them?

  I dialed Jim from my cell phone and asked about Laurie.

  “Honey, I don’t know what you think you’re missing, but she’s sleeping.”