The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom

by Robyn Harding

  “That’s different. Doug and Karen were married. They were exclusive. It’s not like Karen told us we weren’t allowed to have any other friends.”

  “Yeah. But how would you feel if Doug was making a new friend?”

  “What do you mean by new friend?”

  I told her what I had witnessed through the window last night as I was out for a casual, evening stroll. She was quiet for a long moment. “You’re sure it wasn’t just a business meeting?”

  “They were drinking wine! She was rubbing his shoulders!”

  “It does sound a little… friendly.”

  “I’ll say. …Do you think…” I hesitated, unsure if I should ask Jane to ponder this possibility. “Do you think they could have been seeing each other before…?”

  “Before? Before when?”

  My voice was hushed. “Before Karen died.”

  “Oh my God! What are you trying to say, Paige? That Doug was cheating on Karen with Jackie Baldwin? That they may have wanted her dead so that they could be together? Do you think they might have conspired to kill her?”

  Laid out like that it sounded incredibly far-fetched. “Umm… I’m not saying that, exactly… I just wondered… Well, it’s just so soon for him to be uh… getting his shoulders rubbed by someone else.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they’re a pair of scheming murderers. God, you’ve been watching too much CSI.”

  If one more person told me that….! “Look, I’ve got to get going,” I said, shortly. “I’ve got some things to do before I pick up the kids.”

  “Okay. So, are we on for Wednesday at your place?”

  “Sure,” I said, with all the enthusiasm of scheduling a root canal.

  “And what about Margot?”

  I heaved a sigh of resignation. It wasn’t really fair to exclude this poor Margot person because of my own hang-ups. “Bring her along,” I said. “It’s fine with me.”

  Chapter 23

  The following afternoon, the phone rang.

  “Paige?”

  My heart skipped a beat at the sound of a male voice saying my name. That’s all I needed was for Javier to start calling me and pestering me at home. But this voice had just said: Paige; not: Paaaaaige, with an incredibly, sexy Spanish accent that made all the hair on my arms stand on end.

  “Speaking,” I replied.

  “Troy Portman here.”

  “Oh… hello.”

  “Could we talk? Preferably in person?”

  “Umm… okay. When?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “All right. Same place? I can be there in an hour.”

  “See you then.”

  I arrived at the diner fifty-six minutes later. Detective Portman was already seated in the same booth, a cup of coffee before him. This time, as I strode to meet him, I had no qualms about being a stoolie. If I could help the police get to the bottom of this mystery, I would. The uncertainty was destroying me. I was also just a little tired of Trudy and Carly getting all the accolades for their charity work and lasagna making.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, half standing as I slid in across from him.

  “Of course. So… is there any news on the case?”

  “We got the paternity test results back.”

  I leaned forward anxiously. “And?”

  “The baby was not Doug Sutherland’s.”

  A queasy feeling came over me and I flopped back in my seat. Oh God. So Karen had been sleeping with Javier. I had been such a fool to believe his lies—a sad, pathetic, later-in-life fool.

  “The problem is…” Portman said, pausing while Vera filled my coffee cup. “The problem is that we don’t know who the father is.”

  “Obviously it must be that Javier character,” I said, disdainfully. “Karen told me they were sleeping together.”

  “We have no way to prove it, though. He refused to give us a DNA sample.”

  “Well, that’s like an admission of guilt, isn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.”

  “So… what happens now?”

  Portman sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “With no evidence of a physical relationship between them, we have no reason to pursue our investigation of him any further. Mr. Rueda said he was working the day your friend died, and his co-workers confirm it.”

  Who? For a moment, I was confused. Then I realized that I didn’t even know Javier’s last name. Mentally, I had made love to him approximately 37 times, and yet, I didn’t even know his surname. I really was a pervert. “Well, his co-workers could be lying to protect him, couldn’t they?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “What about fingerprints? His prints must have been at the scene?”

