Glue, Baby, Gone

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  CHAPTER 20

  I figured the ride back to the store would be quiet.

  I was wrong. Kiki spun out, letting the wheels on her car kick up salt and sand as she backed out of her parking space. Fortunately, there was no one behind us. Although her gloves covered her hands, I could tell she was gripping the steering wheel hard because I could see how the fabric was bunched up tightly over her knuckles. At too fast of a speed, she headed for the exit ramp. We bumped over a hump intended to slow us down. And it did. The low carriage of the BMW hit the raised concrete ridge hard. My teeth clacked together.

  The scraping sound of metal against concrete loosened Kiki’s tongue.

  “You asked me what was up and I didn’t answer you. Okay, here’s the deal: I’m not going to take it from him,” she snarled. “I took it from George. I’m not going to let him do this to me.”

  I waited for more.

  “Detweiler and his mother are treating me like I’m not competent of being a mother. And I’m not going to stand for it. My whole life people have underestimated me. They think I’m stupid. Or childish. They treat me like I’m an idiot. First my mother, then George, and now Detweiler and Thelma. I’m tired of it, Cara. Sick and tired of it. I’m supposed to be a good little mom and sit at home and make meals and tuck the kids in at night. Since I’m Wife #3, I’m the last in a long chorus line of other women. Oh, and might I add that I was perfectly good enough to adopt a child from another relationship that my husband had, but now there’s something wrong with my mothering skills?”

  She slammed her fist against the steering wheel. “Nope. Good old Kiki. Stupid old Kiki. She’ll do what she’s told. She’ll agree to whatever her husband and his family demand of her. She’s a good girl, so you can count on her to mop up your mistakes and take it, and take it, and take it. You can call her names. You can treat her like garbage, and she’ll come back for more. Oh, and she’s not capable of making good decisions. So why trust her to do what’s right, huh? No need to respect her or her wishes! And that store of hers? It’s a little hobby. A play thing. A waste of her time. A distraction that keeps her from being a good wife. That’s what everyone in his family is thinking. To them, I’m a joke. A joke. Everybody is laughing…”

  Fortunately, we were on a side street in a residential area. Kiki had taken the back way toward Highway 40. Now the car rolled to a stop at a four-way stop sign. Up ahead was one of the ubiquitous parks that dot St. Louis County. The entrance was clearly marked. A safe haven of parking spaces were just ahead.

  “Why don’t you pull in there?” I suggested softly as the sobs shook my friend’s body. “I can drive.”

  Blubbering, she turned to me and nodded. Tears were rolling down her face. I leaned over the console with the stick shift poking me in the ribs and hugged her tightly. “I’m here, Kiki. It’s going to be all right. We’ll figure this out together. How about if we go to Kaldi’s? Just like the old times?”

  “Yes, please.”

  CHAPTER 21

  With an iced cookie in one hand and hot decaf in the other, Kiki settled into a booth. After a few minutes of total dedication to her treats, she was ready to talk. In a rush of words, she told me about the pressure that Thelma had been exerting on her marriage.

  “It feels like I can’t trust Detweiler anymore. I know that sounds insane, but it’s like his mother has turned him against me. If anything goes wrong with Ty, even a bad case of diaper rash, Thelma will blame me. When she was at the house for the naming, she kept giving me these angry looks. It’s like she’s had a personality transplant. I’ve tried being a grown up and asking her what I’ve done. She changes the subject. Once I did manage to pin her down and she said that she was only worried about the baby, and that I was overreacting.”

  “But Clancy and Margit have been fielding her phone calls to check on you, right?”

  Kiki nodded. “But when I mentioned that to Detweiler, he said that of course she worries about me. But that’s not the way she’s acting. It’s not worry; it’s more like gotcha! Like she’s out to prove I’m an incompetent mother.”

  “Are you?” It was a gutsy move, I’ll admit. But I figured that if I put it out there, baldly, Kiki would have to confront the question head on.

