Detective Barelli's Legendary Triplets

by Melissa Senate

  His wife for the time being.

  He hadn’t seen her around today since dropping her off. But looking out the window had given him ideas for leads and follow-ups on a few of the open cases he’d inherited from his retired predecessor. Wedlock Creek might not have had a murder in over seventy years—knock on wood—but there was the usual crime, ranging from the petty to the more serious. The most pressing involved a missing person’s case that would be his focus. A thirty-year-old man, an ambulance-chasing attorney named David Dirk who was supposed to get married this coming Saturday, had gone missing three days ago. No one had heard from him and none of his credit cards had been used, yet there was no sign of foul play.

  David Dirk. Thirty. Had to be the same guy. When Reed was a kid, a David Dirk was his nearest neighbor and they’d explore their land for hours during the summers Reed had spent at his grandmother’s. David had been a smart, inquisitive kid who’d also had a father who’d taken off. He and Reed would talk about what jerks their dads were, then laud them as maybe away on secret government business, unable to tell their wives or children that they were really saving the world. That was how much both had needed to believe, as kids, that their fathers were good, that their fathers did love them, after all. David’s family had moved and they’d lost touch as teenagers and then time had dissolved the old ties.

  Reed glanced at the accompanying photo stapled to the left side of the physical file. He could see his old friend in the adult’s face. The same intense blue eyes behind black-framed eyeglasses, the straight, light brown hair. Reed spent the next hour reading through the case file and notes about David’s disappearance.

  The man’s fiancée, Eden Pearlman, an extensions specialist at Hair Palace on Main Street, was adamant that something terrible had happened to her “Davy Darling” or otherwise he would have contacted her. According to Eden, Davy must be lying gravely injured in a ditch somewhere or a disgruntled associate had hurt him, because marrying her was the highlight of his life. Reed sure hoped neither was the case. He would interview Ms. Pearlman tomorrow and get going on the investigation.

  In the meantime, though, he called every clinic and hospital within two hours to check if there were any John Does brought in unconscious. Each one said no. Then Reed read through the notes about David’s last case, which he’d won big for his client a few days prior to his disappearance. A real-estate deal that had turned ugly. Reed researched the disgruntled plaintiff, who’d apparently spent the entire day that David was last seen at a family reunion an hour away. Per the notes, the plaintiff was appealing and had stated he couldn’t wait to see his opponent and his rat of a lawyer in court again, where he’d prevail this time. Getting rid of David in some nefarious way certainly wouldn’t get rid of the case; Reed had his doubts the man had had anything to do with David’s disappearance.

  So where are you, David? What the heck happened to you?

  Frustrated by the notes and his subsequent follow-up calls getting him nowhere, Reed packed up his files at six. Tomorrow would be his first full day on the force and he planned to find David Dirk by that day’s end. Something wasn’t sitting right in his gut about the case, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d need to talk to the fiancée and a few other people.

  As he left the station, he noticed Norah coming out of a brick office building, wheeling the huge triple stroller. He eyed the plaque on the door: Dr. Laurel McCray, Pediatrician. Brody in the front was screaming his head off. Bella was letting out shrieks. Or was that Bea? All he knew for sure was that one of the girls, seated in the middle, was quiet, picking up Cheerios from the narrow little tray in front of her and eating them.

  He crossed the street and hurried up to her. “Norah? Everything okay?”

  She looked as miserable as the two little ones. “I just came from their pediatrician’s office. Brody was tugging at his ear all afternoon and crying. Full-out ear infection. He’s had his first dose of antibiotics, but they haven’t kicked in yet.”

  “Poor guy,” Reed said, kneeling and running a finger along Brody’s hot, tearstained cheek. Brody stopped crying for a moment, so Reed did it again. When he stood, Brody let out the wail of all wails.

  “He really does like you,” Norah said, looking a bit mystified for a moment before a mix of mom weariness came over her. “Even Bella has stopped crying, so double thank you.”