  “They weren’t—which doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t there.”

  “It has to be Javier’s baby. Who else could it be?”

  Portman shrugged. “You never know… Karen Sutherland had a lot of secrets.”

  He was right: Karen had had a lot of secrets. Maybe she had been sleeping with someone else entirely, and Javier had been a sort of a decoy? But that was ridiculous! I was just trying to protect my own ego by pretending that Javier had eyes only for me. He’d probably spent hours parked outside Karen’s house, sent her numerous pressed flowers and cutesy notes requesting coffee dates… before, of course, he impregnated her, and then, possibly, pushed her over.

  “What if…”—I hesitated for only a second before plunging forward— “I could provide you with a DNA sample from Mr. Rueda?”

  “Don’t even think about contacting him, Paige. He could be dangerous.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt me. I know it.”

  “I’m sure that’s what Karen Sutherland thought, too.”

  “If you really think he hurt Karen, then how can you just let him go?” Desperation had made my voice shrill.

  “I’m not convinced he did,” Portman said. “This one’s got me stumped. But I can’t take the chance of you seeing him again. It’s too risky.

  He sounded very protective, almost like my big brother… or my boyfriend. It was sweet. “I won’t see him again, if you don’t want me to,” I replied, flirting just a tiny bit. “So… just out of curiosity, could you get DNA from a coffee cup, or a spoon or something?” I was sure I’d seen them do that on TV.

  “Yeah. DNA can be analyzed from any body tissues or fluids: hair, blood, bone, saliva, semen…”

  “Oh jeez!” I said, blushing like a teenager at the mention of Javier’s semen. I continued, nervously. “Okay… so, hypothetically, if he drank out of a paper coffee cup, you could get his DNA from the cup?”

  “Anything with trace saliva on it will have his DNA on it, so, basically, anything he puts his mouth on.”

  This gave me another idea but I was too embarrassed to ask if I could hand my lips in for analysis. Besides, Javier was becoming less attractive by the second. But still, I needed to know if he was the father of Karen’s baby, and what role he had played in her death.

  “But there’s a difference between obtaining DNA and obtaining legally admissible DNA,” Portman was saying. “In order to use a DNA sample we have to be able to prove that it wasn’t contaminated by another party, and we also need to prove that the person had no further use for the object and …”

  My mind drifted from his legalistic cop talk. I was sure that I could safely get some of Javier’s DNA. It was as simple as taking him up on his coffee invitation—and taking the cup home with me. Then, I’d turn it into the police for testing. I felt confident that they’d find a way to make it legally admissible. I’d probably just have to sign an affidavit or something. I was pretty certain that was how it worked on Law & Order.

  “So you see, it’s not as simple as just handing over an object with his trace saliva on it,” Troy finished.

  “Right,” I said. “But there’s something else I think you need to know.” I leaned forward. “It’s about Doug Sutherland.”

&nb
sp; He leaned in toward me. “Go on…”

  “I think he might be involved with another woman… already.”

  Portman did not look shocked. “Okay… well, thanks for passing that along.”

  “It’s just so soon, don’t you think? I mean, Karen’s only been gone for a couple of months. It makes me wonder if maybe… they were seeing each other… before.”

  This piqued his interest a little. He pulled out his small blue notepad. “Who is the woman he’s seeing?”

  “Her name is Jackie Baldwin. She’s works for the Boca Group selling condos. She says Doug’s just interested in getting a smaller place, but I saw them together, and they looked rather… intimate.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “They were drinking wine, which, obviously, isn’t very professional. And then she began rubbing his shoulders.”

  Portman continued to jot notes. “And where did this take place?”

  “In Karen’s house. Well… I guess it’s Doug’s house, now. I saw it all through the window, as I was walking by.”

  “Had you seen them together when Karen was alive?”

  “Uh…. no, I don’t think so.”

  “And did Karen mention to you that she suspected her husband was having an affair?”