  “No. I’m a good mother. I’m just having…having…having a little trouble feeling close to Ty. It’s like I’m numb, you know? Rationally, he’s mine and I love him. But I remember how totally gaga I was about Anya. I don’t feel that sort of ‘my heart is bursting with joy’ feeling about him.”

  “Do you feel that sort of happiness about anything? Anyone?” I stuck a carrot in the hummus I’d ordered. I thought about breaking off a corner of Kiki’s cookie, but I knew once I got started, I’d eat the whole pastry. So I stuck to my healthy snack.

  Kiki ran a fingertip over the design in the icing. The large cookie had been painted with red buttercream, and then decorated with swirls of white and pink.

  “No.”

  Okay, there it was. Out on the table. A moment of honesty that could finally lead to a heart-to-heart conversation, cookies not withstanding.

  “Does that seem normal to you?” I probed for more information.

  “No.” She didn’t look up.

  “Have you mentioned this to your ob/gyn? Your general practitioner? Sounds to me like you’ve got a rollicking case of post-partum depression.”

  “I tried to talk to him. To tell him I didn’t feel right. But Detweiler was there. I didn’t want him to think…” She held up the cookie like a shield. From where I was sitting, a whiff of vanilla floated my way.

  “Got it. That’s understandable. Especially with Thelma on your back. Look, I’m buying myself a cookie. You want another one?”

  “How about a half dozen?”

  CHAPTER 22

  Besides the cookies, I bought an assortment of pastries to take back to the store. Although Kiki offered to pay, I reminded her that she and her crew had done all sorts of nice things for me over the years. I was also saving on a hotel room. Finally, she agreed to let me buy treats for her workers.

  I’d gotten the coffee pot going and made Kiki a cafetière of decaf. A part of me wanted to point out that sugar wasn’t going to help Kiki’s depression, but I figured it also wouldn’t help our relationship if I turned into a nag. Like Thelma. I did wonder what her problem was. Why had she suddenly turned against Kiki?

  The back door flew open, and Margit stomped inside. Past her I could see that a fresh coating of white fluff was coming down, hard. It reminded me of the time I’d had a pillow fight with Tommy, and his broke open, scattering goose feathers all over the bedroom.

  “Ach, but the streets are terrible.” Margit stamped her rubber boots, trying to get the clumps of snow and ice to fall away. “More to come, they say. Did you hear the news? About that awful woman? Stottlemeyer?”

  “Yup.” Kiki didn’t even look up from her third cookie. She’d eaten one right after another, letting the sugar buzz distract her from her sadness. Those sweets were her attempt to numb the pain, and I knew that wouldn’t work. Not for long.

  The front door minder rang while Margit was brushing off her coat. Kiki struggled to her feet. The weariness I’d observed in her seemed more pronounced than ever, probably as a result of her emotional state. The more she’d talked, the more I realized that Kiki was absolutely drained. Between the gloomy weather and her responsibilities, she was like a well run dry. But she certainly needed more than a good night’s sleep. She needed to feel that Detweiler was in her corner. She needed help, maybe even drugs, to get over her post-partum blues. She needed someone to tell Thelma to quit nagging. And yeah, a healthy dose of sunshine was certainly in order.

  I knew my way around the store, so I hopped to my feet and said, “Take your time, ladies. I’ve got this.”

  Clancy joined us. She and I worked the sales floor for the next three hours. That left Kiki and Margit to go over orders and inventory, but I did manage a call to Kiki’s ob/gyn.
When the receptionist heard my concerns, she scheduled Kiki for a five o’clock appointment the next day. While Kiki was handling a special order for a new customer, I asked Margit and Clancy if they could make sure the store was covered while we were gone.

  “There’s a crop tomorrow night. Will you be back for it?” Clancy asked. “I can cover it if necessary.”

  I knew that would mean she’d be driving across the river to Illinois in the dark. Illinois only has two seasons: Summer and road construction. Worst of all, they move orange cones around like a carnival barker swaps coins under cups.

  “The appointment is at five. It’s the last one of the day, the crop starts at seven, right? We should be back for it.”

  Margit adjusted her cats-eye glasses. “I will stay until you arrive.”

