Glue, Baby, Gone

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Don’t you dare wake him up.” Ginny shook a finger in Emily’s face. “Did you hear me? He’ll be up soon enough. I’m sure Kiki’s got him on a schedule.”

  With that stern warning, Emily flounced off into the family room while Ginny and I went into the kitchen. As I got down plates, I said, “Anya, Erik, and Brawny will be back soon. I decided to let them take a half day off. It’s been pretty hectic around here.”

  “Um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Ginny knew where I keep the cutlery, so she opened the drawer and retrieved eating utensils. Without looking at me, she said, “Mom’s been really tough on you, and I think you deserve to know the reason why.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I know why. She’s been very clear. According to her I work too much. I’m not home enough. I’ve endangered my baby.”

  Ginny turned around and leaned against the counter, a pose so like her brother’s that the resemblance was uncanny. “No. That’s what you think is bothering her. It’s the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Possibly the same chunk of frozen water that sank the Titanic. It’s that big expanse under the water that you need to be aware of. See, I figured no one told you, so it was up to me.”

  “Told me what?”

  “Mom lost three babies. All late term. One before Chad and one before and after she had me.”

  A swift punch to the gut wouldn’t have knocked more air out of me. I struggled to catch my breath. “What? How?”

  “Whew,” Ginny exhaled. “I figured you didn’t know. I’m not sure Chad does, either. Patty has had problems carrying a baby to term, too. Paul doesn’t want her to try again, but she’s got the fever now. Seeing little Ty.”

  “Back up. Tell me about your mother.” I sank down onto one of my kitchen chairs. Ginny took one, too, facing me. As per usual, she wore an Oxford cloth button-collar shirt, a cardigan, and jeans. Patty was more of a girly-girl. How odd it was that the more feminine of the two sisters was the one who didn’t have a child.

  Ginny pushed a green tea toward me. “I remember Chad saying you like these. Here’s the deal: Mom had problems with her first pregnancy. When there wasn’t a heartbeat, the doctor told Dad, but didn’t tell her. He insisted to Dad that Mom should carry the baby until her body expelled it. Some nonsense about how it would train her womb to get it right the next time. As you can imagine, the result was horrifying. When Mom found out that Dad knew, and kept it from her, it nearly destroyed their marriage. Chad came along. That helped a lot. But when she got pregnant again and started spotting, the doctor blamed her. Said she’d been on her feet too much. She delivered a stillborn girl. I was her way of making it up to Dad for ‘killing his daughter.’ Those are her words.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. “She actually believed that hooey?”

  “Yeah,” Ginny blew out a long gust of pent up air. “Yeah, she did. You have to remember, we’re talking about a country doctor. People didn’t go get a second opinion back then. Mom never planned on having Patty. She was an accident. Patty’s a bit of a stinker because Mom carries this awful guilt about the babies she lost.”

  I didn’t unwrap my turkey sandwich. I couldn’t. My stomach had tied itself into a knot. Instead, I contented myself with sipping at my tea. Ginny’s story struck me as unspeakably sad. A doctor’s ignorance had infected Thelma Detweiler’s psyche, sickening her. He had twisted her natural sense of responsibility into an irrational way of thinking. As a result, she’d panicked when she saw me working up until the time of Ty’s delivery.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I lifted my eyes to Ginny’s. I’d expected her to demand that I forgive her mother. Maybe even call Thelma on the spot and tell her that I understood.

  “I don’t expect you to say anything. Or do anything.” Ginny gave me a lopsided grin. “That’s not why I told you. I wanted you to know this isn’t about you. You’re doing a wonderful job raising three terrific kids. Don’t let Mom’s burden weigh you down.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Brawny had wisely foreseen that Erik would be the odd man out, figuratively speaking. Rather than chance him getting in the way of his older cousins, she’d taken the precaution of asking if Chase Lutz could come over and play. Chase was another kindergartener, a boy that Miss Maggie heartily approved of. Brawny had even phoned Chase’s mother to see if she could pick him up early. Nancy Lutz was more than willing to comply because she had tons of errands to run.

