Motherhood is Murder

by Diana Orgain

  “In the kitchen.” I laced up the shoe.

  Hmmm. It was comfortable.

  “Where are Jim and Laurie?” Mom called as she disappeared to the kitchen.

  “Jim went for a run. Laurie’s in the nursery.”

  Mom reappeared in the living room and placed her cup on the coffee table. She grabbed the maracas and headed to the nursery singing a goofy made-up song and shaking the maracas like crazy.

  “Mom, you’re going to wake her.”

  I heard Laurie let out a loud scream that escalated to a pitch that could break crystal. I ran into the nursery with my Converse on my feet.

  Hey, I ran fast in these shoes.

  Mom had Laurie in her arms. “I don’t know why she doesn’t like the maracas. She’s going to be just like her mommy—difficult to shop for.”

  We decided to bathe Laurie as I filled Mom in on the last few days. I told her about Celia being hospitalized but left out the part about me and Laurie.

  As I put warm water in the baby tub, Mom undressed Laurie. She placed her in the tub and poured a few cupfuls of water over her. Laurie cooed from pure enjoyment. I pulled out the Magic Moments cradle cap cream.

  Mom frowned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s special cream so she doesn’t get cradle cap.”

  Mom examined Laurie’s head. “She doesn’t have cradle cap.”

  “I know. I’ve been using this stuff. Smell.” I stuck the bottle under Mom’s nose.

  Mom crinkled her nose. “You don’t need special cream, just use soap and water. That’s what I did with you and your brother.”

  “That’s because they didn’t have Magic Moments when I was a baby,” I taunted her.

  “How much did you pay for that?”

  “Too much probably, and it wasn’t a two-for sale,” I said.

  Mom laughed at me. “You were had!”

  The phone rang, interrupting us. I left Mom to bathe Laurie and answered the call.

  “Kate? This is Mandy from Gary Barramendi’s office.”

  I snapped to attention. “Yes! Hi. Um, uh . . . I mean, hello!”

  “Gary would like the daily report. I’ll transfer you now.”

  Daily report?

  Oh no! I had forgotten. What was I supposed to tell him?

  I cleared my throat, hoping to sound professional and not like I’d just been bathing my infant and arguing with my mother.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Connolly. Any news?” Gary asked.

  “Good morning.” Good, my voice sounded fine—intelligent even! “Yes. I interviewed Celia yesterday.”

  There! I did have something to report!

  “Interview? I thought you were going to stake her out.”

  Shoot!

  “Uh . . .”

  “Anything relevant?” he probed.

  What could I tell him about? The stakeout and interview had been a complete dud?

  Before I could think of an answer, Gary said, “That’s my other line, I have to take it. I’ll look forward to reading the transcript.”

  “Transcript?” I squawked.

  “You do tape your interviews, don’t you?”

  I was supposed to tape them?

  “Uh . . . no . . . I mean . . . yes. Of course. Just not this one. I had a problem with my . . . device.”

  “It happens. Okay, type up a summary and fax it to Mandy.”

  I hung up as the front door squeaked open.

  Jim appeared, dripping from his run. “Look at what the cat dragged in,” he said.

  Paula trailed him. “Looks more like you’ve been dragged. What happened to you?” she teased.

  Jim laughed, greeted Mom, then kissed me. “I’m jumping in the shower.”

  Mom stopped him. “Wait! Look at what I brought back for you!”

  She handed a towel-wrapped Laurie to me and proceeded to put on the poncho. She threw the mariachi hat onto the floor and sang the tune to the “Mexican Hat Dance.”

  Paula laughed hysterically watching Mom dance around in the red Converse and poncho.

  Jim looked concerned. “Is that safe?”

  Mom frowned. “What’s unsafe about it?”

  Paula pointed to my feet, still clad in the Converse, and giggled. Jim simply shook his head.

  “I love the ‘Mexican Hat Dance,’ ” Paula said.

  “The ‘Jarabe Tapatío’!” Mom exclaimed with the worst Spanish accent imaginable. “How was Paris?”

