A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  Please God, don’t let me die this way.

  I tried to push Galigani’s huge mass off me. He weighed a ton, but I had a tiny infant to live for. I heaved against him with all my might. My forgotten ab muscles were screaming out, as if to say: “Sure! You don’t work us for nine months and now you want action?”

  Tires screeched and ground into the cement.

  My heart was in my throat. The truck had stopped inches from me.

  I took as deep a breath as I could, with Galigani on top of me.

  I tried again to push him off me. I could see boots approaching. Two pairs.

  The men in the boots rolled Galigani off me. I gasped for air. One gave Galigani CPR. The other bent over me. I tried to get up. He restrained my shoulders with his hands.

  “Lie still, ma’am,” he said, hovering over me. His breath smelled like mint. His brown eyes searched my face.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Even so, just give me a minute.” He wrapped his fingers under my head and gave me a gentle head massage. “Just looking for any abnormalities.”

  “I’ve often thought my head should be examined for abnormalities.”

  He smiled. “From the fall. You don’t seem to have any.”

  I refrained from telling him where I’d landed, lest he want to check my ass for any abnormalities. He helped me to my feet. I glanced over at Galigani. No blood. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. What could have happened?

  Another car approached.

  A police cruiser.

  Inspector McNearny lurched out of the car and approached the firefighter who’d been helping me. They discussed something in hushed tones. The other firefighter continued to give Galigani CPR.

  I stepped forward to see how Galigani was progressing and hell, I’ll admit it, to try and eavesdrop on McNearny. My foot kicked something on the ground.

  Galigani’s notebook!

  Without taking my eyes off McNearny, I quickly scooped it up and slipped it into my back pocket.

  After a moment, McNearny broke away and approached me.

  “What a coincidence,” I said in my best sarcastic tone.

  “No coincidence, Mrs. Connolly. I already told you I don’t believe in those. I requested the dispatch office alert me regarding any calls from your residence, especially after your 9-1-1 fiasco the other night. You remember, your husband broke into his own house.”

  Jerk.

  “How nice. I feel much safer now.” I smiled my best smart-ass smile.

  He indicated the abandoned broom, which now lay near the front tires of Galigani’s Honda. “What happened? Did you sweep him to death?”

  “I found his car parked here. He was slumped over the steering wheel. The broom was to assist me with the rescue attempt.”

  McNearny glared at me. “How?”

  “I thought I might have to break a window to get him out of the car.”

  “Do you know him? Is he your friend, too?”

  I bit my lip. I felt a lie bubbling up. What good would it do? When had I become a liar anyway?

  “He’s a PI. His name’s Galigani.”

  “He’s my friend,” McNearny said, his eyes settling onto mine. The animosity between us seemed to dissipate.

  An ambulance arrived. The firefighters put Galigani onto a stretcher.

  “Is he alive?” I asked.

  “Barely,” one paramedic responded.

  We watched the ambulance screech off, sirens screaming.

  “Former cop,” McNearny said. “He was my first partner when I joined the force fourteen years ago. I need to follow them to the hospital. Try and stay out of trouble.”

  <><><>

  As soon as Mom left, I lay down on the couch and snuggled Laurie, her little breaths warming my arm. I rubbed her tummy and she made a soft “ah” sound.

  My thoughts drifted to Galigani. Was this an attempt at murder? Would he survive? I felt chilled and scared. I double-checked the locks on the doors and windows and returned to my position on the couch, bringing along a throw blanket.

  Then I picked up his notebook and devoured it.

  • Brad Avery, recovered pier 23 on Sept 19. Body decomposed, coroner puts date of death on or around June 15. Cause of death, bullet wound to the head. 9mm Luger. Survived by G. Avery (mother), S. Avery (ex-wife), and M. Avery (wife).

  • Last seen by M. Avery June 15. On the record, reported fight with B. Avery, due to extramarital affair. Unable to locate party who’d been having an affair with B. Avery.

