Motherhood is Murder

by Diana Orgain

  “Did you suspect anything?” I asked.

  Celia pushed the buttons on the bed, first lowering herself and then overcorrecting to a sitting position. She kicked off the covers in frustration.

  “I hate this stupid bed!” She rose, shuffled to the door, and looked into the hallway. She turned back to me, and her shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I don’t know when they’re supposed to release me and I’m getting anxious to go.”

  I stood. “I’ll go. Dr. Wong is supposed to be checking on me soon anyway.”

  “No. No, don’t go. You asked if I suspected anything.” She crossed back to the bed and jumped on top of it, opting not to get under the covers. Her delicate legs and feet dangled over the side.

  I waited for her to continue.

  “I didn’t outright suspect him or really even think about it until he tried to kill me. I don’t know why he would kill Helene and then try to kill me. Maybe he thought I knew something or saw something. At least that’s what the homicide cop suggested.” She looked expectantly at me. “Do you know why? Were they having marital problems?”

  I shrugged. “Well, you certainly knew them better than me. All I know is Margaret told me Helene wanted kids but Bruce didn’t. But weren’t you helping them to adopt?”

  Celia’s mouth clamped shut and she gripped at the covers. “Oh. Who told you about that?”

  “Bruce did.”

  Her grip relaxed and she released the bed cover. “Helene really wanted kids, I’d heard about this situation in Costa Rica. My second cousin . . . she’s only fifteen . . . Anyway, I was trying to help Helene and my cousin. But now that she’s gone . . .” She pressed her lips together so tightly they turned white. “That’s why I was there talking to Bruce. My cousin is ready to deliver and now she doesn’t know what she’s going to do.”

  “Bruce wants to back out?”

  She nodded and sat up straighter. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The guy’s a murderer. Now, I wouldn’t let him even look at my little cousin.”

  The nurse poked her head in the door. “Oh, there you are, Mrs. Connolly. Dr Wong will be able to see you in a few minutes.”

  “What about me?” Celia asked.

  “I’ll be back with your dinner.” The nurse left.

  Celia made a face. “Sounds like I’m staying for a while. I hate hospitals. That’s why I offer an alternative to women giving birth.”

  I rose from the chair. “Celia, I was thinking. How do you suppose he did it?”

  Celia looked as though she was considering the question for the first time.

  “It wasn’t in the salmon,” I added.

  “Probably in my drink or something.”

  “Did you taste anything?”

  Celia glanced upward as if trying to recall. “Hmm. Now that you mention it. My beer did taste rather . . . metallic. But sometimes beer does, so I didn’t think anything of it.”

  I returned to my room to find McNearny sitting on the chair next to the bed.

  Uh-oh!

  I glanced down at my hospital gown. Not the kind of look a gal wants while having company. I desperately searched the room for a robe.

  None.

  “Can I help you?” I demanded.

  McNearny stared at me. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged.

  He cleared his throat and stood. “Well, glad to see you’re up and about.”

  Was he?

  I had to be cautious; it would be just like him to try and get me off my guard.

  He motioned for me to take a seat on the bed. I sat and pulled the sheet up to my neck, more or less defensively. He sat back down on the chair. We waited each other out in silence.

  After a minute he said, “Maybe you can help. What happened today?”

  I briefly recounted the details of my lunch at Bruce’s. He shook his head back and forth in complete and utter disapproval as I spoke.

  “What were you doing there in the first place?”

  “I wanted to find out what Helene and Sara had been fighting about that night on the cruise.”

  “And what was it? Is it relevant?”

  “Apparently they fought about a construction project and whether or not it was being canceled.”

  He scowled. “Who cares about that?”

  My hands clenched involuntarily. “Well, I also wanted to know if he’d seen anything that night. Like Helene drinking Margaret’s drink—”

  “l told you to limit your actions to the doctor!” McNearny growled.

  “Well . . . I . . .”

