The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom

by Robyn Harding

  “That’s too bad,” I said sympathetically. “Do you go home much?”

  “The last time I went home was two years ago, for my niece’s wedding. It is hard to go home. I am busy. My life is here.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

  “Sometimes I feel very lonely.” He gazed intently into my eyes. “But right now, I don’t. I feel… like I am home.” Oh, brother. Was I supposed to fall for that line? Maybe it was because I’d recently discovered Javier was a liar and quite likely, a killer, but it had no effect on me. Besides, I had bigger concerns. Javier’s glass was still half full and I was rapidly running out of idle chit-chat. Thankfully, he picked up the conversation. “Tell me about your family.”

  “Well…” I said, seizing the opportunity. “I’ll need a stronger drink if I’m going to get into all that!”

  Javier laughed. “What would you like?”

  “I’ll have a vodka tonic. But, please… let me get it. And can I get you another drink? Rum and Coke? Bloody Mary? Piña Colada?” I rattled off all the straw-drinks I could think of.

  “No,” he said, standing, “I invited you here tonight. I will buy.”

  Damn. As Javier went to the bar, I looked at his glass of red wine. It was almost like I could see his DNA crawling around on the rim. Not that I knew what DNA looked like, even if you could see it with the naked eye, but I had a mental image of little chain-link things with hundreds of legs. I had to get that glass to the police. (I would worry about its admissibility later.)

  My mind scrambled for a plan. I could pour the wine into a nearby plant, stuff the glass in my purse and tell Javier that a waitress had picked it up assuming he was done. My eyes were searching frantically for a potted fig when I felt Javier’s gaze upon me. He was smiling in my direction and dropping a green plastic straw into my V&T. I noticed, with chagrin, that he had not ordered himself another beverage.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to mask my dismay at his drinkless return. “You’re not going to have another?”

  “I will finish my wine, first,” he said, retaking his seat. “You were going to tell me about your family.”

  “Right. Yes, well… my mom’s retired in Arizona, my dad’s retired in Florida and I have a younger brother who’s a stock trader in New York.”

  Javier nodded, probably wondering why I would need a stronger drink to relay such a blasé story. “Do you see them much?”

  “Once or twice a year…” I shrugged indifferently. Suddenly, like one of Oprah’s light bulb moments, I knew how I was going to get Javier’s DNA. Picking up my highball, I took a small sip from the rim of the glass. “Ewww…” I made a face. “This doesn’t taste right.”

  “Really?” Javier looked puzzled.

  “Something’s not right.” I proffered the drink to him, the green straw pointed in his direction. “Taste it. Doesn’t it taste strange?”

  His lips descended upon the straw as if in slow motion. I just barely refrained from cheering, yesssssssssssssss! “It tastes fine… like a normal vodka and tonic.”

  “Vodka tonic?” I asked, taking the glass back. “I wanted a vodka soda.”

  “I’m sorry. I must have heard wrong. I’ll get you another.”

  “You know what? It’s fine,” I said, breezily, surreptitiously removing the straw from the glass and holding it under the table. “I shouldn’t have any more to drink, anyway. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

  “Can I get you a coffee? A soft drink?”

  “I should go.” Hidden from view, my hands dropped the straw into my purse. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

  It was almost dusk as Javier walked me to my car. Surprisingly, I felt completely at ease with him, despite the darkening sky and relatively secluded surroundings. “I wish you could have stayed longer,” he said, when we reached our destination.

  “Sorry,” I shrugged helplessly, “but I’ve got to get home to the kids.”

  “Could we…” He sounded almost shy. “Could we meet again, some time?”

  “Honestly Javier, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Paige, I understand that you are married and that you love your family. I would never ask you to forsake them. But since I met you, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Oh great.

  He reached for my hand. “I am not asking for a lot. I know you cannot give it to me. But, please… tell me you won’t cut me out of your life completely. You’re such an amazing woman…” He smoothed a lock of hair from my forehead. “Beautiful… sensual… compassionate…”

  Good God! I was half expecting to be billed for all this flattery. “Look Javier… if you promise not to come by my house again, I suppose I could meet you for coffee or a drink… sometime.”