  As if on cue, Bella started shrieking again and, from the smell of things, Reed had a feeling she wasn’t suffering from the same issue as her brother. People walking up and down the street stared, of course, giving concerned smiles but being nosey parkers.

  Norah’s shoulders slumped. “I’d better get them home.”

  “Need some help?” he asked. “Actually, I meant that rhetorically, so don’t answer. You do need help and I’m going home with you.”

  “Reed, I can’t keep taking advantage of how good you are with babies.”

  “Yes, you can. I mean, what are husbands for if not for helping around the house?”

  She laughed. “I can’t believe you actually made me laugh when I feel like crying.”

  “Husbands are good for that, too,” he said before he could catch himself. He was kidding, trying to lighten her load, but he actually was her husband. And there was nothing funny about it.

  “Well, you’ll be off the hook in a few days,” she said. “I filled out the annulment form and all you have to do is sign it and I’ll send it in. It’s on my coffee table.”

  She hadn’t wasted any time. Or Norah Ingalls was just very efficient, despite having triplet babies to care for on her own. He nodded. “Well, then, I’m headed to the right place.”

  Within fifteen minutes they were in Norah’s cramped, sloping little house. He held poor Brody while Norah changed Bella, who’d stopped shrieking, but all three babies were hungry and it was a bit past dinnertime.

  Reed was in charge of Brody, who was unusually responsive to him, especially when his little ears were hurting, so he sat in front of Brody’s high chair, feeding him his favorite baby food, cereal with pears. Norah was on a chair next to him, feeding both girls. Bella was in a much better mood now that her Cheerios had been replenished and she was having pureed sweet potatoes. Bea was dining on a jar of pureed green beans.

  Reed got up to fill Brody’s sippy cup with water when he stopped in his tracks.

  On the refrigerator, half underneath a Mickey Mouse magnet, was a wedding invitation.

  Reed stared at it, barely able to believe what he was seeing.

  Join Us For

  The Special Occasion of Our Wedding

  Eden Pearlman and David Dirk...

  Norah was invited to the wedding? He pulled the invitation off the fridge. “Bride or groom?” he asked, holding up the invitation.

  Norah glanced up, spoon full of green bean mush midway to Bea’s open mouth. “Groom, actually. I’m surprised he invited me. I dated David Dirk for two weeks a couple years ago. He ditched me for the woman he said was the love of his life. She must be, because I got that invitation about six weeks ago.”

  “You only dated for two weeks?” Reed asked.

  She nodded. “We met at the Pie Diner. He kept coming in and ordering the pot pie of the day. I thought it was about the heavenly pot pies, but apparently it was me he liked. He asked me out. We had absolutely nothing in common and nothing much to talk about over coffee and dinner. But I’ll tell ya, when my sister, Shelby, needed an attorney concerning something to do with her son Shane, I recommended David based on his reputation. He represented her in a complicated case and she told me he did a great job.”

  He tucked that information away. “No one has seen or heard from him in three days. According to the case notes, his fiancée thinks there was foul play, but my predecessor found no hint of that.”

  “Hmm. David was a real ambulance chaser. He had a few enemies. Twice someone said to
me, ‘How could you date that scum?’”

  His eyebrow shot up. “Really? Recall who?”

  “I’ll write down their names for you. Gosh, I hope David’s okay. I mean, he was a shark, but, like I said, when Shelby needed a shark, he did well by her. I didn’t get to know him all that well, but he was always a gentleman, always a nice guy. We just had nothing much to say to each other. Zero chemistry.”

  He was about to put the invitation back on the fridge. “Mind if I keep this?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Go right ahead.” She turned back to her jars of baby food and feeding the girls. “Brody seems calmer. The medicine must have kicked in.” She leaned over and gave his cheek a gentle stroke. “Little better now, sweet pea?”

  Brody banged on his tray and smiled.