  “No.” I could tell where this was going. “But Karen’s just two months in the grave and Doug’s getting shoulder rubs from another woman? That’s just not right! Not to mention, this Jackie character has a bit of a reputation in the neighborhood, if you know what I mean. A bit of a…”—I lowered my voice to a whisper— “cougar.”

  Portman suppressed a smile. “That’s all very… interesting. But, it’s not evidence.”

  I felt a little insulted by his dismissive attitude. If he told me I’d been watching too much CSI, I would storm out and never come back. “I just thought you should know,” I said, sulkily.

  “We’ll definitely keep this in mind, going forward.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  When I got home, I was antsy. I was dying to head to The Old Grind, but the children would be out of school in less than an hour. Obviously, I couldn’t take them with me. I would have to wait for Paul to get home before I could head into town again. It would be more than a little awkward to ask Katy Baldwin to babysit at this stage. Then an idea struck me. I could take the children to Trudy’s! She still owed me one for looking after her little nightmares when she was paralyzed by grief. And I was sure she wouldn’t mind. Spencer and Chloe were always well behaved for people who were not their parents. I picked up the phone and dialed.

  Trudy was more than happy to have the kids over for a play date while I went to my very important, last-minute dentist appointment. Now, I just had to give my husband the same excuse. As I called the office, I couldn’t help but feel an uncomfortable swell of guilt rising in the pit of my stomach. I had been lecturing Paul on our need to reconnect, and yet, I continued to lie to him. Taking a deep breath, I pushed these feelings aside. Once I had solved Karen’s murder, I would throw all of that energy into my marriage.

  After several rings, Paul’s voice mail answered. I have to admit I was relieved. I left a breezy message about a last minute cancellation at the dentist’s office and how I desperately wanted her to look at my receding gums on the lower left side. If the kids and I weren’t home when he arrived, could he please pick them up at Trudy’s? Of course, we’d probably be there, but just in case I got delayed or something… Hanging up, I quickly changed into the water bra, applied a quick coat of mascara, and I was on my way.

  The Old Grind was busier in the late afternoon than it had been on my previous, night time visits. Busy was good. It was much safer to meet with a potential killer in a crowded coffee shop, than in some secluded alley or parking lot. I walked through the convivial din of coffee drinkers socializing and conducting business, directly to the counter. It was so hectic in there that I hoped Javier would have time to take a break and have a cup of coffee with me. If he didn’t, I wondered if there was any way I could get him to quickly lick a spoon or place his saliva on some other object for me? Patiently, I stood in line behind two other patrons, ordering a vanilla lattes and a chai tea. The customers were being served by a cute young girl with a multitude of braids in her hair and an alarmingly large nose ring. But Javier had to be here somewhere, didn’t he? Perhaps in the back, getting more soy milk or honey? This was peak time after all.

  When it was my turn, I got straight to the point. “Is Javier here?”

  “No, not until tonight,” she replied. “Can I get you something?”

  “Uh… no, I was supposed to meet him…”

  “Are you Paige?”

  “Yes.”

  “He left this for you.” I hadn’t noticed the small white envelope propped against the tip jar, but as the braided girl handed it to me, I saw it was emblazoned with my name.

  “Thanks.” Snatching up the envelope, I hurried back to my car. I didn’t want to open it in this crowded establishment and risk having a flower, a chocolate heart or edible panties fall out on the floor. In the privacy of my vehicle, I tore it open with shaking hands. Inside, was a tiny, deep purple, dried pansy. God, Javier must have garbage bags full of these things at home. There was also a small, folded note. It read:

  Call me… Please?

  303-555-4272

  J.

  The pressed rose had been a cute gesture, but now, with the pansy, it was becoming kind of cutesy. I was pleased that I was not swooning over Javier’s little tokens like some love struck teenager. Really, I was almost beginning to find him a little… annoying. But still I withdrew my cell phone and dialed the number on the paper.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of his voice sent an involuntary shiver through me. He’s annoying remember? I chastised myself. And a bit cheesy. Not to mention, quite possibly lethal. “It’s Paige,” I said.

