by Diana Orgain
“Well, of course, she likes it. But she could choke,” I said.
Laurie continued to cry. Paula grabbed another stick out of the basket. “Oh please, you are so mean. Denying the poor little thing a piece of bread. It’s dissolving in her mouth, she’s not going to choke!”
Laurie grasped the bread stick Paula offered her and immediately stuck it in her mouth.
“I thought she wasn’t supposed to have solids until six months.”
Paula flicked her hand at me. “That’s what they told me with Danny, but I started him at four months. They’re too hungry otherwise.”
I watched Laurie as she sucked and devoured the bread. Her first bread stick. Another first that I had almost missed!
A waiter appeared and placed an antipasto dish in front of us. Thinly sliced prosciutto ham, shaved artichokes, and Frisee Parmesan. My mouth watered and I dove into the plate with delight.
Jim popped some prosciutto into his mouth. “Did you find anything out?”
“Mr. Cheesy Jean-Luc is dating the girl that lives in the flat under Armand.”
Paula made a face. “That’d make sneaking upstairs to kill him pretty convenient.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Only Armand’s place was broken into, right, Kate?”
I nodded, eating an artichoke. “Yeah. But I did notice Jean-Luc seemed kind of surprised when I mentioned that.”
Jim made a face. “You can’t trust that guy, he’s too squirrelly.”
My phone buzzed from inside my jacket. I pulled at it frantically, hoping it was a return call from earlier. Instead Mom’s number showed on the display.
I felt a pang of guilt as I pressed the send-to-voice-mail button, but it wasn’t before Jim saw the display.
He squinted at me curiously, but chose not say anything.
Laurie continued to drool on her stick, leaving more in Paula’s lap and on the floor than in her mouth. The waiter returned with our main dishes.
“I ordered for you,” Jim said as the waiter placed a veal scaloppini dish with capers, garlic, spinach, and lemon in white wine sauce in front of me.
“One of the many reasons I love you.”
Paula handed Laurie to Jim and dug into her lunch: a wild mushroom-stuffed chicken breast with Madeira cream sauce.
Jim looked from Laurie to the printer-occupied stroller as the waiter placed his lunch—grilled filet mignon, gorgonzola tortelloni, spicy escarole, and garlic confit—in front of him.
I laughed. “Let me scarf this down, then I’ll hold her.”
Jim leaned forward to inhale his dish. “No worries. I’ll enjoy the aroma while you eat. Take your time.”
“I got you a dress for the party,” Paula said in between bites.
“You did?”
“Gold, Ann Taylor, little bitty number, you’re gonna love it.”
After lunch, Jim and I said good-bye to Paula and waited in line for about an hour and a half to get Laurie’s picture taken with Santa. She was asleep by the time our turn finally rolled around and we weren’t able to rouse her long enough to have open eyes in the photo. The end result was nevertheless still adorable with Laurie sucking on her thumb, her beautiful long lashes surrounding her closed little peepers. Even Santa seemed smitten with her.
At home, I nursed Laurie and put her down for the night. I searched the entire house for my to-do list and finally gave up and started a new one.
To Do:
1. Mail Christmas cards and CATCH UP on all Christmas items!!!
2. Interview Nancy’s dad and brother.
3. Talk to Nancy’s boss (Karen Nolan).
4. Is Armand’s death related?
5. Decide on Art Exploration class for Laurie (they start in January).
The following morning, I connected with Mindy, the woman who had found Nancy’s body in the park. We made arrangements to meet and I left Laurie in Jim’s capable hands.
I parked on Irving Street, one block from the entrance to the park where Nancy’s body had been found, and noted the thirty-minute limit on the meter. When had the city changed out all the meters from two hours to thirty minutes?
I was already rushed with the three-hour turnaround time to get back to Laurie and now I’d have to complete my interview and return to my car in half an hour.
I’ll have to voice my opinion at the supervisor party on Friday!
I laughed to myself, as if they would care at all what I had to say about the state of parking in San Francisco.
As I climbed the stairs to the Inner Sunset flat the front door opened before I hit the top. A woman about six feet tall stood at the door. Her straight dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and she had a thin scar that ran across the length of her chin.
“Hi, I’m Mindy. You must be Kate?”
I shook her hand and stepped inside the apartment. It was crowded with boxes piled high against the far wall.
“I’m moving,” she said as way of explanation.
I nodded. “Glad I was able to catch up with you.”
She nodded, although the side of her mouth twitched and she didn’t look glad about it at all. “Sorry that Will’s not here. He said he would be but . . .” She shrugged. “You never know with him.”
As if on queue a key slipped into the door and then the knob clicked. The door opened and a man equally as tall as Mindy stepped in. He was wearing a green tie-dye shirt and holding a small brown paper bag.
“Hey, girl, got your favorite.” He put an arm around Mindy’s waist, kissed her check, and handed her the paper bag.
She let him kiss her, although her face remained blank and her shoulders seemed to tense. She clutched the brown bag and glanced around the room for a place to set it.
“I’m Will Clarkson,” the man said extending his hand. “You the PI?”