  Despite the bad weather, or perhaps because of it, we were all busy the rest of the day. At one point, I handled three customers at the same time. Kids were in school and the roads were mostly clear, but more wet stuff was on the way. Mothers came in looking for new projects, something to help them fend off the horrible cabin fever that would only get worse. In St. Louis, the bad weather hits hardest in January, keeps delivering knock-out blows in February, and only gets bearable the last week in March. If you’re lucky.

  For lunch we had a wild rice soup that Margit had made, plus generous chunks of sourdough bread topped with creamy butter. The meal was a solemn one, compared to other repasts I’ve had at Kiki’s store. It was as if we were waiting for news. When would things get back to normal? Where was that tiny infant and was he still safe?

  Clancy fingered her spoon. “I don’t know how it is with infant abductions. When someone takes a child or an adult, every hour and every day makes it less likely that the victim is alive. Is that how it is with infants?”

  “No,” I said. “I did research on this last night on my iPad. Not necessarily. Most of the time the child is well-cared for. Remember, we’re dealing with a woman who sees herself as a mother. Her motives are different from a child molester or a pervert.”

  “Margit? Would you turn on the news?” Clancy wondered. “I can’t stand the silence. Thinking about the baby has me too upset.”

  Margit reached for the remote and turned on the little TV that Dodie had once had installed in her office, but that Kiki had since moved to the central meet and eat area. We listened with dread as the weather service warned of frostbite and other health hazards caused by another wave of cold weather.

  “Ach, the bad news, it keeps coming and coming.”

  But all that changed when the anchor came back on the screen to take us to a live press conference at Southeast Hospital. Without asking, I turned up the volume. A somber-faced Jeremy stood with his arm around Bonnie. She’d changed out of her hospital gown and into a crewneck sweater, but the puce color did nothing for her washed out complexion. Her hair had a gummy sheen, and her eyes were raw as peeled onions. A paper in Jeremy’s hands shook with nervousness as he addressed the camera.

  “We know you care about our son. So do we. Please bring him back to us. We aren’t angry with you, but we are worried about him. You know nothing of his medical history. His two brothers ask about him all the time. From the bottom of our hearts, we’re begging you, please return our baby to us.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The rest of the press conference was handled by a man identified as the CEO of Southeast Hospital. Reporters pelted him with questions about how this could have happened, but we weren’t interested in his answers.

  “Mind if I cut this off?” Kiki stood with one hand on the dial.

  “Be my guest,” I said. Margit nodded in agreement.

  Clancy had finished her food. She stood up and looked around, with a look of speculation on her face. “How about if I take the supplies we need for the crop next week and go home? I can kit things up on my kitchen table. I really, really don’t want to get stuck behind construction crews on the other side of the river.”

  “Be my guest,” Kiki said. “Promise to text me so I know you made it, okay?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Kiki, Margit, and I finished our food in silence. I couldn’t help myself from asking Margit for the recipe for her soup. “Ja, of course, I’ll give it to you,” she said, as her cheeks pinked up with happiness.

  The door minder rang after lunch while we were picking up. I jumped to my feet. “I’ll get it.”

  The arrival turned out to be a very bundled up Lee Alderton. She brushed her blond hair back from her eyes and removed her tan angora cap that matched her Burberry car coat, worn over black ski pants tucked into nice leather booties.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by how stylishly she was turned out. Her daughter Taylor works in a fancy boutique as a buyer.

  Lee gave me a hug. “Aren’t you freezing? I am. If I had my druthers, I’d be walking a beach in Florida. In fact, I’m flying back down there next week to our house in Palm Beach. If you have any free time, let’s go to lunch. Or are you up here permanently?”

  I explained that I’d come up to serve as godmother for Kiki’s son, Ty.

