by Tracy Weber
Summer stepped out of striking range, still clearly skeptical. I wanted to assure her that Bella would never bite, but the truth was, I couldn’t. Bella hadn’t used her teeth on a human so far, but any dog would bite given sufficient provocation. Especially if people acted afraid of them.
Time for a little distraction. “Mind if we walk?”
I followed the winding trail back up the hill, Summer and Bella both panting heavily behind me. We sat on a relatively goose-dung-free spot and I stalled for time by digging through my handbag, pretending to search for a chew toy for Bella. I still hadn’t come up with a good strategy for questioning Summer, so I decided to stick with the truth. Sort of.
I flipped my hands back and forth to show Bella they were empty. “Sorry, girl. No treats.” Bella sneezed in frustration, then lay down and rested her head between her paws. Dreaming of goose poop pâté, no doubt.
I massaged her neck and spoke to Summer. “I’m still exhausted from Miracle’s birth. How do you do it?”
She shrugged. “Believe me, it’s not easy. The hardest part is the unpredictability. Babies come when they want to come. They don’t care if their mom’s doula hasn’t slept in twenty-six hours, if she has concert tickets, or if she’s come down with food poisoning. Sometimes I think the little buggers mess with my life on purpose. Their first practical joke.” She grinned. “Still, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Nothing’s better than helping bring babies into this world. Nothing.”
“I’m a little nervous about attending a birth by myself, and I’ll have to do it soon. Rene’s at thirty-four weeks. We’re meeting to discuss her birth plan on Saturday.”
“That late?” Summer chided. “I thought your friend was having twins.”
“She is.”
“Then you should’ve met weeks ago. Twins are usually early.”
“I know, but Rene’s superstitious. First she refused to talk about the birth until she was far enough along to deliver safely, then she insisted on waiting until Lake Washington Medical Center’s new birthing center opened. She won’t even pack a suitcase. She claims the girls will crawl out of her va—” I stopped, reconsidering my words. Summer might not appreciate Rene’s warped sense of humor. “She thinks she’ll go into labor as soon as the twins hear us planning their birth.”
Summer scowled. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree, but there’s no convincing her. Believe me, I tried. She said she’d only talk to me before this weekend if I sewed her lady parts shut. Anyway, she’s ready now, and I want to seem professional. I have that list of questions you handed out in class, but I’m not sure what to do with them. How much do I guide her in the answers?”
“You don’t guide her at all. Once we’ve accepted a client, our role is to help them figure out what they want, not tell them what we think is best.”
“Even if we think they’re making bad choices?”
“Yes, even then.” Summer picked a dandelion from the grass and idly twirled it between her fingers. “Which can be tough if you have strong opinions, like I do. That’s why I only take clients who want a natural childbirth. There’s no way I could keep my trap shut if a woman planned on having an epidural or, God forbid, an elective C-section. I prefer assisting with home births, though I work at ABBA when necessary. But I draw the line at hospital births. It’s a woman’s choice to have her baby wherever she wants to. It’s my choice whether or not to be part of it.”
I knew my next comment might torque Summer off, but she had provided the inroad I’d been hoping for.
“Aren’t hospital births safer?”
Summer flicked the dandelion to the ground. “For who? The doctor’s insurance company? Birthing babies is natural.” She pointed at Bella. “If that dog of yours were having puppies, would she want to be trapped in bed with a gazillion tubes poked into her? No way.”
“Maybe not, but if something goes wrong, a hospital is better equipped to deal with it. In fact, I had that very conversation with two of your prior clients today.”
Summer frowned. “Who would that be?”
“Kendra and Liam Delaney.”
Summer’s entire body tensed for a moment, then her shoulders sagged. “They still think that baby would have lived if they hadn’t been at ABBA?” She slowly shook her head. “I suppose they have to blame someone. It’s a coping mechanism.”
Bella groaned and flopped onto her side, closer to Summer. Summer scooted several inches away. “That baby’s death wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was an anomaly. A horrible, tragic anomaly. Being at a hospital wouldn’t have changed anything. Even the coroner said that.”
“The baby’s father thinks that the doctor was compromised.”
“Compromised? How?”
“Liam says he was drunk.”
Summer stared off to the side for a moment. “I only worked with Dr. Jones that one time, but he wasn’t drunk, just impatient. The labor was slow, and he was in an awful big hurry to get it going. Like the baby was holding him up from his golf game or something. Practically bullied Kendra into having Pitocin.”
“What was his rush?”
“Who knows? Using Pitocin’s not all that uncommon, actually. He was simply more vocal about it than most doctors. Slow or fast, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Which is exactly what I told the parents. Weird thing is, he got them to blame me.”
“You?”
“Crazy, isn’t it? He wanted me to strong-arm Kendra into going to a hospital for a C-section.” She scowled. “I wouldn’t do it. Kendra didn’t want a C-section, and he couldn’t give me a reason why it was medically necessary.”
“What did you do?”