I shook his hand as I watched Mindy find a box and stuff the bag inside. She pressed her hands against the lid and gave me a nervous look. I smiled reassuringly.
Will pushed aside some clothes that were piled on the sofa and motioned for me to sit. I looked skeptically at the small space he’d made for me. Could I take a seat and not topple the stack of clothes next to it? I sat gingerly.
No part of my body touched the stack! Oh my God, I must be getting smaller! The workout regimen of deep squats with Laurie in the baby carrier every morning was working! Okay, not every morning, but every morning I thought about it. Imagine what size I’d be if I was very diligent about my mini workout—I’d be at my prepregnancy shape in no time.
Mindy stood by the box she’d stuffed the bag inside of. She looked as if she was guarding the box.
“I wanted to ask you a couple questions about Nancy Pickett,” I said.
Will ran his fingers through his full hair. “Sure. Yeah. No problem. Shoot.” He crossed the room and put an arm on Mindy’s shoulder. Mindy swallowed and looked down.
“Can you tell me about it? About finding her?” I asked.
“We were walking in the park and we found her there, facedown.” He glanced at Mindy. “That’s right, isn’t it, babe?” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.
Mindy took a deep breath and fingered the scar on her chin. “Yeah. We told that to the cops already. Why are you asking us again?”
No way did I want to let up that I wasn’t privy to cop inside information. It made me so second citizen.
“I just want to get an idea about it.” When I had spoken with her on the phone, she’d seemed eager to help me, now she was annoyed. “Was Nancy on a path? Hidden? Clothed?”
“She had on running clothes. Shorts, tennis shoes,” Will said.
Mindy covered her face. “Tell her about the coyotes.”
Will’s face darkened. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head as if trying to dispel a bad memory. “I think the coyotes had nibbled off her eyelids. Her face was . . .”
Coyotes! In Golden Gate Park!
“What coyotes?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Guessing they come
over the bridge from Marin,” Will said.
Good God!
Another great reason to put off running until I’m in better shape. Not only could you get mugged and killed in the park, but you had to be able to outrun a pack of coyotes.
Will gave Mindy’s shoulder another squeeze. “Right, babe?”
Mindy shrugged.
“Was she in plain sight?” I asked.
“No, she was off the path. The killer didn’t do a great job of concealing the body. I mean, she wasn’t in a clearing or anything and she wasn’t covered up. I saw her right away.”
“Could you tell how she was killed?”
Mindy straightened and threw her shoulders back, causing Will to release her. “She was strangled.”
Will nodded. “Well, it’s not like we know forensics or anything, but her throat was . . .” His hand instinctually went to his own throat.
“Red and raw, bruised even,” Mindy finished for him.
An image of Armand in the tub flashed before me. His neck had also been bruised.
“You said she was off the path . . .”
Will nodded.
“How did you find her then? I mean, if she was off the path . . . ?”
He smiled. “We were hunting mushrooms.”
I recalled the bag he’d given Mindy. Probably more mushrooms. Was mushroom hunting legal? She certainly seemed eager to hide them. Either they were violating some regulation or they didn’t want to share their booty with me.
“Did you see anyone else on the path? On your way in or out?”
Will shook his head. “No, how about you, babe?” He rubbed her back.
She shrugged. “No.”
Of course, Nancy had probably been killed the day before they found her anyway. That’s what Galigani said the ME thought and how else could the coyotes have gotten to her?
I fought the disappointment and worse, the feeling of having wasted my time. What had I learned? Besides that I could now have another excuse for not working out.
I stood. “Do you remember anything else?”
The both shook their heads.
I needed to get back to Laurie, not to mention a ticking parking meter. I pulled Laurie’s diaper bag, which also doubled as my purse, onto my shoulder and a pain stabbed at my neck. My hand reflexively shot out to grip it. The whiplash from the accident had more or less faded, except at the most unexpected moments.
“Are you okay?” Mindy asked, grabbing my elbow.
“Oh. I’m fine,” I said, a little embarrassed by her concern. I hate the feeling of being fussed over by strangers. I much prefer to feel in charge of something although that rarely happens.
“I was in a hit-and-run last week . . . Well, I mean, they hit me. A kid from the French consulate. Turns out they have diplomatic immunity so they aren’t stepping up to pay for anything and—”
“French consulate?” Will asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, glad for the interruption. Otherwise, I might have gone on to blurt out that poor Armand had been killed.
“That’s funny. I saw an SUV with the front bashed up the other day. Sort of a coincidence, isn’t it? I only noticed it because the vehicle was so new and then I saw the diplomat plates. I hadn’t seen their fleet before—”
“When was this?” I asked, a sudden feeling of excitement building in my gut.
“I assumed they were going to Max’s, the auto body shop down the street,” he continued. “Sorry, what?”
“When? Do you remember when you saw it?”
Mindy pressed at her eyes. “It was last Thursday, wasn’t it? The day before we found the lady.”
Will squinted, then nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s right.”
“Did you manage to see the driver? Was he young with long hair?” I asked.
Will shook his head. “I didn’t see the driver.”