  As they caught up with each other, Jim showered and I got Laurie dressed. When I’d finished, I joined them in the living room and brought Paula up to speed on my interview with Celia.

  “Was Celia on that cruise?” Paula asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “If she’s not a suspect for killing Helene, why didn’t you just ask her if she’s seeing Alan?” Paula asked. “If I was dating a married man who was suspected of murder, I’d want to know.”

  Mom rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “People don’t generally tell the truth about affairs, though. Do they? Especially to someone she knows is friendly with the wife. No. If she’s in love with him, then she’ll protect him.”

  “Not if he poisoned her,” Paula said.

  “We don’t know that, and even still,” Mom said, “maybe they’re working together. Maybe she allowed the podiatrist to give her a little something to knock her out but not kill her. If he’s a doctor, he would know about dosages and the like.”

  I sat to attention.

  Paula shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

  “Is it?” I asked.

  I hadn’t considered that option. Could Celia and Alan be working together? Or Celia and Bruce, for that matter?

  “You should just ask her about Alan,” Paula insisted.

  I shook my head. “She knows I’m working for Margaret. She knows I would report it to her.”

  We sat in silence for a moment.

  Suddenly Paula said, “I could ask her. I’ll go to her midwife center and pretend I’m looking for a midwife. She won’t suspect me of being connected to you.”

  Mom jumped up. “And I can see the podiatrist! He can look at my bunions!”

  Paula leapt up. She and Mom sprang into a spontaneous rendition of the “Jarabe Tapatío.” I turned Laurie on my lap so she was sitting up and facing them. She let out a little giggle and pedaled her feet as though she wanted to dance, too.

  I watched them dance with more verve than a sixty-year-old woman with bunions and seven-months-pregnant woman should have.

  When they’d finished, I said, “Even though I think you two should really get out a bit more, I can’t let you do this.”

  “What?” Mom exclaimed. “Why not? We’re the perfect undercover team! No one will suspect a thing!”

  “You have no training or experience,” I said.

  This comment launched them into hysterics. Paula could barely breathe as she grabbed my copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide and waved it around, making Mom double over and gasp for air.

  Jim appeared, freshly showered and looking relaxed. “If there’s going to be more singing and dancing here, I’ll have to leave immediately,” he said.

  “Don’t worry!” Paula patted his shoulder. “Mom and I are on a mission. We’ll be out of here shortly!”

  I pressed the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure about this, guys?”

  Mom and Paula nodded emphatically. Jim simply looked from one to the other then back at me.

  “You both have good pretexts. I learned that this morning,” I said, pointing to the book Paula still had in her hand.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Mom said, “but don’t worry, darling, we’ll do it for free.”

  “Don’t you have to get back to Danny?” I asked Paula.

  “My in-laws took Danny to the lake cabin last night and David’s at work. So, I have nothing better to do.”

  “If you’re bored, you can always stay here and do laundry,” I said.

  Paula and Mom both shook their heads.

  “All right,” I said reluctantly. “Honey, can you run down to Radio Shack for us? I need you to buy some stuff for a tap.”

  “A what?” Jim asked.
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  “Gary wants all my interviews to be recorded and this book I’m reading has a chapter on how to do it.”

  “I can record mine on my phone! It’s got a cool voice recording feature,” Paula said.

  “No. You can’t do that. What are you going to do?” I imitated Paula voice: “Celia, tell me if you’re having an affair with Alan. Clunk.” I pantomimed putting down the phone on the table. “Pretty conspicuous.”

  “I wouldn’t do it like that,” Paula said.

  “I thought you couldn’t record anybody without their permission. It’s illegal,” Jim said.

  “Technically yes, that’s true. But I’m not going to submit it as evidence or anything. If we get any information relevant to the case, then Gary would have to depose them.”

  “Depose, ooh. You’re using fancy words now,” Paula said.

  “Can you tell I’ve been studying? Anyway, I just want to feel like I was there or you two will end up having to repeat the entire conversation for me and it’s very likely we could miss something.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready to be wired!” Mom said.