“I told Kendra the truth: that it was her decision, but it wasn’t part of her birth plan. I also told her to make sure that she understood the risks of a surgical birth before agreeing to one. Dr. Jones clearly didn’t make his case. Still, our disagreement gave him a reason to throw me under the bus when the parents started talking lawsuit. He claimed Kendra would have gone to the hospital but I talked her out of it. Ridiculous.”
I thought back to Miracle’s birth and how Summer had chastised Nurse Tamara for offering Rhonda an epidural. I had a feeling she was underestimating her influence on Kendra—and the heat of her confrontation with Dr. Dick. Biases were tricky that way. In a sense, Summer was color blind. She could only see what her mind allowed her to see.
“Could they really have sued you? You were the doula, not the nurse or doctor.”
“Honey, we live in the USA. You can sue anyone. It would’ve been hard to make it stick, since I don’t make any medical decisions. I think Dr. Jones was hoping that if the parents got mad enough at me, they’d forget about him.”
“What happened? With the lawsuit, I mean.” I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear Summer’s version of the story.
“It ended in a settlement, thank goodness. The doctor’s malpractice insurance covered most of it. Mine paid the rest. Then we all moved on with our lives. Some better than others, I guess.”
I listened for bitterness in Summer’s tone, but I couldn’t find any. She was clearly over any anger she once felt.
Or very good at hiding it.
“You know Dr. Jones was killed on Saturday, don’t you?” I asked.
“How could I not? It’s been all over the news. He was a jerk for trying to set me up, but I still feel bad for him. He didn’t deserve to be murdered.”
I pretended to think for a minute. “The baby’s father was at the hospital on Saturday.”
Summer didn’t reply.
“He still seems pretty angry,” I continued. “And not just at Dr. Jones. At you, too.”
Summer gave me a questioning look. “What are you getting at, Kate?”
“Aren’t you worried? If Liam killed Dr. Jones, you might be in danger, too.”
Summer l
eaned over, picked another dandelion, and pulled off teeny, tiny petals one by one, as if playing a new childhood game: He hates me. He hates me not.
When less than half of the petals remained, she spoke. “I’m not in any danger, Kate. I was named in the lawsuit, but the doctor was Liam’s real target. Besides, Liam’s not the killer. I heard on the radio that the police arrested Dr. Jones’s wife.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Rachel killed him.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s a friend of sorts. I can’t believe she’d commit murder. You’ve met her, too. I introduced you to her at the party.”
“That nurse from the hospital? Huh. She’s a lot more attractive than I’d imagined,” Summer said slowly. “Dr. Jones always described her as sort of mousey.”
Nerve endings tingled up and down my spine. “I thought you only worked with him once.”
“That’s true, but the birthing industry is like a small town. People gossip. Especially about cheaters.”
I pretended to be surprised. “Dr. Jones cheated on his wife?”
“Yes, at least twice that I know of. Remember Tamara, the first nurse at Miracle’s birth?”
I nodded, trying not to seem excited. The conversation, for once, was going exactly as I’d hoped.
“She and Dr. Jones were an item when she was an IVF nurse at Reproductive Associates.”
Tamara had worked with Dr. Dick? And they’d had an affair? No wonder she got upset when she saw him making out with Mariella. I didn’t share my new insight with Summer, though. Instead, I asked, “If Tamara’s an IVF nurse, what’s she doing delivering babies at ABBA?”
Summer shrugged. “It’s not unusual. Lots of nurses change specialties. Anyway, Dr. Jones convinced Tamara that the baby’s death was my fault. That’s why she was so testy with me the other night. You’d think she’d be less cranky about it now that Dr. Jones dumped her for that tech at his clinic. Turns out she likes to hold a grudge.”
“Was he still having an affair with the tech when he died?” I asked. If the answer was yes, the tech Summer was talking about was probably Mariella. And I now knew where to find her: Reproductive Associates.
“Yes, and that little dalliance caused him some trouble. Tamara got so mad that she quit Reproductive Associates and filed a sexual harassment lawsuit.”
“Another lawsuit for him? That couldn’t have been pretty.”
Summer shrugged. “Like I said. USA. You can sue anyone.”
“Is that why Tamara started working for ABBA?”
“She’s doesn’t. Work for ABBA, that is. At least not technically. She’s employed by Sound Nursing, one of those contract nursing agencies. She temps at ABBA when they need extra help.”
I gave myself a mental high five. I now knew how to find Tamara, too. Through Sound Nursing.
A buzzing sound came from Summer’s pocket. She glanced at her cell phone. “Sorry, Kate. That was a text from one of my moms. She thinks she’s in early labor. We’re doing a home water birth, so I should stop by and make sure everything’s ready to go. You’ll do fine with your friend this weekend. If you have more questions, shoot me an email. For now, duty calls.”
She slowly pushed herself to her feet and lumbered down the hill.
I led Bella back to my car and drove home, feeling both victorious and frustrated. On the plus side, I’d gotten everything I’d wanted from my meeting, and for once without blowing my cover. I now knew how to find both Mariella and Tamara, provided neither of them had changed employers. I’d also heard Summer’s side of the stillbirth story. On the minus side, only two days into my sleuthing and I already had three new suspects to eliminate: Liam, Mariella, and now Nurse Tamara.
