Motherhood is Murder

by Diana Orgain

  Jim was in line getting me a hot coffee, while I frantically tried to reach my mother, who was babysitting for us.

  I moved away from the windows, still focused on the phone, and slammed directly into Nick Dowling, the San Francisco Medical Examiner.

  “Mrs. Connolly! What a coincidence.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. If Nick was here, it couldn’t be good news for Helene.

  “Mr. Dowling. Don’t tell me Helene is . . .”

  Nick brushed his bangs off his forehead. “Well, I’m not supposed to tell you anything. You know that, Kate.”

  After giving birth to Laurie just a few short weeks ago, I’d been dragged into a murder investigation. Well, maybe “dragged” wasn’t the right word. I had launched a fledgling private investigation business. Maybe “launched” wasn’t the right word either. I had solved a missing person’s case, and two murders.

  Yes, I had solved it.

  I’d also met the medical examiner.

  The ME is called to a scene only when a death has occurred.

  I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I felt Nick’s hand on my elbow.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. Were you close?”

  I shook my head. “No, I only met her briefly. She and another mom invited me to join their mommy group. Tonight I met the whole gang.”

  He sighed. Something buzzed from inside his jacket pocket. “Sorry, I have to get that.” He fished out his cell phone and hurried toward the exit.

  Nick had reception, why didn’t I?

  I tried to focus on my phone but there was a tightening in my chest, my eyes teared.

  Poor Helene. Dead? What could have happened?

  How could a fall down some steps have killed her? Had she broken her neck? Head trauma or what?

  One minute she was alive and well, eating dinner with us, then suddenly she was gone.

  How many children did she have? They needed their mommy.

  I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

  What was behind all the looks exchanged at my table? There seemed to be some animosity between the women.

  Could Helene have been murdered?

  Maybe someone pushed her down the stairs.

  No, that didn’t make any sense.

  Certainly if anyone was trying to kill her, they wouldn’t have done it on a crowded dinner cruise, much less by pushing her down a stairwell. That would have been stupid.

  Push her overboard, maybe, but not down some steps.

  It had to have been an accident. Or perhaps she’d died of natural causes. But she looked so healthy!

  Maybe an aneurysm—those could strike suddenly and take someone’s life even if they were young and seemingly healthy.

  The medical examiner would figure it out.

  Could I help in any way? Maybe there’d be a need for a PI?

  Right. What was I thinking? I had no license. No way to land a case on my own. The only way I could fathom landing a case would be to enroll help from Senior PI Albert Galigani.

  Galigani had been instrumental on my first case. Maybe he would let me use his license, or work for him. I’d do whatever it took to make myself legit.

  I pushed the thought aside. Legitimacy didn’t matter. Helping Helene did. Although I hardly knew her, my heart grieved.

  I recalled meeting her last week. I was at Angles de la Terre, the ultrachic baby store in downtown San Francisco. It was pricey, but they carried high-end products and had a great selection of items such as cradle cap cream, which I hadn’t been able to find at Target. Never mind the fact that there is no Target or Walmart in San Francisco. So after being forced to shop in a neighboring town and striking out, I made the trip downtown.

  I was rewarded by the smell of chocolate wafting in from next door to Angles de la Terre. A tiny chocolatier selling only superb candy had been at the same location for ninety years. I stopped in and conducted a quality check. After all, old-time traditions need to be maintained. And who better to taste the chocolate than a San Francisco native?

  Wasn’t there something about chocolate that had medicinal properties anyway?

  As I roamed the aisles of Angles de la Terre, I licked what remained of the truffle off my fingers. Indeed the quality was still superb.

  I pushed Laurie’s stroller down the organic cotton diapers aisle, which was flanked by signs noting MADE BY FAIR TRADE WORKERS, and felt my shoulders relax to the new age music. The next aisle held the remedies I was looking for, including cradle cap cream.

  I grabbed the bottle and examined the ingredients—all natural, of course.

  And ooh—aroma-therapeutic properties.

  A woman, tall and slender with impeccable posture, rounded the corner of my aisle.