  The three kids hit the back door in a flurry of excitement, promptly waking up Ty. That was fine, because while Brawny took care of coats and lunches, I was able to show off the baby. Ginny and I helped Emily, Erik, and even Chase as they took turns holding Ty. Chase wrinkled his nose in disgust after we heard a gurgling splat. “This baby stinks.”

  While I took Ty upstairs to fresh him up, Anya shared the photos she’d taken of Ty’s birth. I was none too pleased about this, but I decided we’d discuss the matter later. “See?” I heard my daughter’s eager voice. “It was really, really gross and messy. Like when that barn cat had her babies only a lot more yuck.”

  “Anya?” I heard Ginny’s mildly reproachful tone. “Would you want your daughter to share photos like that? Those seem very personal and private to me. I suggest you put your phone away before your mother comes downstairs and sees what you’re doing.”

  A grin spread across my face.

  I hadn’t been entirely sure what to think of Ginny Volker. She had always been nice enough. Pleasant, although distant. I actually knew Emily better than her mother, especially after Emily and Anya had become good friends.

  Ginny had taken a chance by telling me about her mom. She’d also made a stand and come down on my side, rather than leaving me floundering around in the dark. I hadn’t expected to have a baby and gain a sister. But maybe that’s exactly what had happened.

  If so, I was one heck of a lucky mom.

  CHAPTER 17

  At four o’clock, I figured I’d better get going. It was hard for me to leave the house, but I was obligated to teach the “A Star Is Born” class. Besides, there was always the chance that Jana Higgins might turn up. I doubted it. After so many days and nights of wondering and worrying about Bonnie’s baby, I’d reached a point where my emotions were worn out. None of our ideas for tracking the child down had worked. Jana had proven herself to be a cagy adversary—and lest I forget, a murderer as well. I tended to focus on the baby, but Detweiler had reminded me over breakfast, “She’s also a cold-blooded killer. Shooting a person at close range takes an emotional detachment that even police officers have trouble with. If she does show up at your store, don’t kid yourself. She’s gone to extraordinary measures to abduct that baby, and as time passes, and she sees herself as his mother, she’s liable to resort to even more violence to keep her little boy.”

  While the little boys played with a Star Wars set of action figures and the girls dabbled in makeup that Laurel had given Anya, Ginny and I had relaxed on the sofa taking turns holding Ty. All in all, it had been a very pleasant visit. One that I was loath to see end. But there was no help for it. While I put on my coat, I asked Ginny if Emily might like to come with us to Florida. She cocked her head and considered the invitation. “How about if we meet you down there? Jeff and I have been talking about taking a family vacation. That way the girls could stay with us so you’d have more room at your friend Cara’s house.” That sounded pretty terrific and I said as much.

  Then I gritted my teeth and told my kids, Emily, Ginny, and Brawny goodbye.

  Because I’d taken most of the day off, I knew I needed to arrive back at Time in a Bottle early for the class. I doubted that Jana Higgins would show up, but it could happen. The session would begin at six, and the page kits had been prepped for a while, but I wanted to go over my notes again. There were always a dozen small chores to perform. I use a small wipe board as a visual aid, and I like to make sure it’s cleaned thoroughly before each class. Erasable pens have a habit of drying up easily. Checking the
m is a good idea. I like to print the first page of my handouts on colorful paper, because that makes them more memorable. That also means I need to collate and staple together the plain pages that follow.

  Margit was working the sales floor when I arrived. I told her to go put her feet up and have dinner. She’d baked homemade gingerbread cookies for our guests. I had planned to order pizza rather than fuss around with a slow cooker meal as we usually did.

  Clancy had taken a dinner break, but Margit assured me she would be back soon. I took my notes to the front counter where I could look them over and greet any customers who arrived super early. That’s where I was when the front door flew open and Jana Higgins came in. A scarf shielded her features as she glanced around furtively. “I paid for this class,” she said.

  “Yes, I know you did. It starts at six.” An electricity in the air buzzed around us.

  “I can’t stick around. I left the car running with my baby in it.”

  “Oh.” I half expected her to pull a gun on me, right then and there. “Okay, so I guess you want to take the kit and leave? Is that it? You could always turn off the car and bring—”

  “No.”

  Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed Margit pop her head out of the back room. Please, oh, please don’t come out here and say anything, I sent her a wordless message. She must have understood, because she disappeared.