  • G. Connolly bags recovered on Sept 19 at pier 23. Last known address—1482 Rivera (March 9), evicted by Sheriff for wielding chainsaw at property owner Roger Connolly. Unable to locate G. Connolly. Connection to B. Avery?

  • M. Avery found dead on October 3, by K. Connolly (high school friend). Appears to have alibi for June 15. No apparent motive.

  • M. Avery survived by KelliAnn Dupree (half sister) last known address—1878 Haight Street, Apt 304. Cause of death, overdose of diazepam in combination with alcohol. Suicide?

  • Interview scheduled October 8: Kiku Ajari 1:00 pm.

  Tucked in the back of his notebook was a list of possible gun manufacturers that matched the rifling on the 9mm luger bullet recovered. I examined the list. The only manufacturers I had heard of were Berretta and Smith and Wesson. I’d need to ask Jim about it. Growing up with a father from Montana who’d introduced Jim to hunting, he understood more about guns than I did.

  I reread Galigani’s notes. George had threatened Uncle Roger. With a chainsaw no less! That’s why Roger had finally kicked him out. It was also probably the reason he hadn’t come to Jim and me. If George had become violent with Roger, then certainly killing Brad would be in the realm of possibility.

  What about Michelle? Suicide? Not likely. She confided to me she had been scared, worried that whoever killed Brad might come after her. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? Unless she killed Brad and said it to cover her guilt. Then ended up killing herself because the guilt was too great? Could she have accidentally overdosed? Maybe KelliAnn could shed light on this.

  I reflected on KelliAnn’s address. She lived in the building on Haight Street I’d first followed Galigani to. I thought he’d gone to see Jennifer in Apartment 303, but I was wrong. He had been going there to see KelliAnn. Was it a coincidence that hippie chick Jennifer had worked at El Paraiso?

  Laurie stirred next to me, stretching her arms over her head like a kitten. I nuzzled her and she settled back to sleep.

  My thoughts returned to Michelle. If she had been poisoned, could Galigani have been poisoned, too? Had someone tried to kill him right in front of my house?

  Who was Kiku?

  The interview was in a couple days. Could I go in Galigani’s place?

  •CHAPTER THIRTEEN•

  The Fourth Week—Exploring

  When I awoke the next morning, the space next to me was cold and empty. I could hear water running in the shower. I peered over at Laurie in her bassinet. She was asleep for the moment.

  I slipped out of bed and grabbed the phone. I dialed San Francisco General Hospital and inquired about Galigani. They told me that after he’d been stabilized, they’d transferred him to California Pacific Hospital.

  They wouldn’t tell me anything more about his condition, since I wasn’t family.

  I had to take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment today. The pediatrician’s office was right next to California Pacific.

  Perfect.

  I’d stop by and see how Galigani was progressing.

  I pulled my notebook out and wrote my to-do list for the day.

  To Do:

  1. Take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment.

  2. Visit Galigani in the hospital, find out what happened to him.

  3. Find George.

  4. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).

  5. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.

  6. Read the parenting book from libra
ry.

  7. Find the parenting book from the library.

  8. Oh yeah, diet, exercise, clean car, be good mom/ wife, cook, clean, and all that jazz.

  I sat and sat in the waiting room. I really liked Laurie’s pediatrician, Dr. Clement, but I’d never waited so long for any doctor. Every visit to this office, I had waited at least forty-five minutes. Laurie had already been to the doctor three times in the first month. Twice the first week and once the second week.

  At our first appointment, when Laurie was two days old, I had cried because she was losing weight. Dr. Clement told me that it was perfectly normal, but maternal hormones don’t listen to any doctor’s logic and tears had been shed.

  Was Dr. Clement worth the wait?

  I watched two children with running noses coo over Laurie.

  How does one extract one’s baby from runny-nosed little children without seeming rude? I guess you can’t help it if you seem rude. After all, this is your newborn.