  He stood. “Do not step on this investigation. I’m not interested in idle gossip about who is canceling projects. I’m canceling you. You got that? Believe it or not, SFPD was here before you broke onto the scene. We have the training and experience necessary to handle this. It’s not amateur hour. Amateurs end up in the hospital!”

  I remained quiet, duly reprimanded.

  He leaned in a bit. “Either that or they end up in jail for interference!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Second Wind

  To Do:

  1. Talk with Galigani—what are the real dangers of this business?

  2. Stock up on soup and tea.

  3. Dust and clean house—yuck!

  4. Ask Jim to do laundry.

  5. Laurie swim classes?

  6. Be a better mom—stay out of trouble—do NOT endanger Laurie.

  The following morning, I puttered around the kitchen making coffee, still not sure if I would be able to drink any. My throat continued to hurt and only tea seemed to go down. It was 9:00 A.M., and Jim and Laurie were still sleeping.

  The nurses had pumped Laurie full of formula and it seemed to knock her out overnight. We had been up to breastfeed only once, around 3:00 A.M.

  Hmmm. Something to keep in mind.

  When we got home last night, after the hospital escapade, Jim had made me promise not to investigate without guidance. He’d said if Galigani wasn’t willing to sponsor me as an intern and supervise me, then I’d have to stop investigating.

  Actually, the arrangement was fine with me. I hated being scolded by McNearny. What if he arrested me?

  No.

  I would be a stay-at-home mom! Full-time mother! Completely dedicated and 100 percent devoted to my little flower!

  The temperature had dropped overnight and it looked like we were in for a bit of a cold spell. At least by San Francisco standards, high forties. I planned to snuggle under a fleece blanket, drink tea, be with Laurie, and watch TV all day.

  After all, isn’t that what new moms were supposed to do?

  No running around and thinking I had consumed something deadly.

  I flicked on the TV and at the first commercial break got antsy. I peeked at my cell phone and noticed the voice mail indicator on. I’d missed three calls yesterday.

  Hmmm.

  No!

  I’m a stay-at-home. One hundred percent mom. If I listened to my voice mails, I might get sucked in again. I padded to the middle of room, where Laurie was lightly sleeping in the bassinet. She fidgeted and swung her arms. I touched her cheek, and despite the fuzzy sleeper, she seemed cold.

  When would I be allowed to use a blanket in her bassinet? She had broken out of the swaddle a few weeks prior, and keeping her warm in this weather was going to become a concern.

  My eyes flicked back to my cell phone. There wasn’t any harm in checking messages, was there? All I would be doing was listening. Maybe there was an important message, even something urgent.

  I grabbed my cell phone as the doorbell rang. I made my way to the front door and looked through the peek hole. There was a pregnant belly poking its way through a bouquet of flowers. My best friend, Paula, was standing behind the bouquet.

  I flung the door open and a gust of wind hit me in the face. I grabbed Paula around the neck, crushing the flowers between us. “Oh, my God, what are you doing here?”

  Paula, a born designer, was wearing a white cashmere overcoat and was wrapped in pink accessories. Pink gloves, scarf, and hat. They matched her cheeks.

  She stepped
inside and handed me the flowers. “These are for you.”

  “For what?”

  “I called yesterday and Jim told me you had been in the hospital. I wanted to come see you right away.”

  A delicate Parisian shopping bag hung from her wrist. She unlatched it and handed it to me. “Something for the little one. Where is she?”

  I directed her to the living room. Paula immediately spotted the bassinet and rushed to unbundle herself. She thrust all her pink accessories at me, even her Dolce & Gabbana purse—also in pink.

  I hung everything in the hall closet. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

  “I came home to have the baby!” she said, reflexively rubbing her belly.

  “But you’re not due, for what, another couple of months, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, but I wanted to be home before I got too far along to travel.”

  “What about David and Danny?” I asked.