  “All right. The kits are on the worktable. Let’s go see them. You’ve got several choices.” As I walked past her, every hair on my body stood at attention. Would she follow? Would she stab me in the back? Shoot me?

  But I heard her feet shuffle behind me. When we got to the table, I spread the layouts in front of us. “Take your pick.”

  After going through them, she said, “Who all are coming tonight?”

  “I don’t remember. The list is up at the counter. Want me to get it? Or was there anyone in particular you were hoping to see?”

  “That lawyer lady.” She turned to stare at me, her eyes gleaming with intensity.

  “Bonnie?”

  “Yes. Did she have her baby?”

  I swallowed. Was this a test? How was I supposed to answer? If I lied, wouldn’t she realize I was onto her? I had no choice but to tell the truth. “Yes, she did.”

  Jana slid one hand deep into a coat pocket. I tried to ignore her gesture. With the other, she picked up a packet. “This one.”

  I did my best to smile. “I like that one. You get an album with it. They’re behind the counter.”

  Once again, I turned my back on her. I could feel sweat breaking out along my upper lip. How on earth was I going to help Detweiler find this woman? No way would she give me any information he could use. I couldn’t walk out to her car. That would be too obvious. I couldn’t tackle her, because she was bigger than I, and what if she ran off? We’d never find the baby.

  “You’ll want a bag,” I said. “Especially since you’ll be carrying the baby into the house. It’s still cold out, isn’t it?”

  “I have a heated garage,” her words seemed eerily flat. “So is Bonnie bringing her baby tonight?”

  Another test. I concentrated on opened one of the paper shopping bags we keep under the counter. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I didn’t dare look at her. Instead, I fumbled around with tissue paper. “Something happened. She doesn’t have her baby. I don’t know much about it.”

  “Probably for the best, don’t you think? Her husband didn’t want a boy. Remember? She said he didn’t. You shouldn’t be allowed to have kids if you don’t want them. Because then you don’t treat them right, do you?” Her whole person leaned into the counter with an urgency I wanted to draw back from. And yet, I knew I couldn’t. This was how Jana Higgins had justified what she’d done. She’d pick up on Bonnie’s casual comment about Jeremy wanting a girl, and she’d extrapolated it. In that simple statement of preference, Jana had found an excuse for abduction…and murder.

  “You’re right,” I said, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t give my true feelings away. “They didn’t want a boy. They didn’t deserve to have a child. Someone else should have it. Someone who’s going to love it with all her heart.”

  With a quick move, Jana grabbed the bag out of my hand. “You’ve got that right.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Three hours later

  There had never been a longer class in the history of my store. Ever. I thought I was going to jump out of my skin before it was over. Each time a customer made a mundane statement I wanted to yell, “Do you realize what’s happening out there? My husband is trying to track down a murderer! A killer who snatched Bonnie Gossage’s baby! And you’re griping because you can’t get your letters straight on your page? Gimme a break!”

  But I didn’t. Probably because Clancy handed me half a Xanax. “You’re going to need this to get through the evening. I’ll drive you home.”

  She was right. When I wasn’t drumming my fingers on the work tables or stuffing my face with pizza, I was picking at my scalp, a bad habit that surfaces when I’m upset.

  “Do you have lice?” asked one of my customers.

  “Not that I know of,” I said. “It’s anxiety.”

  “Over what?” asked a middle-aged woman who used scissors the way a jungle guide whacks vines with a machete. She’d totally destroyed two sets of embellishments, and she was whittling down a third when I yanked the pieces out of her hand. (By the way, that’s something I never do, which only shows you how frustrated I felt. First of all, it’s rude. Second, it’s counterproductive because people learn by doing. Last of all, it’s dangerous because certain people, like this woman, have been known to stab instructors in the hand with craft knives. This is a dangerous hobby, under adverse circumstances.)

  “My mother-in-law,” I blurted. “She’s driving me nuts.”

  As an excuse, it proved superb. The rest of the evening women one-upped each other talking about the horrible treatment they’d endured at the hands of their dear MILs. On a more cheery note, the class ended with a comparison of common poisons and how to administer them.