  I pulled Laurie’s car seat bucket out of reach of the children. One scowled at me and screamed “Mama!” at the top of her lungs. Her mother glanced up from the fashion magazine in her lap, mumbled something, then continued to read.

  Both children found solace in the fish tank in the corner.

  As I looked at my watch for the millionth time, Laurie’s name was called.

  I followed the nurse down a short hallway and into a freezing examination room. “Go ahead and undress her. Everything except the diaper,” she instructed.

  “It’s an icebox in here.”

  “It’ll only be for a second,” she snapped.

  Maybe I should consider another doctor?

  Dr. Clement flew into the room. She was short and stocky with huge hands. I’d liked her from the beginning, thinking she’d never drop a baby with such secure-looking hands.

  She stretched Laurie out on the examination table and put little pencil marks at her head and feet, then scooped her into what looked like a fish scale. After balancing all the doo-dads on the scale, she wrapped a tape measure around Laurie’s head. She announced that Laurie was in the twenty-fifth percentile. Meaning that Laurie was “petite but perfectly healthy.”

  Apparently, out of 100 babies Laurie’s age, 75 babies were bigger than she was. The doctor explained that Laurie was in proportion and gaining weight nicely, so not to worry. Easier said than done.

  Dr. Clement was about to disappear, but then with her hand on the doorknob she turned and asked, “How’s tummy time going?”

  “Tummy time?”

  “I told you at the hospital that you have to put her on her tummy for at least an hour every day.”

  Who remembers anything that happened a month ago?

  “She’s not even awake for a full hour,” I said desperately.

  “You have to do it in ten-minute increments. Ten minutes here, ten minutes there, it adds up.” She wagged a finger at me. “Remember, tummy time is going to give Laurie the skills she needs for rolling over, sitting, and crawling.”

  I suddenly felt anxious. I was blowing it for Laurie! Could she already be behind at only four weeks old?

  I nodded at Dr. Clement, who nodded back at me as she strode out the door.

  I looked at my watch. All of two minutes had passed, most of it spent lecturing me. If she spent only two minutes with each patient, what in the world had she been doing when I’d been sitting in the waiting room for forty-five minutes?

  Before Laurie was born, I spent a good deal of time interviewing pediatricians. I had liked Dr. Clement the best. She had taken her time during the process and had patiently explained the first steps I’d take with Laurie. Now I wondered if all the time I’d spent in her waiting room, she’d been recruiting new patients instead of tending to existing ones.

  At least we didn’t have to come back for another month. It would be nice to have a month off from doctor’s visits. Except, of course, for my own. I still had to schedule that one. I knew I was avoiding it because I didn’t want to go back to work. I pulled out my to-do list and added “tummy time” and the ob-gyn appointment.

  <><><>

  From the pediatrician’s office, I headed across the street to the hospital. I hated bringing Laurie into the hospital but rationalized that it wasn’t much different from Dr. Clement’s office.

  I asked about Galigani at the front desk and was directed to the cardiology department.

  Cardiology?

  Not poisoned!

  No one had tried to murder Galigani. Relief washed over me. Definitely reassuring, especially if I was going to consider poking my nose around some more in Brad’s affairs.

  When Laurie and I arrived at his room, he was propped up in bed, connected to several flashing beeping monitors at his chest, oxygen tubes in his nose, and a remote in his hand. What is it with men and remotes? He was watching Fear Factor.

  Ah. Daytime TV.

  “What, no Days of our Lives?” I asked, gently tapping on the room door.

  Galigani’s face lit up. “Come in.”

  He put the TV on mute! I tried not to be offended. After all, if I wasn’t captivating enough, even during labor, for my own husband, I couldn’t expect a perfect stranger to turn the TV off.

  I shuffled Laurie’s bucket onto a chair.

  “Let me see her,” Galigani said.

  I tilted the bucket up to show off a sleeping Laurie, who managed to pry one blue eye open and peer at Galigani.