  Jim patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Mom, you already are.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Preparation

  We sent Jim with a list of items to our neighborhood Radio Shack. Then Mom proceeded to dial Dr. Alan Lipe’s office looking for an appointment. I warned her that he was booked up for a month and I’d only gotten my appointment because of a cancellation. She ignored me and dialed.

  Paula, wanting to appear convincing, was at my computer researching midwives and the benefits of home births. With my primary PI tools in use, the computer and the phone, I reclined on the couch with Laurie in one arm and the Idiot’s Guide in the other. As soon as I began to read, my doorbell rang.

  I put Laurie in her bouncy chair and answered the door. It was Galigani.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked, motioning him inside.

  “I got your e-mail. I figured I could help you set up some accounts and . . .” He spotted Mom and Paula. “I didn’t know you were having a party—”

  Mom hung up and practically bounded over in her Converse. “Albert!”

  He gave her a warm hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “How was your cruise, Vera?” he asked Mom.

  As far as I knew, Mom had told him that she was going with friends and I cringed to see how she would answer, but fortunately for Mom, Paula saved her by joining us and introducing herself.

  Laurie began to cry from the bouncy chair.

  “She’s hungry.” I picked her and headed to the bedroom to nurse her. Paula and Mom stayed in the living room with Galigani and filled him in.

  By the time I’d finished with Laurie and laid her down for a nap, Jim had returned with the purchases. In addition to getting all the items on the list, he bought Laurie a stuffed purple puppy that had an imbedded digital recorder. He placed it next to Laurie in the crib to record her cute little coos.

  Galigani assisted me with setting up the devices we were going to use for Paula and Mom. The microphones were just slightly bigger then a memory card and the receiver/ recorder part was about the size and shape of a cell phone. I tested all the parts, and for fun recorded myself giving a grave warning to Paula.

  My voice came out of the device. “Paula, can you hear me? Do NOT get caught. This is serious business and I’m depending on you to get the secrets of the universe and report back to me.”

  Paula listened to the recording, blowing air into each cheek alternately and frowning. When the recorder clicked off, Paula’s face relaxed and she smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”

  We secured the equipment to the inside of Paula’s maternity blouse and instructed her to go to the garden and tape a conversation with Jim. Satisfied with our testing, we sent Paula and Mom out into the field. Paula was going to drop in on Celia and Mom had scored an appointment with her general doctor. She was planning on getting a real referral to Alan’s practice in the hopes that she might actually get her bunion problem taken care of.

  After Mom and Paula left, Galigani helped me learn the ropes on background checks and grilled me a bit over my meeting with Gary. I shared with him the transcript of the interview from Gary and Bruce’s meeting with Inspectors McNearny and Jones.

  Galigani perused the report. “Does Mac know you’re still working on this case?”

  McNearny and Galigani had been partners years ago. From comments Galigani made occasionally, I was never sure how close or not they actually were.

  I recapped my meetings with McNearny.

  Galigani scratched his head. “He said it was okay for you to follow Alan?”

  I nodded.

  Galigani sighed. “Then it’s a waste of time for your mom and Paula to pursue him.”

  “Why?”

  “If Mac didn’t mind you investigating him, then he’s not the guy. They have information we don’t have. Remember they talked to all the people on the boat that night. No. They’re looking into someone else.”

  Around 3 P.M., directly after I had nursed Laurie and put her down for a nap, Paula returned from Celia’s.

  We made tea and camped out in my kitchen nook.

  We put the recorder on the table between us and pressed Play. Paula’s voice came on:

  Paula: Okay I’m in the car outside of Celia’s center. Testing 123.

  The recorder clicked.

  Paula: All right. I just played my test and it worked. I hope I don’t botch things.

  Sounds of Paula getting out of the car. The car door slams.

  Paula: I’m walking toward the entrance. I’m going to shut up now so she doesn’t think I’m some weirdo who talks to herself.

  Sounds of a door opening.

  Paula: Hello?

  Celia: Oh hi. Can I help you?