  “Really? You would?” He looked like I’d just bought him another Audi. “I am so thankful. Our friendship means so much to me. You mean so much to me.”

  This was really weirding me out. We had only met, briefly a few times. He didn’t even know how old I was, the names of my children, or the true size of my breasts. He had lied to my face about his relationship with Karen, but now, suddenly, I meant so much to him? Whether he was a killer or not, the guy had serious problems. “Okay,” I said, like he was a small child or mentally challenged. “I’ll drop by the coffee shop again one day.”

  “Soon, I hope.” He brought my hand to his lips. “Thank you.”

  No, thank you, I thought as I hopped into the driver’s seat, for the nice little DNA sample.

  Chapter 24

  I was dying to take the straw in to detective Portman for analysis, but first, I had to endure coffee with my friends and Margot Bauman. Admittedly, I was not starting out with a very positive attitude, but I still felt it was a little early to be filling Karen’s seat at the table.

  Before their ten A.M. arrival, I scurried around the house, frantically tidying. I seemed to have so many other things occupying my mind lately that housework had fallen to the bottom of the list… or, right off the list by the looks of my family room. I wouldn’t have been so concerned if it was only Carly, Trudy and Jane coming over, but I didn’t want to give Margot a bad first impression. Not that I was particularly keen to make a new friend, but neither did I want her to judge me for my slovenliness.

  By the time my guests arrived, I had knocked the dust off most of the furniture, and thrown several armloads of toys, books and games onto my children’s bedroom floors. At least now the kitchen and family room were presentable. I welcomed first Trudy, then Carly, then Jane accompanied by Becca and little Amelia who quickly vanished into the playroom to enjoy some fun, yet educational activities. Margot had yet to arrive as I poured coffees for my friends. Maybe she had decided that it was too soon to infiltrate our clique?

  No sooner had I finished that thought than the doorbell rang. “That must be Margot,” Jane said. “I’ll let her in.”

  “Thanks,” I called, joining Trudy and Carly at the kitchen table. Soon, Jane returned followed by a tall brunette with warm brown eyes and a friendly smile. She looked familiar; I had definitely seen her around Rosedale.

  “Girls, this is Margot.” Margot smiled and gave us a little wave. “Margot, this is Trudy, Carly… and Paige, our hostess today.” Trudy and Carly welcomed her and even I greeted her warmly. It wasn’t really Margot’s fault that Jane had invited her to join us prematurely. It would be rude to be inhospitable.

  “So, Margot…” Trudy said, as I fetched our new addition a cup of coffee. “How many children do you have?”

  “Two.” She replied. “My daughter goes to preschool with Ainsley, and I have an eight year old son in the third grade at Rosedale.”

  “That’s how we met,” Jane explained. “Ainsley and Sophia have so much fun together, that we’ve been having play dates every week.”

  “And where is little Sophia today?” Trudy asked.

  “She’s at her pottery class. I’ve got to pick her up in an hour.”

  “Oh,
my Emily loved pottery class,” Trudy said. “Actually, Cameron liked it, too. They both took classes a couple of years ago, but now they’re involved in a number of other activities.”

  “And how old are they?” Margot asked.

  “Emily’s nine and Cameron’s six—almost the same age as Paige’s kids.”

  “Yep,” I said, sliding the cream and sugar toward Margot. “My daughter’s ten and my son is six.”

  “And what about you?” Margot turned to Carly. “How old are your little ones?”

  I always felt pangs of sympathy for Carly whenever our conversations turned too mommy. It must have been hard for her to listen to us gush on about preschool and pottery classes and how fast they all were growing. I knew she was desperate to have a family of her own one day, but as far as I could see, she wasn’t anywhere close… unless, of course, a man could impregnate you buy handing you a free Diet Coke. When Karen was with us, we had had a nice balance in our group: three were mommies, two were not. It had ensured that our topics of conversation were wide and varied, not focusing too much attention on our various offspring. But with Margot in our circle, there was a perceptible shift, and Carly was definitely the odd one out.