  Paula and her husband, David, had relocated to Paris several months ago with their two-year-old, Danny. David worked for a top consulting firm and they’d requested he take an assignment in France, holding the promise of a promotion over his head. “At home getting settled in,” Paula said. In moments she had scoped Laurie up. “Kate! She’s so darling.”

  Laurie remarkably remained asleep in her arms.

  “Who do you look like?” Paula asked Laurie. “You have your dad’s forehead. What about your eyes?” She jiggled Laurie. “Hey, wake up there, kid. I’m talking to you.”

  I nudged Paula shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”

  Paula laughed and continued her conversation with a snoozing Laurie. “I’m having a girl, too. You guys will be best friends, just like your mommy and me. I can’t wait.”

  I gestured for her to have a seat.

  “Where’s Jim?” Paula asked.

  “Still sleeping.”

  Paula raised an eyebrow. “You are the luckiest person I know. What new mother can actually sit down and have a conversation with a girlfriend while her newborn and husband sleep?”

  I waved a hand at her. “I’m sure the peace and quiet will be short lived. Coffee?”

  She sat on an easy chair in front of the couch and nestled Laurie into the crook of her arm. “I’m dying for a cup of coffee, but I’m doing the caffeine-free thing until the baby is born.”

  “I have decaf tea.”

  Giving me a thumbs-up, she kicked off her pink ballet slipper flats and propped her swollen feet on my coffee table as I headed to the kitchen. When I returned with two steaming mugs of tea, she said, “Kate, you look great. Did you wear one of those girdle things after giving birth?”

  I stopped in my tracks. “What girdle things?”

  “You know, like the kind I wore after having Danny.

  You wear it for the first six weeks after giving birth and it pulls your tummy right in.”

  “What! I’m as big as a house! You never told me this! And Laurie’s already seven weeks! Is it too late?”

  Paula laughed. “You are not as big as a house. Where do you get that stuff? I just told you, you look great.”

  I pulled up my shirt to show her my stomach. “Look at this!” I said, pinching a fold between my fingers.

  “Oh, you’re just a little swollen. That’s what the girdle thingy helps with. It compresses your muscles or something and helps with the swelling.”

  “Am I too late?”

  Paula shrugged and took a tea mug from my hand. “I don’t know, I don’t think so, I think they recommend the first six weeks, but I’ll send you the web link. You can read all about it.”

  There was a product out there that helped you get back to your prebaby shape and I’d missed it? What the hell kind of investigator was I?

  I resumed my perch on the couch, covering my legs with the blanket. “Are you warm enough?”

  She nodded and indicated her belly. “You know, running hotter than usual. Tell me what happened.”

  “You mean yesterday?” I asked.

  She sipped her tea and nodded.

  “What did Jim tell you?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Just the basics. Don’t worry—we still have plenty of things for you to explain.”

  I gave her a brief account of the happenings since Helene’s death and ended by saying, “I freaked out yesterday and had a panic attack.”

  “I always knew you’d end up nuts.”

  I pushed her shoulder. “Shut up.”

  “Either that or drive the rest of us crazy.” Paula sipped her tea and winked at me. “Better you than me, sister.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah. Well, hey, I would have done the same thing. Christ, Kate, you practically found a dead woman.”

  “I didn’t know your own mind could cause you to get physically sick like that. I mean, Paula, I was really sick. I threw up and had awful stomach cramps, I was dizzy, I was—”

  “Kate!” Paula pulled her feet off the coffee table, leaned toward me, and grabbed my hand. “It’s not an everyday thing. Of course you made yourself sick. Who wouldn’t? Remember when we were twelve and you got your first period? I’m the one who ended up in bed with phantom menstrual cramps.”

  I laughed at the memory. I had been confused about what was going on with my body, and Paula, who always knew infinitely more about women stuff because of her older sisters, had to be put to bed with Midol and a heating pad. As it turned out, Paula didn’t get her first menstrual cycle until almost a year later. I somehow weathered my first period without the medicine and attention, but simply went home and found Mom’s sanitary pads in the bathroom closet.

