by Diana Orgain
Celia appraised me with her dark eyes. No. She smiled a wide smile and stretched out her hand. Celia Martin.
I shook her hand. Nice to meet you.
Margaret resumed her clutch on my arm. Kate is a private investigator.
I felt myself flush inwardly. Could I really pass myself off as a PI?
Why did I ever give that PI card to Margaret?
Okay, I had somehow fumbled through a case a few weeks ago, but I didnt even have a license.
And yet, the prideful side of me or the incredibly stupid side, if they are even different, found myself nodding and saying, Yuplike that was really going to convince anyone of my qualifications! Yup! Like an idiot! I didnt say the proper word, yes, only yup, which rhymes with pup, which sounds like schmuckhow fitting.
Celia, nevertheless, seemed impressed. Oh! She gasped.
Margaret turned to me. Celias a midwife. She delivered my second, Marcus. Margarets eyes teared over again. Celia reached out and squeezed her hand.
Sara approached us. She squinted at me. Not quite a frown, but definitely something.
Maybe the chignon was too tight. It made her look so severe, so no-nonsense!
She embraced Margaret and the two wept.
Celia glanced at me, flashing a sad smile. She indicated the cards in her hand and excused herself. I glanced at my watch. Id been out of the house almost two hours. I had fed Laurie before leaving but was now starting to feel the familiar burn in my breasts indicating feeding time was approaching.
I needed to leave now.
Margaret and Sara disentangled from each other. Sara gave me a curt nod. Kate, I didnt think you would be here. Thank you for coming.
Youre coming to the reception, arent you? Margaret asked.
I glanced at my watch again.
She probably needs to get back to her baby. Dont you, Kate? Sara asked.
Why so much disdain?
I felt a surge of rebellion. The answer of course, was Yes, yup! I needed to get back to Lauriethat is what any responsible mother would say. It is what any good mother would have said. Instead I found myself smiling and saying, Well, she is with her dad and I think theres even some milk reserve . . . I suppose its okay for me to be out just a little while longer.
Margarets face visibly relaxed. Oh, good. Good.
Sara and I exchanged tight smiles.
Margarets husband, Alan, approached. He offered his arm to Margaret. Shall we?
Margaret nodded. Alans eyes raked me over. They had a glimmer of recognition, but it seemed he couldnt quite place me.
Kate Connolly, I offered. We met the other night on the dinner cruise.
His eyes darkened and he looked at me as though I were some kind of stalker. Of course.
Right.
So now there were two people who didnt want me around.
CHAPTER FIVE
Disconnect
On my way out of the church, I noticed Inspector McNearny and Inspector Jones hovering around the back.
Homicide cops.
I had met both of them while working on my first case a few weeks ago. In fact, McNearny was a good friend of Galiganis and through that friendship our tenuous meeting had turned a bit more friendly.
McNearny raised a hand to me and gave me a not now look.
Okay, maybe we werent that friendly.
He and Jones seemed to be trying to blend in with the crowd. They had positioned themselves near the exit and were pretending to be absorbed with the items posted on the church bulletin board.
Good Lord, didnt they know that even plainclothes cops still looked like cops?
McNearnys brown sport coat and no-nonsense shoes looked worn and at odds with this more affluent crowd. Joness blue suit was more compatible with the crowd, but his austere crew cut gave him that military look many San Francisco cops sport. Not to mention that both of them were as stiff and stilted as wooden chess pieces.
At least Jones smiled at me when I passed him.
What are they doing here? And why try to look undercover?
I noticed Celia, the midwife, watching me watching the cops. When we made eye contact, hers flicked over to McNearny. McNearny couldnt even muster a rigid smile; instead he coughed into his hand, which caught Joness attention. They exited the church.
I glanced back at Celia. She shrugged then handed a card with directions to a pallbearer.
I left the church and crossed the Washington Square Park toward Columbus Street, where I had parked. It was blustery in the park and the trees swayed. I wrapped my scarf over my mouth and nose so as not to breathe in the cold air. As I approached Union Street, I saw McNearny and Jones go into Marios Bohemian Cigar Store Café.
Oh! Marios meatball sandwich and eggplant focaccia panini!
My mouth watered. I glanced at my watch.
Did I have time to stop in and grab a bite?
But then Id have to talk to McNearny. Eating something grilled was completely different from being grilled.
While that meatball sandwich might well be worth itI needed to hurry to my car in order to get into the line for the funeral procession.
I guessed McNearny and Jones werent going to the reception.
Some investigation they were running. Why had they come to the funeral?
I passed the Bohemian shop, and thankfully, because my face was covered by my scarf, neither McNearny nor Jones noticed me rush past.
Once in my car, I dialed Jim from my cell phone.
How are you holding up? I asked.
Me? Great! Are you on your way home?
No. Im going to the cemetery. How is Laurie?
Shes asleep in her bouncy chair.
Hmmm. Why was babysitting so easy for him?
Have you fed her?
Shes been asleep the entire time.
I recalled the lint Id found between her fingers the other day. When she wakes up, give her a bath and then feed her. I left some milk for her in the fridge.
A bath?
Yeah.
What do you mean, in our tub?
No, come on. In her little baby tub. You know how to set up it, right? You need to snap in that green meshy net thing to hold her.
