Motherhood Is Murder

CHAPTER THIRTY

To Do:

1. Thanksgiving Prep!!!

2. Order turkey.

3. Get pie recipe from Paula.

4. Stuffing? Check online.

5. Potatoes—same old boring mash?

6. Cranberries—canned or fresh?

I woke up with a stiff neck from sleeping too long on the couch with Jim. I hadn’t remembered moving to the bedroom, but somehow Jim, Laurie, and I were all safely tucked in.

I stretched my neck and contemplated coffee. Laurie started moving her head from side to side. Rooting. I picked her up and played my favorite game. Kissing her cheek so when she automatically turned toward me, I turned my head and her mouth landed on my cheek. I did this over and over, pretending she was showering me with kisses.

Laurie didn’t like the game this morning and let out a howl, telling me she meant serious business.

I squeezed her. “Love my little bunny girl!”

Laurie’s cry escalated into a high-pitched wail.

“Okay, I know you want service.”

I took her into the nursery, and after changing and feeding her, I put her up on my shoulder and rubbed her back, waiting for the inevitable burp. She was asleep again before I could even place her back into the bassinet.

I slipped on jeans and a sweatshirt, then scribbled a note to Jim. I headed to the café and tried to sort out my feelings.

Last night Margaret had effectively terminated me, but technically I was still working the case for “The Grizzly.” I thought about my report to him. Now more than ever he would think Margaret was guilty or at least try and build a case against her—anything to steer attention away from Bruce.

With the toxicology results available now, I thought it was just a matter of time before McNearny arrested Bruce.

I pushed open the door to the café. Kenny was seated at a table near the counter, earphones securely in place and feet drumming out a rhythm.

“Kate! Got time for chess?” He pulled the earphones out and reached for the chess set that was on a nearby bookshelf.

I ordered a decaf latte and perused the pastry case.

How many calories did a biscotti have?

Ooh! They had chocolate-dipped ones today.

I ordered two and put one in a bag to take home to Jim.

I took a seat across from Kenny. “I don’t have time for games, Kenny. I’m working on serious business.”

“Cool,” he said, ignoring me and setting up the board.

“Shouldn’t you be rehearsing or something?”

He looked confused. “I was.”

I laughed. “You were listening to your iPod drinking a cappuccino. How does that count for rehearsal?”

He looked offended. “No, no. Not just listening. I was visualizing playing!” He continued to set up the chessboard as the barista brought my coffee.

“Yeah? You can visualize yourself playing chess, too, because I just told you I have serious work I need to do.” I dipped my biscotti into the latte and ate it.

Kenny nodded thoughtfully as he completed setting up the board. “Okay. On your investigation stuff?”

I nodded.

He pushed the chessboard to me. “Tell me about it.”

“Okay.” I picked up the white queen, rook, bishop, knight, and a pawn, then selected the counterpieces in black. I grabbed the pair of pawns. “So, Jim and I go on this cruise—”

“Wait. Are you guys the pawns?”

“Yeah.” I sipped my latte.

Kenny shook his head. “No, no. Here.” He replaced the pawns with the king and queen. “There. You and Jim.”

I laughed. “No seriously. I was a pawn.”

“Never!”

“Right, I’m not going to argue with you, let’s make them all pawns. Except for the victim. We’ll give her the respect of being queen.”

I laid Queen Helene down.

Kenny made a sad face by sticking his lower lip out and turning it down. “You killed off the best piece right away. I told you, you should be queen.”

“This is serious, Kenny.”

He sat up. “Right.”

I took the matching king representing Bruce and placed him next to Queen Helene. “Husband,” I said.

Kenny nodded and frowned, trying to give the respect I was requiring of him.

Then I lined up the four sets of pawns. “These are the couples on the cruise.” Then I took the other queen and placed her precariously on the edge of the board. “She’ll be Celia, the midwife. She wasn’t on the cruise but had an attempt made on her life.”

“The price of royalty,” Kenny said.

I glared at him. He ducked his head and drank his cappuccino. I sipped from my latte.

Yum.

But it needed a little extra something. I pulled out the second biscotti that I’d been saving for Jim, dipped it in the latte, and ate it.

Much more yummy.

I took one pawn representing Alan and placed him next to Queen Helene. “Affair.”

Kenny nodded. “Affair equals motive, right?” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them up and down to demonstrate how clever he was.

“Not in this case. Long story—just take my word for it.”