  “That was different. We didn’t know what was going on then.”

  “Well, you didn’t know what was going on yesterday. Hell, the guy could have poisoned you.”

  “No. It really doesn’t make any sense. Intellectually, I knew that. Even if he is guilty of murdering his wife, he’s not going to poison an investigator at his place. That would be insane.”

  “Well, he poisoned the midwife at his place basically in front of you. That sounds pretty crazy or stupid to me,” Paula said.

  “I don’t know. What bothers me is that Margaret sort of set me up to believe it was Alan all along, and now I’m not sure if she really thinks that or if I was duped.”

  Paula sipped her tea. “What’s your theory?”

  I sighed. “I don’t have one.”

  Paula rubbed her belly thoughtfully and made a little hmmm sound. “If Margaret or Alan weren’t there yesterday, then there’s no way they could have poisoned Celia, right?”

  “Well, I don’t really know anything about what she might have been given. How long had she been there before I arrived? I mean, could she have been given something before getting to Bruce’s place? How long does it take for a poison to work or whatever before someone starts to feel the effects?”

  Paula shrugged. “What kind of poison was it?”

  “We won’t know until the medical examiner releases the toxicology report.”

  “When’s that?”

  I pressed my hands against my tea mug to warm them. “At least a week, I think.” After a moment, I said, “How was Paris?”

  Paula folded her hands under her pregnant belly. “Very French. It was wonderful, and at the same time that I was sad to leave, I’m ecstatic to be home.”

  My phone rang.

  “Probably my mom calling from Mexico.” I grabbed the receiver.

  “Kate, it’s Bruce. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  I almost dropped the phone.

  Paula brought her feet off the table and sat up. “Who is it?”

  “Bruce,” I mouthed, sitting next to her and holding the phone out a bit.

  She leaned forward to eavesdrop.

  “What is the purpose of your call, please?” I asked.

  “Oh . . . um . . . can we meet?”

  Before I could scream “No!” Paula grabbed my knee. I shook my head at her. She nodded emphatically. I put the phone on mute.

  “Are you crazy? I’m not meeting him!” I said.

  “Tell him to meet you at the café down the street. I’ll go with you.”


  I shook my head. “I promised Jim I wouldn’t investigate—”

  Paula waved me off. “Don’t tell him.”

  “I can’t lie to him.”

  “I didn’t say lie. I said don’t tell him.”

  “Do you do that with David?” I asked.

  “Pfft. All the time.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “What if—”

  “Stop it! You’re meant for this line of work. Nothing will happen. It’s a public place and I’ll be right there.”

  “How are you supposed to protect me?” I asked, indicating her belly.

  “Ah, together we’ll be okay.”

  “Yeah, the postpartum detective and her prenatal side-kick.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Redirected

  To Do:

  1. ?

  2. Catch up on e-mails.

  3. . Find maid/nanny.

  4. Laurie swim classes?—Yes—sign up.

  5. Order girdle thing.

  I watched from across the street as Paula entered the café. Only the tables in the window were visible. She disappeared; presumably she was at the counter ordering.

  I pulled out my cell phone and retrieved the messages I had ignored earlier: one from Mom, one from Paula, and one from Margaret. Mom had called as she was getting ready to board her flight to Mexico:

  “Darling! When I was in Napa today at Cakebread Cellars, I talked Albert into being your mentor and letting you use his license. My flight is boarding now but I’ll be home in a few days. Call you then. Love you! Kisses to Laurie and Jim.”

  I closed my eyes.

  What did I feel? Relief? Betrayal?

  I was extremely relieved Mom had gotten on her flight and missed Jim’s call about Laurie and me. But at the same time I felt like I was betraying her. If she knew about the hospital, she’d tell Albert Galigani to forget sponsoring me.

  But if I had his sponsorship, Jim would let me continue on the case . . .

  Paula’s message:

  “Girl! I am home! Paris was trčs magnifique but I’m happy to be back. What are you doing tomorrow?”