  Sounds of shuffling.

  “We can fast-forward a bit. This part’s all small talk,” Paula said.

  I nodded. Paula pressed the forward button on the recorder and held it down for several seconds. When she released it, the recording continued.

  Celia: Are you interested in a home birth?

  Paula: Yeah. I had my son at the hospital and I’d like to try—

  Celia: Did you have a bad experience?

  Paula: No. Not really. Just, you know, I don’t really like hospitals.

  Celia: Most healthy people don’t. That’s one of the benefits of the home births. There’s less stress and fear in a home.

  Paula: Do you . . . I mean would you do it at my house?

  Celia: Whatever you’re comfortable with. This can be your home away from home. A lot of people prefer the center, and remember, not everyone who wants a home birth has a home. This center is for everyone. Would you like to see the birthing room?

  Paula: Uh . . . no.

  I raised an eyebrow at Paula. She paused the tape.

  “Why didn’t you go look at the room?” I asked.

  “For what? I’m not actually going to have my baby there, you know. Not even for you.”

  I laughed. “Still. You could have checked it out. It’s actually kind of nice.”

  Paula giggled. “I knew that would kill you. You can’t stand the thought that I had an opportunity to poke around and didn’t.”

  “Well, you have to be sort of convincing. I mean, you’re there on the pretext of wanting to hire a midwife and then you don’t even look at the facility.”

  Paula waved her hand. “Ah, no big deal. She gave me this and I oohed and aahed at all the right places.”

  She pulled a glossy brochure from her purse. It contained several pictures of the birthing room, complete with a birth tub and balls.

  “Did you ask her about her boyfriend?” I asked.

  Paula nodded and pressed the Play button on the recorder.

  Paula: How long have you been doing this?

  Celia: Almost three years.

  Paula: Are you certified?

  Celia: Of course.

  I sipped my tea. “You asked her for certification?”

  Paula nodded. “Yeah. I was trying to get a gro
ove on her. She gave me enough rubbish on the benefits of home births and births in a ‘home away from home’ to make me think she was legit.”

  She fidgeted with the recorder and the playback resumed.

  Paula: So are you a nurse?

  Celia: I was. Yes. In Miami. An ob-gyn nurse. Then I decided to go into business for myself and really focus on what I love. You know if you just give your dreams a chance, it can change your life. You’re dreaming of having your baby without all the trappings of the hospital. I can help you.

  When are you due? Who’s your doctor now?

  Paula: Uh. In March. Dr. Reynolds.

  Celia: Do you have her number?

  Paula: What?

  Celia: I can call your doctor and begin the process to find out if you’re a good candidate for home birth—

  Paula: Oh no. I mean, I have to think about it. You know, talk to my husband. You know how men are. Are you married?

  Celia: No.

  Paula: You have a boyfriend?

  Celia: Not at the moment.

  Silence.

  I raised an eyebrow. Paula held up her hand, indicating for me to wait.

  Celia: I was seeing someone, but well . . . things got complicated.

  Paula: I’m sorry. Affairs of the heart can be complicated. Was it recent?

  Celia: Yes. Very.

  Paula: My toughest breakup was this married guy I was seeing. It wasn’t one of those, was it?

  Celia: Actually . . .

  Paula: Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stand being second. Well, he would tell me I was first, but he wouldn’t leave her—

  Celia: Yes. That’s it. We broke it off because he won’t leave her.

  Paula: Don’t worry—there’s plenty of Tom, Dick, and Alans out there.

  I laughed.

  Paula stopped the tape. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Wait! What was her reaction when you mentioned Alan?”

  “Nothing. She just kind of looked sad and shrugged. The rest of the tape is her persuading me to leave my OB and become her client. You know, having a home birth gives you maximum control over your birth experience, blah blah. You can listen to it later; hearing the sales pitch once was enough for me.”

  “Tell me how you really feel about it.”

  Paula laughed. “Well, I got her to say she was with a married guy. But not who. I didn’t know how to get that part without downright asking her—are you seeing a podiatrist name Alan?”