  But to my surprise, she smiled easily at the newcomer before answering. “I don’t have any children, yet. But, hopefully one day…” She held up her crossed fingers.

  God, she had become so Zen. Maybe she felt that de-cluttering her garage would make room in her womb for a couple of kids?

  “I went through a difficult divorce a few years ago,” Carly explained. “My husband ran off with another woman who had two young sons. I was angry and hurt for a long time, but given recent events, I’ve really been able to put things in perspective.”

  Jane leaned in to Margot. “I don’t know if you heard about Karen Sutherland. She was a very close friend of ours.”

  “I did hear,” Margot said, sympathetically. “It’s such a terrible tragedy. She was so young.”

  We all nodded, silently. At the mere mention of her name, my eyes threatened to well up with tears. It just seemed so strange and sad to be sitting here, drinking coffee without our treasured friend.

  “It’s been hard on all of us,” Jane said.

  Trudy added, “And her husband is devastated. They had been hoping to start a family.”

  “Although…” Jane said, and by her tone I could sense what was coming. “Paige thinks Doug might be moving on a little too quickly.”

  “What’s this?” Carly asked.

  Shut up Jane, I silently willed her. Why do I tell you anything? You are such a blabber mouth.

  “Paige saw Jackie Baldwin over at Doug’s the other night. They were drinking wine and…” Jane paused for dramatic effect.

  “What?” Trudy asked.

  “She was rubbing his shoulders!” Her tone was exaggerated, as if I had witnessed something really incriminating, like she was licking his testicles!

  “Well…” Trudy said, nervously. “She’s probably trying to sell him a condo. He mentioned that he was thinking of downsizing.”

  “He did?” This came as a surprise to me, but then, I hadn’t done more than wave to Doug since the funeral.

  “It’s normal to want to leave a house where such a terrible accident occurred,” she continued. “He probably feels haunted by Karen’s memory there.”

  “Yeah,” Carly agreed. “But obviously, moving is a huge emotional step. He was probably tense and Jackie was trying to get him to relax.”

  “True,” Margot nodded. What did she know? She’d just joined us and she was already making suppositions about Doug and Jackie’s relationship.

  “Although…” Jane was saying. “Jackie does have a reputation for going to any lengths to make a sale.” Her tone became suggestive. “She’s rather famous for going above and beyond the call of duty to close a deal.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Carly said, looking at her watch. “I completely forgot I’ve got a conference call at ten forty-five.” She hopped up. “I’ve go to go. Sorry girls.”

  “Oh no…” we all murmured in dismay. “Could you come back afterward?”

  “This will take a while,” Carly said, pulling on her sweater. “Thanks for the coffee, Paige. Margot, so nice to meet you.”

  I couldn’t help but wish that I had a conference call at ten forty-five, or some other reason to call an end to this gathering. Maybe I was overreacting, but their lighthearted banter about Doug having wine and massages with our sexually aggressive neighbor bothered me. It just wasn’t right. It was too soon. And as warm and friendly as Margot was, maybe it was too soon for her to be sitting in on these conversations? It didn’t feel right to have this virtual stranger listening to us discuss the length of Doug’s grieving period.

  With our only childless member gone, the conversation turned to our kids, their schools and various extracurricular activities. I tried to keep my mind from wandering to the small green straw sealed in a sandwich baggie nestled in my purse, but I was dying to get the evidence to Detective Portman. Once we knew for certain that Javier was the father of Karen’s baby then the police could begin their investigation of him in earnest—because if he could lie so convincingly about the nature of his relationship with my friend, then he could lie about his involvement in her death, too.

  Finally, Margot excused herself to go pick up her daughter from pottery class. I made rumblings about having a number of errands to run and my other guests got the hint. When I had seen my friends out, I hurried to the phone to call Portman.