  She stopped short of Laurie’s stroller and gazed down at her. Laurie was decked out in a frilly little pink dress with matching pink booties and hat.

  “She’s beautiful,” the woman said.

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  She scrutinized me. “Your first?”

  I laughed. “That obvious, huh?”

  “All new moms have that same look about them.”

  “Clueless?”

  It was her turn to laugh. “No. Sort of shocked, kinda giddy, and yet . . .”

  “Clueless.”

  The woman chuckled and stuck out her hand. “I’m Margaret Lipe.”

  I juggled the bottle of cream to my left hand and shook hers. “Kate.”

  “Magic Moments!” she said. “That’s the best product line ever. You only need a little bit and it works like a charm. Have you tried their infant massage oil?” She reached over and picked up a bottle. “It’s got lavender and I don’t know what else in it.” She flipped it over to examine the label. “Well, whatever it is, it just makes your little one snooze away.”

  “Who wouldn’t want that?”

  Margaret raised her eyebrows in a knowing response and handed me the bottle. “A few drops and you’re set.”

  “I haven’t heard about Magic Moments.”

  She looked at me like I was from Mars. “Are you local?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t you belong to a mommy group?” she asked.

  “No. Who has the time?”

  “You have to make the time. It’s important not to lose yourself in the mothering process.”

  “Yeah. It’s easy to get caught up in diapers, milk, and not much else.” I shook the bottles in my hand. “Except maybe for cradle cap remedies.”

  “Well, mommy groups are really good for recommendations and keeping up with the latest scoop on everything! I run one and I’m always on the lookout for what works, what saves time, who’s the best nanny, that sort of thing. And it’s great to have the support. When I had my second baby, the other moms in the group took turns bringing me homemade dinners. Are you a stay-at-home?”

  “Oh, a stay-at-home mom? Yes, I mean, I guess so . . . well, I work, too . . . sort of.”

  She nodded knowingly. “You haven’t decided. Are you on maternity leave?”

  “Uh. No . . . I . . . um . . .”

  Why was I stuttering like a ninny?

  I knew what I was doing. I had quit my job and I was staying at home with Laurie. The fact that I was trying to start my own business didn’t change my status. Did it? Was I considered a working mom? Or was I a stay-at-home mom?

  “I’m at home but I also work,” I blurted. I reached into my diaper bag and proudly presented her with a homemade

  PI business card I had printed.

  Margaret looked at the card curiously. “Ooooh. A private investigator?”

  My natural inclination was to shy away from the attention, but I recalled my best friend, Paula, scolding me. “If you want to launch a business, the first thing you have to do is tell everybody!”

  I simply nodded at Margaret and stood there flat-footed.

  Another woman appeared at the head of the aisle. “There you are!”

  “Oh, sorry. I was chatting,” Margaret said. “This is Helene. We cofounded our mommy group, Roo & You.”

  Helene, lean and mean, was s
porting designer blue jeans and chartreuse high heels. Her tan wool jacket was open slightly, revealing a blouse in the exact same shade as her shoes. She reached out and shook my hand. Hanging from her arm was the matching chartreuse handbag.

  “Is Margaret recruiting you?” Helene leaned over the stroller. “She’s darling. Pretty in pink and matchy-matchy. Just like me. I love it.”

  “Next week our group is going on a dinner cruise,” Margaret said. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “A dinner cruise?” I asked.

  “We usually meet at my place on Thursday afternoons for a playdate, but since you’re working, you might not be able to make afternoons, huh?”

  So there it was. I was working. I wasn’t a stay-at-home.

  Something inside me deflated. I wanted to be a stay-at-home mommy. Why couldn’t I be? After all, I wasn’t really working. I didn’t have a current client. I was free on Thursday afternoons. I could make a playdate, whatever that was.

  “Helene caught a cruising bug,” Margaret continued. “She scored us tickets for a cruise around the bay. We’re all bringing our husbands.”