  “Paige!” He sounded positively thrilled to hear from me. “You got my note?”

  “Yeah, both of them. I was wondering if you wanted to get together for coffee?”

  “I would love to,” he said, and all the hair stood up on my arms, dammit. “Now?”

  “Yes, now. I told Paul I was at the dentist.”

  “Of course, of course I can come now. Where are you?”

  “I’m outside The Old Grind.”

  “We will go somewhere with more privacy, yes? On the same street, two blocks up, there is a place called Pear. I will meet you there.”

  I found the small, intimate bar easily and was seated at a table near the front within minutes. The place was nearly deserted, but I still felt relatively safe. Javier was unlikely to murder me in front of the bartender, the waitress and the drunk salesman seated alone in the far back corner. I looked at my watch: Four-thirty. I should have ample time to collect the DNA sample, and get home safely to my family… as long as Javier showed up soon.

  He did. Less than five minutes after my arrival, he strolled into the dimly lit bistro. Obviously, he lived very close by. As he made his way toward me a sexy smile spread across his lips, and I felt my breath catch in my chest. God, he was good looking. But it was a physical reaction only. I couldn’t forget that he had lied to me about his relationship with Karen, and I was here to prove it. Also, his habit of including pressed flowers with his notes was really corny.

  “I am so happy to see you,” he said, as he sat down across from me. I let him take my hand and squeeze it, just for a moment. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. Should we order a drink?” I wanted to expedite this process.

  “I will get them from the bar. What will you have?”

  “A glass of red wine, please.” I hoped Javier would order a beer or, even better, a highball with a straw in it. I didn’t want to have to steal a glass.

  I watched him as he moved to the bar. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket cut to accentuate his broad shoulders, and a pair of perfectly faded Levis. I was quite sure I’d seen
Brad Pitt wearing a similar ensemble in a magazine. Javier obviously had style… and, somehow, money. But how did he afford a hip wardrobe and a luxury car on coffee shop wages? There had to be another source of income, something that paid him extremely well. Oh God… Maybe he was a gigolo?

  He returned a few moments later holding two glasses of red wine. Shit. “Thanks,” I said.

  “My pleasure,” he replied. “I am just so happy you agreed to meet me.”

  “Well… yes. I wanted to ask you not to come to my house again.”

  He looked pained. “I should not have, but I was desperate to talk to you. Last time… it was not good. I am so sorry.”

  “Oh, for kidnapping me? Think nothing of it.”

  “I feel bad. Please… will you forgive me?”

  “I suppose.” I shrugged.

  “I was so upset because of the police. They treated me like a guilty man. I am only guilty of being a friend to Karen. That is all.”

  “Right,” I said. “That’s a beautiful jacket you’ve got there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t mind getting one like that for Paul’s birthday. Where did you get it?”

  “It was a gift.”

  Of course it was… Probably a gift from one of his sugar-mamas, or whatever the term was. “You’re a lucky guy, Javier. Your aunt dies and leaves you money for a beautiful car, your friend buys you a beautiful jacket…”

  “My sister,” he said.

  “Sorry?”

  “My sister bought me this jacket when she came to visit from Spain. She is a wealthy lady… married to a politician.”

  “Oh. That’s great… wealthy aunt, wealthy sister…”

  He was beginning to eye me a little warily and I realized I was being antagonistic. The anger I felt at having been lied to about his relationship with Karen was seeping into our discourse. I would have to tone it down. After all, I couldn’t have him stalking off in a huff. He had to at least stay until his glass was empty.

  “So…” I said, smiling sweetly, “does your sister come to America often?”

  “Not so often. But she comes once in a while. My other sisters do not come at all. They can not afford the trip.”