  “Does that mean you want some Cheerios?” Reed asked, sitting back down. He handed one to Brody, who took it and examined it, then popped it in his mouth, giving Reed a great gummy smile, three little jagged teeth making their way up.

  Bea grabbed her spoon just as Norah was inching it toward her mouth and it ended up half in Bea’s hair, half in Norah’s.

  “Oh, thanks,” Norah said with a grin. “Just what I wanted in my hair.” She tickled Bea’s belly. “And now the three of you need a bath.” She laughed and shook her head.

  By eight o’clock, Norah had rinsed the baby food from her hair, all three babies had been fed, bathed, read to and it was time for bed. Reed stood by the door as Norah sang a lullaby in her lovely whispered voice. He almost nodded off himself.

  “Well, they’re asleep,” she said, walking out of the nursery and keeping the door ajar. “I can’t thank you enough for your help tonight, Reed.”

  “It was no trouble.”

  For a moment, as he looked into her hazel eyes, the scent of pears clinging to her shirt, he wanted to kiss her so badly that he almost leaned forward. He caught himself at the last second. What the hell? He couldn’t kiss Norah. They weren’t a couple. They weren’t even dating.

  Good Lord, they were married.

  And he wanted to kiss her, passionately, kiss her over to that lumpy-looking gold couch and explore every inch of her pear-smelling body. But he couldn’t, not with everything so weird between them. And things were definitely weird.

  He was supposed to sign annulment papers. But those papers on the coffee table had been in his line of vision for the past two hours and he’d ignored them. Even after Norah had mentioned them when they’d first arrived tonight. “There are the papers,” she’d said, gesturing with her chin. Quite casually.

  But he’d bypassed the forms and fed Brody instead. Rocked the little guy in his arms while Norah gave his sisters a bath. Changed Brody into pajamas and sang his own little off-key lullaby about where the buffalos roamed.

  And all he could think was How can I walk away from this woman, these babies? How can I just leave them?

  He couldn’t. Signing those annulment papers would mean the marriage never happened. They’d both walk away.

  He didn’t want to. Or he couldn’t. One or the other. He might not want love or a real marriage, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t step up for Norah.

  And then the thought he’d squelched all day came right up in Technicolor.

  And if you stay married to Norah, if you step up for her, you can have your grandmother’s ranch. You can live there. You can go home. You can all go home, far away from this crummy little falling-down house.

  Huh. Maybe he and his new bride could make a deal.

  They could stay married. She’d feel safe every day.

  And he could have the Barelli ranch fair and square.

  She’d said she was done with romance, done with love. So was he.

  He wondered what she’d think of the proposition. She might be offended and smack him. Or simply tell him the idea was ludicrous. Or she might say, “You know what, you’ve got yourself a deal” and shake on it. Instead of kiss. Because it would be an arrangement, not anything to do with romance or feelings.

  He’d take these thoughts, this idea, back to the sterile rental and let it percolate. A man didn’t propose a romance-less marriage without giving it intense consideration from all angles.

  But only one thought pushed to the forefront of his head: that he wasn’t walking away from Norah and the triplets. No way, no how. Like father, not like son.

  * * *

  Norah was working on a new recipe for a barbecue pot pie when the doorbell rang. Which meant it wasn’t Reed. He’d just left ten minutes ago and wouldn’t ring the bell knowing the triplets were asleep. Neither would her sister, mother or aunt.

  Please don’t be someone selling something, she thought as she headed to the front door.

  Amy Ackerman, who lived at the far end of the street, stood at the door, holding a stack of files and looking exasperated. “Oh, thank God, you’re here, Norah. I have to ask the biggest favor.”

  Norah tried to think of the last time someone had asked a favor of her. Early in her pregnancy, maybe. Before she started showing for sure. People weren’t about to ask favors from a single mother of triplets.

  “Louisa can’t teach the zero-to-six-month multiples class and it starts Wednesday!” Amy shrieked, balancing her files in her hands. “Sixteen people have signed up for the class, including eight pregnant mothers expecting multiples. I can’t let them down.”