  “Then we’re passengers on the same cruise boat. I agreed to be godmother for Bonnie Gossage’s new baby,” said Lee. “That’s why I’m here.” With a sigh, she added, “That’s hoping that things get straightened out, of course. Lordy. Poor Bonnie is in a terrible state.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  Lee shook her head sadly. “I was just there. She’s crying her eyes out. Inconsolable. You heard about that surgical infection, she has? Right, well, Jeremy thinks it is because of all the stress. They’re keeping her until they can bring her fever down. Who would do such a thing to them? The older kids keep asking where their new brother is. Bonnie blames herself for drinking that stupid drugged cola. I told her, ‘Of course you didn’t know it was drugged. Give yourself a break!’ Crikey. She’s so upset.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” I shrugged. “I think we’re all feeling miserable about the kidnapping, and then there’s this awful weather. Is there something you wanted in particular? Do I need to go get Kiki or Margit to help you? Are you here to pick up an order? I know where they keep those.”

  “No, no. I was hoping to put together a page about being godmother. I thought I’d also stop in and collect some supplies. Maybe even a page kit. Something for Bonnie to do to take her mind off things.” Lee paused. “Who am I kidding? There’s nothing that’ll distract her, is there? I just feel so helpless. That press conference, ugh. I heard it in the car. Especially on top of the news about Bernice Stottlemeyer. You heard, didn’t you? Can you imagine coming home from a two-week vacation and finding a dead body in the car next to you? That’ll be the last time that family parks in the long-term lot.”

  “Did you know Bernice?”

  “Did I know her? Yes, of course I did. I’ve known Bernice most of her life.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. We belong to the same country club.”

  “What do you think happened to her? Any ideas?”

  “Ha!” Lee frowned at me. “Like that takes any thinking at all. I’d bet good money that Wesley’s girlfriend shot her.”

  CHAPTER 24

  “Kiki? Can you come out here a second?” I stuck my head in the back room and hollered like a mom calling to her child on the playground.

  Leading her by the hand, I took Kiki to where Lee sat at the work table. As always, hugs were exchanged. Lee asked to see any new photos of Ty. I obliged, because I’d taken several since I’d arrived. Once the nice-nice formalities had been observed, I plunged right in. “Lee says that she thinks Wesley Stottlemeyer’s girlfriend shot Bernice.”

  “Wesley’s girlfriend? She might have killed Bernice?” Kiki’s voice moved up a notch. I dragged over a stool for her to perch on. “Detweiler did say Wesley had an alibi. I guess he was with a woman for an event at the Ladue Country Club. But my husband didn’t seem to think Wesley’s girlfriend was involved in the shooti
ng. You must know something the police don’t know yet.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But everyone at the club suspects she’s tangled up in it somehow,” Lee said. “Her name is Lila Carola, and she’s a single mom who went back to school to get her degree in graphic arts. For one of her classes, she was assigned to do a marketing project at Wesley Stottlemeyer’s marketing research firm. That threw the two of them together for long stretches of time. One thing led to another. I think the contrast between Lila and Bernice really made Wesley realize what he’d been missing.”

  “When did all this start?” I asked.

  “Last summer.” Lee didn’t hesitate. “Bernice had moved out temporarily. It was after she moved back that she decided they needed to adopt. I think that’s when you met her, right, Kiki?”

  “Wow.” Kiki looked stunned. “Yes, it is. But I didn’t know anything about Bernice’s marital history. I was hired to make an adoption album for her. I figured everything between her and Wesley was hunky-dory. Wait. Are you suggesting that this girlfriend wasn’t a recent development?”

  “Depends on how you look at it. I think that Wesley and Lila were sending flirty text-messages back and forth around the Fourth of July. I remember because Bernice stomped into the club and accused him of cheating in front of everybody. Of course, we all knew that she’d moved out, and what a witch she is, so no one had much sympathy for her.”

  “Bernice had a breakdown, what? Three months ago?” Kiki did the calculations in her head.

  “Right. Wesley felt partially responsible for that, as you might imagine. My impression was that the whole adoption idea was a last ditch effort by her to save the marriage. Frankly, I think Wesley was relieved when the birth mother wasn’t interested in them. He realized that he’d done everything he could to hold the marriage together. When Bernice came in here and acted out, he demanded that she get help. He was ready to move on, but he didn’t start the divorce proceedings until she had gotten a good start in therapy.”