  “I need to see you,” I said, almost gleefully. “It’s important.”

  “Sure… uh…” There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “Let’s meet somewhere different this time. There’s a Starbucks on the corner of sixteenth and Lawrence.”

  “Okay. That’s a bit of a walk for you, isn’t it?”

  “I could use the fresh air.”

  “See you soon!”

  Portman was not there when I arrived. I decided to take the liberty of ordering us a couple of lattes. It was sure to be a treat for him after drinking Vera’s weak and tepid diner coffee. I was still waiting at the counter when he walked in. He took off his sunglasses and scanned the room. When his eyes fell upon me, he smiled briefly and came over.

  “I’ve ordered you a latte,” I said.

  “Great. Thanks. I’ll go get us a table. There’s one at the back over there.” He pointed to a secluded corner near the washrooms.

  I watched him take his seat. In this setting, there was something unmistakably authoritative about him, something that just seemed to scream: COP!!! As usual, I couldn’t ignore Detective Portman’s almost macho attractiveness. But today, there was something different in his manner. Maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, but Troy seemed fidgety, uneasy, even… nervous. It was also odd that he had chosen us an isolated table uncomfortably close to the men’s toilet.

  With a painfully warm paper cup in each hand, I hurried to join him. “Did you want sugar or anything?” I offered.

  “This is fine, thanks. I can reimburse you the cost of the coffees if you give me a receipt.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I waved away the offer. “It’s my treat. I just appreciate you picking a meeting place where the coffee doesn’t taste like dishwater.”

  “Ha-ha…” It was a forced laugh.

  “Seriously… it’s really nice of you. I know it’s out of your way.”

  “Well…” he cleared his throat loudly. “I guess we should get down to business. What did you want to see me about?”

  I felt a little flush of embarrassment at being cut off so abruptly. Apparently, Portman wasn’t in the mood for niceties. “Okay…” I said, fishing in my purse for the sandwich baggie full of Javier’s DNA. “I’ve got some… uh, evidence,” I whispered the word, sliding the plastic pouch across the table.

  Portman looked it. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a straw with Javier Rueda’s DNA on it.” />
  “Paige…,” He trailed off with an exasperated sigh.

  “Now you can test the paternity of Karen’s baby!” I was feeling quite proud of myself.

  He took a long sip of coffee before answering; his eyes were fixed on the washroom’s sign above my head. “There’s no way I can get it into the lab.”

  “Why not?”

  “I explained the other day about legally admissible evidence. This would never fly.”

  “Okay…” I suddenly felt flustered. “So maybe this wouldn’t be admissible in court, but you can still use it to test the baby’s paternity can’t you? Like, just for your personal knowledge? And once you know the answer, you’ll be able to investigate Javier further.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” God, he was so ‘by the book’. Hadn’t he ever watched The Shield?

  “Look,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. You don’t understand police work, okay? Besides, my partner wants to close the case.”

  “Close it?” I shrieked. I lowered my voice before continuing. “How can you close it? We don’t know what happened to Karen yet!”

  “Well… we do know what happened,” he said calmly. “She fell and hit her head. Conroy doesn’t think there’s anything more to it than that.”

  “Did you tell him about the affair? That the baby wasn’t Doug’s?”

  “A lot of people have affairs.” He shrugged. “And both the husband and the boyfriend have alibis.”

  “People fake alibis all the time!” I cried. “Once you prove Karen’s baby was Javier’s he’ll be your prime suspect. Did you know that the leading cause of death in pregnant women is murder by the baby’s father?”

  “Yeah, I know…”

  “Well, does Conroy know?”

  “Of course he does, but…” He fidgeted nervously in his seat. His face had suddenly gone alarmingly red. “He thinks that I might have a… conflict of interest, in this case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Another heavy sigh. “He thinks that I may not be acting in an entirely professional manner with regard to the investigation.”