  Amy was the director of the Wedlock Creek Community Services Center, which offered all kinds of classes and programming for children and adults. The multiples classes were very popular—the center offered classes in preparing for and raising multiples of all ages. How to feed three-week-old twins at once. How to change triplets’ diapers when they were all soaked. How to survive the terrible twos with two the same age. Or three. Or four, in several cases.

  During her pregnancy, Norah had taken the prep class and then the zero-to-six-month class twice herself. At the time, she’d been so stressed out about what to expect that she’d barely retained anything she’d learned, but she remembered being comforted by just being there. She’d been the only one without a significant other or husband, too. She’d gotten quite a few looks of pity throughout and, during any partner activities, she’d had to pair up with the instructor, Louisa.

  “Given that you just graduated from the real-life course now that the babes are seven months,” Amy said, “will you teach it? You’ll get the regular fee plus an emergency bonus. The class meets once a week for the next six weeks.”

  Norah stared at Amy, completely confused. “Me? Teach a class?”

  “Yes, you. Who better? Not only do you have triplets, but you’re a single mom. You’re on your own. And every time I see you with those three little dumplings, I think, ‘There goes a champ.’”

  Huh. Norah, champ. She kind of liked it.

  She also knew she was being buttered up big-time. But still, there was sincerity in Amy’s eyes and the woman had always been kind to her. In fact, the first time Norah had signed up for the zero-to-six-month class, Amy had waived the course fee for her, and it wasn’t cheap.

  But how could she teach a class in anything? She was hardly a pro at being the mother of triplets. Last week Norah had made the rookie mistake of guiding her shopping cart in the grocery store a little too close to the shelves. Bella had managed to knock over an entire display of instant ramen noodles and either Bea or Brody had sent a glass jar of pickles crashing to the floor, blocking the path of a snooty woman who’d given Norah a “control your spawn” dirty look.

  Then there was the time Norah had been waiting for a phone call from the pediatrician with test results, couldn’t find her phone in her huge tote bag with its gobs of baby paraphernalia and had let go of the stroller for a second to dig in with both hands. The stroller had rolled away, Norah chasing after it. She’d caught someone shaking his head at her. Then there w
ere all the times Norah had been told her babies should be wearing hats, shouldn’t have pacifiers and “Excuse me, but are you really feeding your child nonorganic baby food? Do you know what’s in that?”

  Not to mention all the secret shame. How Brody had almost fallen off the changing table when she’d raced to stop Bea from picking up the plastic eye from a stuffed animal that had somehow come off in her crib. Norah could go on and on and on. She was no Super Mom of Multiples, ages zero to six months.

  Thinking of all that deflated her, despite the fact that a minute ago, just being asked to teach the course had made her feel almost special, as though she had something to share with people who could use her help.

  “Amy, I’m sorry, but I don’t think—” Norah began.

  Amy held up a hand. “If anyone is qualified to teach this class, it’s you, Norah. And I promise you, I’m not just saying that because I’m desperate. Though I am desperate to find the right instructor. And that’s you.”

  Norah frowned. “I make so many mistakes. All the time.”

  “Oh. You mean you’re human? It’s not easy taking care of baby triplets? Really?”

  Norah found herself smiling. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  “There’s no other way to put it.”

  “You know what, Amy? Sign me up. I will teach the class.” Yeah, she would. Why not? She most certainly had been taking care of triplet babies—on her own—for seven months.

  But she would have to hire a sitter or ask her mom or aunt to watch the triplets while she taught.

  The fee for teaching was pretty good; paying a sitter every week would still leave a nice little chunk left over, and now she’d be able to afford to buy a wall-unit air conditioner for the downstairs. Norah had a feeling her mom and aunt would insist on watching the babies, though; both women had taken the class when Norah was in her ninth month. And even Shelby had signed up when she’d found herself the mother of not one but two six-month-old babies and needed to learn how to multitask on the quick.