  Once Clancy locked the door behind everyone, she planted herself in the middle of the store and lectured me. “Do not ever, ever share with our customers again your personal favorite methods for knocking off family members. Okay? I could have lived the whole life without hearing how anti-freeze mixed in Gatorade is practically undetectable. Or that cutting a slit in a nicotine patch and slapping it into someone’s skin will do them in. What’s gotten into you? Next time, I’m dosing you with the whole Xanax. See if I don’t.”

  She grumbled most of the way to my house. Taking me by the arm, she marched me into the kitchen and plunked me down in a chair. “Brawny? She’s your problem now.”

  But before she could get back into her car, Hadcho pulled up with Detweiler in the passenger seat. “Dudley Do Right and his sidekick have arrived,” Clancy said as she came back into the kitchen. “Okay, boys, spill it so I can hit the road. It’s been a long, long night and I’m eager to crack open a bottle of wine.”

  “We got her.” Detweiler pulled me into an embrace. I shivered at the cold feel of his jacket. “It’s over,” he said to my hair. “The baby is fine. That woman put up a bit of a howl, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  Hadcho clapped me on the back. “Way to go, Kiki. Your idea of slipping your cell phone into that shopping bag was genius. Pure genius. Detweiler was able to turn on the ‘Find my iPhone’ app and we were golden.”

  Brawny clapped her hands together. “Aye, what a spot of good news!”

  But we didn’t have the chance to celebrate for long, because we were interrupted by a loud knocking at the front door. Anya yelled, “I’ll get it,” from the living room, where she’d been watching a movie with Erik. The sounds of the song “Let It Go” seemed oddly incongruous given the news that the Gossages’ baby had been recovered.

  Detweiler let loose of me and followed our daughter to the f
oyer. “Anya? What have I told you about answering the door?”

  “But you’re here, and so is Hadcho,” I heard her sass him.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Detweiler said, over the sound of the dead bolt turning.

  A hushed murmur of men’s voices followed.

  “You don’t suppose that’s the news media, do you?” Clancy wondered.

  Her question hung in the air for only a tick as Detweiler came back into the kitchen. Behind him were two men with short cropped haircuts. Both carried themselves with military bearing, and they wore identical long topcoats. The man in the front opened a leather wallet and flashed a badge. “I’m Special Agent in Charge Bret Sanders. This is Special Agent Phillip Montana. We’re here to speak to Bruce Macavity.”

  “Bruce Macavity?” I repeated his request. “You must have the wrong house. We don’t have anyone by that name here. There’s Brawny, and she’s a Macavity, but you must have gotten your wires crossed.”

  But Brawny moved me gently to one side and stepped forward to face Agent Sanders. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I am—I was—Bruce Macavity.”

  ~ The End~

  Bonus Excerpt

  from

  FATAL, FAMILY, ALBUM

  BOOK #13 IN THE

  KIKI LOWENSTEIN MYSTERY SERIES

  CHAPTER 1

  The death of any member diminishes an entire community. But the death of a woman like Nancy Owens causes a collective gasp of shock.

  Nancy was not the type of woman you’d expect to die in a drive-by shooting. She was white, upper-middle class, plump, and wholesome. A mother, sister, and wife in her forties, Nancy had never been a leader, always a follower, except when it came to her love for her Hungarian heritage. There were rumors that she had encouraged the mayor of St. Louis to connect with his Hungarian counterpart, so that our town and Budapest could become Sister Cities. Beyond that, Nancy had been involved in the Women’s League, Friends of the St. Louis Zoo, and the vestry at St. John’s Catholic Church. In photos, her face could barely be picked out in the back row. You know Nancy. She’s the person who tries to bow out of the group photo, forcing someone to search for her and making everyone else wait until she’s found. She’s the type who insists in standing where no one can see her. Nancy was colorless, odorless, and easy to forget. She had no kids from her first marriage. The divorce from husband #1 seemed amicable. No one was surprised to hear her husband had gotten bored with her. Most people doubted she would ever marry again. When Bert Owens asked her to be his wife, people asked, “I wonder what he sees in her?” After all, Bert was an attractive and successful business owner, whereas Nancy Pirva Smith was a wee bit on the dumpy side and very ordinary.