Images of Armand dumping Nancy’s body in the park flooded my mind. Kyra said Armand might have felt bad about hitting Laurie and I, but that didn’t seem like enough to make him commit suicide. How would he feel about murder? Would guilt over that make him take his own life?
“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”
I left their apartment and walked down the street to the auto body shop. The garage was wide open and a red convertible Lexus was propped up on jacks as it was being worked on. The passenger side was smashed in and I silently prayed that side had been vacant at the time of impact.
I quickly eyed the shop. No SUV was in the queue to be worked on.
A mechanic appeared from under the convertible. He saw me and pulled himself up from the ground. He had on greasy coveralls and wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his back pocket. “Can I help you?” he asked, approaching me.
I gave him my best smile. “Anyone bring in a French consulate vehicle, an SUV, to have some front-end repair done?”
He pursed his lips, his blue eyes narrowing a bit. “When? Like recently, like today?”
“Last week.”
He shook his head. “No. I work on a lot of cars, but I haven’t worked on a consulate vehicle. I would have remembered that coming into the shop.”
The car hadn’t been here. Whatever the SUV had been doing in this neighborhood, so far from the consulate and so close to where Nancy’s body had been found in the park, didn’t have anything to do with this shop.
So what had it been doing here and who’d been driving it?
• CHAPTER SEVENTEEN •
To Do:
1. Exercise.
2. Get facial for supervisor party.
3. Call Karen Nolan again.
4. Call Mom?
5. CHRISTMAS!!! Ahhhhh!
The following morning I had a hard time dragging myself out of bed. I cuddled with Laurie until about 9 A.M. then finally rolled out of bed to find Jim.
He was installing the new printer and could barely be bothered with reading the instructions.
As I was preparing to read the manual for him, the phone rang. It was finally a return call from KNCR. Karen Nolan would meet with me today.
“Oh. I have to get ready!” I said, as soon as I hung up the phone.
Jim barely looked up. “Where are you going now?”
“Embarcadero, KNCR. I’ll be back in time for the next feeding, don’t worry.”
Jim looked up from the printer, confused. “You don’t have to rush back. Why don’t you finish your shopping at the Embarcadero? I can just give Laurie a bottle.”
Mom guilt burned at me. But he was right, rushing back made no sense.
I stood at the security desk at KNCR, the station where Nancy had worked, waiting for the producer of her news show. After a few moments a woman in her mid-twenties with kinky, short blonde hair pushed open the swing door that divided the lobby and the rest of the building.
She looked at me and smiled. “Are you Kate?”
I nodded and extended my hand.
She shook it and introduced herself as Ellie Schulze. She led me through a long corridor past a few green rooms. I peeked in on the way past and spotted Stan, the weather guy. He was about my height with dark hair and a perpetual grin. I never realized how short he was. I suppose TV can make you believe just about anything.
Ellie stopped at a door and knocked. “Ms. Nolan? Mrs. Connolly’s here to see you.”
The door squeaked open. Karen was seated in a desk chair with rolling wheels. The office was so small she could remain seated and still open the door. Her auburn hair was held back with several barrettes and fell to her shoulders. She thanked Ellie and motioned me in.
The space was cramped with lots of photos on the walls. Karen was captured with just about every TV personality I could imagine. I searched for one with Nancy and found it off to the left. It looked like a company picnic somewhere with green grass and trees in the background. Both women were wearing ball caps with the station logo on them and smiling into the camera.
Karen glanced around the room, her nose wrinkling. “Is this
okay? We can grab a conference room.”
“No need. I just have a few questions. Thanks for meeting with me.”
She nodded. There was a folding chair in the corner and she motioned me to it. “What can I tell you that will help?”
I seated myself. “I’ve been hired by Chuck Vann. He’s Nancy’s ex-husband.”
Karen nodded again.
“He’s under the impression that Nancy might have been working on a story about the French consulate and that the story might have pushed some buttons.”
Karen’s brows drew close together. “Really?” She sat in silence, rocking back in her chair. After a moment she said, “The consulate? I think she was working on the award the consul received. Nancy was covering the story. I can’t imagine there would be crossed-up feelings.”
A soft rap sounded on her door. Karen looked annoyed. “Sorry. It’s always something.”
She pulled the door open. The lead anchorman, Jake Spencer, stood in the doorway. He hovered over us. If I had to guess I’d say he was six and a half feet tall, but it seemed like was seven feet tall. He filled the doorway with his broad frame and I feared he’d bump his head. For all his height he didn’t stoop at all, just stood rigid in the doorway.
How had I never noticed this man’s height on TV? Granted he was always seated but this was ridiculous!
Jake looked from Karen to me. “Oh. Am I interrupting?”
Karen introduced me then asked, “Do you know anything about the story Nancy was working on about the French consul?”
Jake sighed. “Poor Nancy. No. I wish I could help. Maybe Ellie?”
The last was said as almost an afterthought.
Karen frowned. “Who’s Ellie?”
Jake smiled and his muscular jawline became almost cartoonish. “Our news intern.”