  “Adorable. Thank you. Makes me feel better to see such a sweet face.” He paused, taking inventory of the monitors around him. “Had a heart attack. They said the person who dialed 9-1-1 saved my life.” His eyes shone. “I think a ‘thank-you’ is in order.”

  Laurie cooed and kicked as if to say, “You’re welcome.”

  “They’re not going to release me quite yet. I have to have open heart surgery. Bypass. Not out of the woods yet.”

  “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

  “I’m on my own.”

  Where was his family?

  I nodded. “When’s the surgery?”

  “Scheduled for tomorrow.”

  I patted his hand in reassurance. “You’re going to be fine.” I dug out Galigani’s notebook from the ever-present diaper bag and placed it on his nightstand. “This belongs to you. It fell out of your car yesterday.”

  His eyes lingered on the notebook. “Doc says I need to slow down. No more tracking down murderers.”

  “You’re dropping the case?”

  “Yep. Got to. Doctor’s orders.”

  “Is there someone in your office who’ll take over?”

  His mustache twisted up. “I work alone. Partners aren’t what they’re cracked up to be.”

  McNearny had been his partner. What had happened between them?

  “I went by your house yesterday to tell you I’d found your brother-in-law.”

  “You did!”

  Galigani laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised, okay? I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  “Sorry. How is he? Where is he?”

  “Alive and kicking. I found him at Pier 23. Claims he was with Michelle Avery on the night Brad was killed.”

  “Yeah. She told me the same thing.”

  Now it was Galigani’s turn to be surprised. “Really?” He waged a finger at me. “You didn’t say anything to the police about that.”

  I smiled. “How do you know what I said and didn’t say to the police?”

  His eyes twinkled at me. “Been doing this a long time.”

  Laurie fussed. I moved the car seat to the floor and seated myself on the chair, then rocked the bucket with my foot. The rocking assuaged Laurie. She began exploring her hands as though she’d never seen them before. “I didn’t say anything about George because . . .” I took a deep breath.

  How could I explain the impulse to protect George?

  “Let me guess.” Galigani said. “Your husband and his brother don’t really get along. George is a problem for the fa
mily, probably has been his entire adult life. Hasn’t ever held a real job, was on the streets for a while. Has a history of threatening people, although he’s never really taken any action on it. Probably asks for a lot of favors, borrows a lot of money, never repays anything, burns a lot of bridges. Stop me if I’m getting any of this wrong.”

  “You know all this because you’ve been doing this a long time?”

  “That and I ran a background check. Anyway, you and your husband didn’t say anything to the police because deep down he still loves his brother, and you, of course, love your husband and everyone is in denial that he could be a murderer.”

  The small room seemed to close in on me, and what I’d intended as a question came out as a statement. “You think George killed Brad.”

  “Not really. I don’t have a motive. Do you?”

  I shook my head helplessly. “No.”

  “My money’s on the girl. The supposed affair.”

  “You think Michelle lied about that?”

  “No. I’ve had several people tell me it’s true, but no one’s coughing up any names.”

  “What about Kiku, who’s she?”

  Galigani’s eyes flashed surprised, then amusement. “Why, Mrs. Connolly, don’t you know?”

  I shrugged. “The supposed other woman?”

  Galigani blinked up at me. “Maybe you should go talk to her.”

  “Why would I—”

  Galigani interrupted me by clearing his throat. I stared at him, silent. He tugged at his blanket. “I haven’t got around to telling Gloria Avery that I’m dropping the case.”

  I continued to watch him, not daring to speak. He pressed the palms of his hands together and studied me.

  After a moment I squeaked, “I can tell her.”

  Galigani nodded his head slowly and smiled.

  <><><>

  As Laurie and I drove to the Sea Cliff, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in San Francisco, I daydreamed of Mrs. Avery hiring me as Galigani’s replacement. It could be my first official case. I could launch my own business, not have to return to my corporate nightmare, work from home, and be with Laurie.