Motherhood Is Murder

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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 amp; 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.”