Make that four. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t eliminate Summer.
Summer didn’t strike me as a killer, but she might be good at hiding resentment. She had motive. Dr. Dick had tried to make her the scapegoat in a potentially career-ending lawsuit. The knife was in plain sight, so like everyone else at the hospital that day, she had means. And although I hadn’t tracked her movements at the party, I suspected she had opportunity, too.
Summer made her living helping bring life into the world.
Was she also capable of ending it?
Fourteen
I arrived home to a surprisingly clean kitchen and a take-out order of vegetarian Pad Thai from Fit to be Thai’d, my favorite Ballard restaurant. Michael had been too busy catching up on paperwork and spying on puppies to cook. In spite of his video-capturing protocol—or perhaps because of it—the little monsters hadn’t escaped from their crate once.
He kept me company in the kitchen while I slurped noodles covered in spicy peanut sauce. “Whatever the issue with the crate was, we must have fixed it,” he said. “Maybe I was more careless with the latches than I thought.”
“Maybe … ” I didn’t want to jinx today’s good luck, but Michael’s assumption seemed an awful lot like wishful thinking.
“Either way, I’m going back to work at the store tomorrow.”
“I have to work a full day tomorrow, too.” I glanced at the gold and black fur balls, who were curled up with Bella, twitching and snoring. Dreaming about their next adventure, no doubt. “Leaving them at home alone for a full day seems pretty risky.”
“I know, but we don’t have a choice. Tiffany’s been a champ this past week, but I can’t expect her to work without breaks forever. I’ll come home to check on them at lunch. Can you stop by in the afternoon?”
I mentally thought through my next day’s calendar. “I can take a break around three, but if we’re leaving them unattended, we need to lock Bella’s dog door, just in case.”
Michael stubbornly shook his head. “No. If we start locking it, Bella will never learn how to use it.”
I was feeling pretty stubborn myself. “We can’t risk it. If the puppies do manage to get out of their crate, they’ll hightail it straight for the yard and dig a hole under the fence again. They could run out into the street and get hit.”
Michael opened a drawer and pulled out a collar that was at least three sizes too big—for both puppies, combined. “That’s what this is for.”
“You’re going to make a noose and strangle them?”
He grinned. “No—this is the ultrasonic collar that came with Bella’s dog door. We’ll put it on her and activate it. Bella will be able to go in and out, but Mutt and Jeff won’t. That way, if they get out of their crate again, they’ll only destroy all of our earthly possessions.”
I wasn’t fond of the idea, but I didn’t have a better one, either. I agreed.
We cleaned up the dinner and relaxed in the living room. Michael opened a Guinness while I sipped on a home-brewed soy latte. I would have preferred a glass of Merlot, but I needed to be mentally astute for our upcoming conversation. I’d formulated a plan to “accidentally” run into Mariella, but it required Michael’s help. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
I cuddled against Michael’s chest and started with what I thought was a safe topic.
“Any news on the pups’ origins yet?”
Michael grumpily set his beer on the end table.“No, and I’m beginning to think that we’ll never know who dumped them. I’ve talked to all of the business owners on the block. The residents of the apartments, too. Tiffany grilled every customer. No one saw anything.”
“Did you ever talk to Momma Bird?”
“Nobody’s seen her lately. Have you?”
I shook my head no.
“Momma Bird must have dumped them,” Michael said. “Why else would she have disappeared?”
“She doesn’t work in Greenwood every day. Maybe she’s at another location.”
“Maybe. Then again, maybe she left town. I called Dollars for Change today to see if they knew how to contact her.”
“Yeah, for what good it did me. The woman who answered the phone wouldn’t tell me a thing. She said it was against company policy to share information about their vendors.”
I’d gotten the same answer when I was investigating George’s murder. Momma Bird had been my one willing source.
“So what now?” I asked.
Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out. Maybe I should go to the Dollars for Change office in person.”
“You can try, but it won’t do any good. You’d be better off giving up and looking for a new owner.”
Michael took a deep swig of his beer, but he didn’t reply. I decided to let the subject of rehoming the puppies go for the time being. I leaned away from his embrace, set my espresso cup on the end table, and turned to face him.
“Speaking of workplace visits, I have one you can help me with.”
I filled him in on my afternoon’s activities, starting with my conversation with Liam and ending with my meeting with Summer.
“That’s all interesting information, Kate, but what do you plan to do with it? The police know about Dr. Jones’s affair. From what you just told me, they already questioned the baby’s parents, so I assume they know about their lawsuit, too.” He shrugged. “I guess you could call Detective Martinez and make sure she has all of the relevant details … ”
“Not yet. She and Henderson are convinced that they have the right killer. I haven’t learned anything so far that will change their minds.”
“What else can you do?” Michael asked.
“Go back to my original plan.”
“Which was?”
“To question Mariella. Now that I know she works at Reproductive Associates, I can go there, look around, and ask her some questions.”
Michael drained the last of his beer. “What do you think she’ll tell you? If Mariella isn’t the killer, she probably thinks Rachel is. Why would she help you prove otherwise?”