I replayed the drama as best I could with the chess pieces. Kenny seemed to be following along nicely and it was helping me to review all the facts I knew. I ended by lining up the pieces that had seen Celia on the day she was poisoned. Me, Margaret, Evelyn, and Bruce.

Kenny studied the layout then took the pawn representing Howard and placed it in my lineup.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You said Margaret saw them together at the sandwich place.”

I froze.

Suddenly the drama before me changed. If Celia was having an affair with Howard, we had a motive for him . . .

No. Not Howard.

Why would he kill his mistress, or Helene for that matter?

Sara.

A motive for Sara, Miss No-Nonsense. What if Sara had known Howard was having an affair but didn’t know with whom? Let’s say she suspected Helene. Certainly Helene could have been acting suspicious because she was having an affair, only not with Howard.

Sara had been on the cruise. They’d had a fight. The wet dress, the spilled drink, it was all starting to add up.

Had she seen Celia that day?

Celia hadn’t mentioned seeing Howard or Margaret to me; maybe because she’d been covering up her affair. Had she seen Sara, too, and just not told me?

I stood. “I gotta go. I need to talk to Sara.”

Kenny grabbed the chess pieces and threw them into the box. “My work here is done,” he said proudly. He popped up and joined me on the walk home.

We said good-bye to each other as we approached our houses. I let myself inside and found Jim in his underwear watching the morning news with Laurie secured in the crook of his arm. I took Laurie from him and nuzzled her. She fixed her blue eyes on me and cooed.

“Did you get me anything?” Jim asked hopefully.

“Uh . . . yeah, I did.”

Jim smiled.

“But I ate it.”

He laughed. “Look.” He indicated the television. “There’s a huge protest downtown,” he said. “Tons of arrests.”

“Since you’re not dressed, does that mean you’re staying home today? No meetings?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah. It’s crazy out there. I’m staying here with my little sasquatch and her mommy.”

“I need to run an errand. I want to follow up with Miss No-Nonsense, see where she was on the fifteenth.”

Jim’s brows furrowed. “All right, but be careful.”

“Should I stop on the way and order the turkey?”

Jim smiled. “I’m a step ahead of you. I already preordered it online.”

I sat outside Sara’s house and contemplated my strategy.

Could I come right out and ask her about Howard?

How sure was I that Celia and he were having an affair? If they weren’t and Sara was completely innocent, I’d be sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. On the other hand, Celia was still alive. If Sara was plotting something, better to be safe than sorry.

I rang Sara’s doorbell. She opened the door and squinted at me.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you.” She had on a bright orange T-shirt and jeans with paint splotches across the front. She stood in the doorway and kept me on the stoop.

“Sorry I didn’t call first. Do you have a minute?”

She glanced behind her, into what I knew was the living room. “Just one. Go ahead.”

I imagined baby Amanda at her huge play station, flailing around.

“Uh. Yeah. Okay.”

Why wasn’t she letting me inside the house?

Why was Miss No-Nonsense dressed in a dirty old T-shirt?

“Sara, can you tell me where you were on November fifteenth? Did you happen to see Celia Martin that day?”

I waited for her reaction to Celia’s name, but she simply scratched at her chin. “Was that last week? What day? Who’s Celia?”

“It was a Tuesday. Celia is a midwife. She did Margaret’s birth and now she’s helping Evelyn . . .”

Sara scrunched her nose in distaste at the mention of Evelyn’s name. “Oh. Yeah. The midwife.”

“I understand Howard was the general contractor that remodeled the birthing center.”

She frowned and blinked rapidly a few times. “Oh . . . uh . . . uh-huh.”

She hadn’t known.

Her husband had taken the job on the side and hadn’t told her. Even Margaret knew about the job. I guess the mommy group wasn’t as close as they had pretended. Venom, lies, and betrayal all around.

Sara composed herself and asked, “How can I help you?”

“Where were you on the fifteenth, Sara? Did you see Celia?”

“No. Why are you asking?”

“Someone poisoned her with the same drug that killed Helene.”

Sara swallowed and appeared frozen. “Is she all right?”

She didn’t seem to know anything.

I nodded. “Can you tell me where you were on Tuesday morning?”

“Tuesdays are Amanda’s swim class. We were at La Petite Grenouille.”

That would be easy to check.

I rapped on the doorframe. “Okay. Thank you for your time.”

I proceed down the walkway toward my car. As I got in, I noticed she was watching me from the window.

Strange, but was she guilty?