  “One thing that happens to new moms is that you practically forget about the dads. They need attention, too.” Helene rummaged around her handbag and pulled out a package of Nicorette gum. “Margaret wanted to include our guys. So, Roo & You hired a couple of babysitters to watch the wee ones.” She unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth. “And we’re going sailing!”

  A bay dinner cruise.

  An evening with Jim and no baby? No nursing, no diapers, no bath time, no crying?

  Hmmm. A cruise did sound a little more enticing than a playdate.

  What would I wear?

  Margaret dug a card out of her purse and handed it to me. It read Roo & You—President and had a little graphic of a kangaroo with a baby in its pouch. “You should come along and check out our group,” she said.

  “It sounds like fun,” I replied.

  Helene poked Margaret. “We need to go. Marcus is probably hungry by now.”

  Margaret smiled at me. “He’s six months old and I’m vetting a new nanny. Unfortunately, someone stole the one I used with my two-year-old.”

  A nanny. Must be nice.

  Helene chomped on the gum. “This stuff doesn’t work. I still want a cigarette.”

  “You should try those patches.” Margaret said, linking her arm through Helene’s. She turned to me. “Call or e-mail me. I’ll save you two tickets for the cruise.”

  The boat swayed, the motion brought my mind back to the present.

  I still needed to call Mom. How could I find a network? I extended my arm and did a ridiculous dance trying to coax more than two bars out of the phone.

  I quickly dialed home. All I could see in my mind’s eye was Laurie’s pretty round face with her rosy cheeks and toothless grin. Thank God I’d pumped before leaving the house this evening. I only hoped they wouldn’t keep us here too much longer. I was missing Laurie like crazy.

  I twisted and suddenly saw full bars. Mom answered on the third ring.

  “How’s Lemon Drop?” I asked.

  Samba music blared in the background, then suddenly stopped.

  “She fine, dear. Sleeping.”

  “What are you listening to?”

  “Ricky Martin.”

  “Laurie is sleeping through Ricky Martin?”

  “Yes, well, she’s really still too young to enjoy the finer things in life.”

  I filled Mom in on the developments.

  She gasped. “Don’t worry about Laurie and me, we’re fine. Just take care of whatever you need to. We’ll be here.”

  What would I do without Mom?

  As I was about to thank her and hang up, I heard a male voice in the background. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh! That’s Hank. He came over to keep me company.” >

  After nearly fifteen years of being single, Mom had recently started dating again. Hank was the man who’d brought her out of hiding.

  “What are you, a teenager? You have some guy over as soon as the adults are out of the house?”

  Mom laughed. “I needed somebody to samba with and Laurie just wasn’t cooperating.”

  From the main staircase four police officers in uniform descended. They wore solemn expressions and walked in lockstep.

  “I gotta go,” I said to Mom and hung up.

  I returned to our table, where Jim and my, no doubt, cold coffee were waiting.

  Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, the officers dispersed. Each one approached a different table, the divide and conquer method.

  The officer that came to our table was Asian-American. He had a strong compact build and a smooth complexion. He leaned forward, his hands resting on the tabletop, and cleared his throat. “Evening, ladies and gentlemen, I’m Officer Lee. Sorry about the delay. The captain wants to dock as soon as possible, but before we can let you all go—I need to get a statement from each of you and some contact information.”

  “How’s Helene?” Margaret asked.

  Officer Lee focused on Margaret and sized her up, nodding to himself several times. “The medical staff is with her now.”

  Medical staff?

  He meant the medical examiner, I was sure of it. But I supposed SFPD had a reason for not disclosing that. I hadn’t had an opportunity to mention to anyone that I had bumped into the ME. Now, I felt certain I should keep it to myself.

  Except, of course, for Jim.

  Reflexively my hand reached out to touch Jim’s leg. He placed his hand over mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Officer Lee straightened and pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket. “I’d like to begin with you,” he said to Margaret. “Please follow me.”

  Margaret gave the napkin in her lap one final wring, then stood up. Her tutu sprang to attention.

  Officer Lee seemed momentarily dazed by Margaret’s attire. He gathered himself enough to mumble, “If everyone can please get their identification cards or driver’s licenses ready, it’ll make this whole process go much smoother.”

