Motherhood Is Murder

CHAPTER THREE

Officer Lee and I situated ourselves in a corner of the bar, each of us in a black lounge chair, a video console game of Pac-Man between us.

I placed my coffee on the video game tabletop and fingered the recycling logo on the Styrofoam cup. “What can I do to help?”

“Tell me about your evening. What were you doing on this dinner cruise?” Lee asked.

I shrugged. “What everyone else was doing, having dinner.”

Lee closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, indicating he didn’t think my comment was funny.

He placed his notebook on the tabletop. At the moment the game preview was killing off one of the Pac-Mans and the defeat music accompanied Lee as he said, “How well did you know Mrs. Helene Chambers?”

“Not well at all. I met her and Margaret last week. They invited me on this cruise. I was checking out the Roo amp; You club.”

“The mommy club?”

I nodded.

“What about the spouses?” Lee asked.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at me as though I was incredibly naive. “Did you know anyone else at your table? Any of the spouses?”

Was he asking if I’d had an affair with any of them?

I looked down at my red cocktail dress. Certainly some cleavage was showing, but nothing risqué. Why would he suggest anything like that?

I leveled my stare at him. “Only my own spouse.” “Did your husband know anyone?”

I shook my head again.

Lee’s expression looked sour. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you would go on a dinner cruise with a group of people you don’t know.”

“Like I said, I met Helene and Margaret, they were funny and smart and invited me to join this mommy support club.”

He wrote in his pad and said slowly, “Mom-my support.” He finished writing and looked up. “What’s that mean?”

Another Pac-Man bit the dust and the music played as the token crumpled into thin air. I was beginning to feel aligned with the little game piece, running and dodging. And from Lee’s tone I feared that my end could be the same.

“I wanted to talk to other moms. You know, have a peer group. Be able to check in with someone and make sure you’re not nuts.”

He made another note. “So you feel like you’re going crazy?”

Was this guy for real?

I reflexively glanced around the room for the woman officer. Surely, she would understand.

I shut my eyes and shook my head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I understand that you were away from your table when the accident occurred. Can you tell me your whereabouts around ten thirty P.M.?”

“Well, I didn’t look at my watch, but I was in the ladies’ room when Sara told me the captain wanted us back at our tables.”

Lee nodded. “And prior to that?”

Another Pac-Man warbled to his demise.

“I was on the upper deck, admiring the view of the Golden Gate.”

“With whom?” Lee asked.

“By myself.”

Lee squinted at me. “Where was your husband?”

“Dancing. Are you with homicide?”

Lee looked surprised. “No. Why would you think the homicide division would be here?”

Oh no! Way to put your foot in it, Kate!

“Sorry. I . . . never mind.”

Lee scowled and made another note. “So you were on the upper deck and your husband was on the main. Dancing? Alone?”

“No. We’d been dancing together, but I got tired and wanted to get some air. Margaret had been sitting alone at our table for a while because her husband . . . well, actually, I don’t know where her husband was . . . maybe he just doesn’t dance. I asked Jim to dance with her because she looked lonely. And I went to the upper deck to get some air and enjoy the view.”

“So you left your husband with Margaret?”

I nodded.

Lee narrowed his eyes at me. “Margaret was the one who found Helene at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Uh-huh,” I answered, not following his train of thought.

Lee pinched his lips together, then said in a condescending tone, “So, how can Margaret be dancing with your husband on the main deck and find her friend on the upper deck at the same time?”

I shrugged. “Oh. Well, maybe she didn’t want to dance with Jim . . . I really don’t know, I haven’t asked him . . .”

Lee shook his head at me. He looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes, but some ounce of professionalism remained because he controlled himself.

“Did you see anyone on the upper deck?” he asked.

“Yeah. There were people around.”

“Who?”

I stirred my coffee and thought.

“Take your time,” Lee said, tapping his pen against the video glass top.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t cataloging people. I mean, I don’t remember being entirely alone, people were hovering around oohing and aahing at the bridge. But I can’t exactly say who I saw.”

Lee stopped tapping his pen. “I see. Were you upset with anyone here tonight?”

“No, of course not.”

“Did you argue or fight with anyone tonight?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone arguing or overhear anything?”

Evelyn accused Sara of fighting with Helene. Should I tell the officer that? But what did I really know?

I shook my head. “I didn’t overhear any fights.”

“When was the last time you saw Helene?”

“After dinner. We were served dessert, but she didn’t eat hers. She said she needed a cigarette. So, she and Margaret went upstairs.”

“Margaret?” Lee looked at his notebook and read back to me my own words. “ ‘Margaret had been sitting alone at our table for a while.’ ” He gestured with his hand for me to elaborate.

“Yeah, that’s right, but it was later in the evening. Margaret did go upstairs with Helene, but then came back alone. At that point, dinner was over, so people were milling about. I didn’t keep track of everyone’s movements.”

Maybe I should have.

How would I ever make a good PI if I wasn’t more observant?

“So, Helene said she wasn’t feeling well. Was she drunk?”

I shrugged, recalling the empty glasses at her place. “She seemed a little tipsy.”

Lee pulled his card from a breast pocket and handed it to me. “Okay, Mrs. Connolly, if you remember anything, call me. Otherwise, if I can see your driver’s license for a moment, I think we’re done here.”

As I pulled my wallet from my purse, several slips of paper rained onto the floor. I grabbed the two by my feet, one a shopping list, the other my to-do list. Officer Lee retrieved the piece of paper near him. One of my homemade PI business cards.

Oh no!

Officer Lee read the card and frowned. “You’re an investigator?”

“I . . . um . . . I’m trying to be.”

Lee leaned in closer as the Pac-Man machine again killed off a character, the tune underscoring my feeling of consternation. He scratched his chin. “Anything else you can think of that you want to share with me right now?”

“Like what?” I stuttered.

Lee pressed his palms against the video game and closed in on me. “Mrs. Connolly, were you on this cruise for business?”

“What? No. What do you mean?”

Lee evaluated me for a long moment. I sat perfectly still, not even sure what expression I should put on my face.

Finally Lee rested back into the lounge chair. “Okay. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”