  Margaret followed Lee toward the lounge area, where they carved out a private space to speak. The rest of us at the table exchanged sympathetic looks and began to gather up purses and wallets to prove our identity.

  Evelyn craned to look out the starboard windows. “Where’s the hospital boat? Why aren’t they shuttling her off the boat?”

  “Maybe she’s not hurt all that bad,” Sara offered.

  “Then why are the police here?” Evelyn shrieked.

  Evelyn’s husband put his hand on her shoulder. Evelyn sat up straighter and pushed her belly out.

  Sara gave Evelyn the evil eye. “How should I know why the police are here? Maybe all this has something to do with you!”

  “Me!” Evelyn said, pressing her hand to her heart.

  Sara’s husband, Howard, looked stunned. “Sara!” He took hold of her arm.

  She shrugged him off. “Why did you even come on this cruise?” she said to Evelyn. “You aren’t a member of Roo & You anymore. I’m sure Helene made that clear to you!”

  Evelyn’s face flushed bright red. A lock of blond hair slipped from her barrette and fell across her face; she fiercely brushed it aside, then jutted her finger out at Sara. “I saw you and Helene arguing at the top of the stairs. I saw you. I saw you fighting!”

  Indignation crossed Sara’s face, but before she could reply, her husband noisily pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “Come on. We don’t need to sit here and listen to this.”

  Sara seemed torn. She looked as though she wanted to stay and fight with Evelyn, but couldn’t find the courage to stand up to her husband.

  She pressed her lips together as her husband grabbed her arm. She stood and glared at Evelyn, then walked with him to the lounge area.

  Evelyn’s husband, Fred, patted her arm. “Honey, don’t upset yourself or the baby.”

  Evelyn huffed an inaudible response.

  Our table fell into silence.

  A fight?

  I remembered Sara, Miss No-Nonsense, in the
bathroom and how disheveled she looked. Why had her dress been wet?

  I imagined Helene throwing a drink at her and Sara pushing Helene down the stairs.

  No.

  Too dramatic.

  Jim leaned close to me and whispered, “I didn’t know we’d get to see fireworks on this cruise.”

  I elbowed him.

  “And we didn’t even have to pay extra!” he continued.

  One agency or other was always advertising firework displays on the San Francisco Bay, whether it was after a ball game or during a dinner cruise. Usually there was an extra charge at those events.

  I shook my head at him, conjuring visions of the medical examiner hovering over a pasty Helene.

  Poor thing!

  Fred leaned in toward Evelyn. “What did she mean, you aren’t a member of Roo & You?”

  Evelyn flicked her hand about as though to distract us or at the very least indicate to her husband to move off the topic. “I saw Helene and Sara bickering at the top of the staircase that Helene fell down.”

  “Over what?” Fred asked.

  Margaret and Officer Lee approached our table. Evelyn fanned her hand at Fred, silencing him.

  Margaret reached her chair and seated herself, tucking in her tutu around her. Lee scanned the room. I followed his gaze, which settled on Sara and Howard arguing in a corner of the lounge. I turned back to face Officer Lee, only to see him leave our table and head toward Sara.

  Margaret’s lipstick had faded to nothing and her eyes looked drawn. I glanced at my watch. It was well past midnight now and I was feeling sapped. With Margaret’s return, the table had fallen into silence and I longed to be alone with Jim.

  Jim wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “Are you cold, honey? You want me to get you some hot coffee?”

  I perked up. “I’ll go with you.”

  We stood to leave and ended up taking orders from our table for hot teas and coffees. As we made our way to the bar, I noticed that several passengers were speaking with officers at strategic locations throughout the dining and lounge area. One silver-haired woman was speaking animatedly with a female officer. She was gesticulating wildly while the officer scribbled notes on a notepad.

  I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but Jim was walking too fast. At six foot two, Jim has serious long legs, so they don’t even have to be moving all that fast to leave me in the dust. I pulled at his arm to slow him down.