Silence. Followed by a low hmmm.
Visions of him bathing Laurie flashed through my mind. I saw him either scalding her or getting distracted and leaving her alone in the tub, or not putting the net thing in right so she slipped under the water, or getting soap in her eyes, or
Never mind. Ill give her a bath when I get home.
Okay, Jim said cheerfully.
No wonder babysitting was so easy for him.
I followed the procession to the cemetery, which was a short drive out of San Francisco. My stomach rumbled and I regretted not buying the panini at Marios.
I would probably dream about meatballs and focaccia tonight. Certainly, there would be food at the reception, but probably not like Marios.
What kind of coldhearted person was I?
Thinking of food instead of Helene?
I quickly felt remorse as the procession arrived at the cemetery. At the grave site, the wind was unrelenting, whipping us around as though we were rag dolls. As Helene was lowered into the ground, I glanced over those assembled. No sign of McNearny or Jones. The crowd from church had significantly dwindled and I felt even more conspicuous.
Celia stood next to me during the short ceremony, giving me some comfort as she looked like she felt out of place also.
The priest announced the reception at Bruces parents house in Hillsborough. The November wind pushed its way between my hair, and up my sleeves, still managing to make me feel cold despite my winter jacket. I pulled my scarf over my ears and tucked my face into the collar of my coat.
We all quietly trailed up the hillside. Despi
te my efforts to keep up with the crowd, I seemed to be at the tail end of the pack behind all the other mourners. It wasnt such a big hill. How out of shape was I?
Beeps and lights filled the air as the drivers unlocked their cars from a distance.
Kate!
I turned to see Celia rushing toward me. I stopped to wait for her.
Can I get a ride with you? she asked. I came with Margaret and Alan. But I think they already left.
Sure. I was happy to have the company. She could direct me to Bruces parents place, and more important, I might be able to glean some information about Helene from her.
We climbed into my Chevy and buckled ourselves in. Celia held the directions in her lap.
I started the car and headed toward the freeway. There was an awkward silence between us. I reached for the radio dial but decided against it. Were you close to Helene? I asked.
Celia rocked back and forth. We were getting close . . . Margaret and Helene were inseparable, so I saw her every time Margaret had a checkup.
I shook my head. This is all so terrible, so sudden.
Do you know what happened? You were on that dinner cruise, werent you?
Yes, but all they really told us was that she fell down some stairs and was unconscious. Then the police showed up and took statements. Thats all I know.
Those men at the funeral. They were cops, werent they? Celia asked.
I nodded.
Celia lowered her eyes. I thought Margaret said it was an accident.
An accident?
Why would homicide attend the funeral if they thought it was an accident?
That had to be wrong.
Obviously, Celia was thinking the same thing because she said, Why would the police come to her funeral?
I dont know, I admitted.
I felt her eyes on me.
I changed topics. Were you Helenes midwife?
She looked at me curiously. No. Helene didnt have any children.
No children?
I thought she founded the mommy group with Margaret, I said.
Did she? Celia shrugged. I guess she was very anxious to be a part of the group. I think she really wanted to get pregnant, but well, we dont always get what we want, huh?
That made no sense. Why hang out with a mommy group if you werent one?
I had grieved for children who I thought lost their mother last night. Turned out I was wrong.
What about her family? Parents? Siblings?
I think her parents passed away a while ago. I dont know. I dont think she had any siblings either. Maybe thats why she wanted to have kids so bad. Its hard not to have a family. Celia indicated an exit from the freeway. Thats our exit.
We pulled up to Bruces parents estate in Hillsborough, a beautiful wooded community just south of San Francisco. As I parked, Margaret emerged from the house. She rushed down the pebbled path toward my car and appeared at my driver side window.
Oh my goodness! Im so glad you have Celia! I wasnt thinking back there, Celia. I didnt mean to leave you, Margaret said.
Celia flashed a brilliant smile. No worries. Kate was kind enough to give me a lift.
Ill take you home. I promise, Margaret said.
We climbed out of the car and walked in unison on the path toward the house, then single-filed into the grand entrance. Approximately thirty people mingled about the living room. It was a catered affairno meatball sandwiches, but still a nice layout.
Celia made her way to a table that was doubling as a bar and spoke with the man serving wine.
Margaret joined her husband and Sara in a corner of the room. The three quietly balanced their plates and picked sparingly at their food.
Witnessing their grief made my appetite vanish.
I spotted Helenes husband, Bruce, hovering near the back door looking like he wanted to escape. His head hung a bit and his shoulders slumped, emanating a deep sadness.
I joined him at the doorway. Bruce, I am so sorry for your loss.
He studied me a moment, his eyes penetrating and dark, then looked out the window of the back door at the garden. I followed his gaze and watched as the wind bent branches on the willow tree in the garden.
Thank you for coming, he said.
I nodded, feeling awkward. Another guest joined us and gave her condolences to Bruce. I didnt have any more to add to the conversation, so I slipped away.
My breasts were burning and I longed to be home with Laurie and Jim. I glanced at my watch. I had now been away from home for three hours. Time to go.
I looked around for Celia to make sure she had a ride home. I watched as she sauntered up to Bruce. She held two wineglasses and offered him one. Bruce smiled widely, and when he took the glass, their hands brushed and both flushed.
Bruce looked around the room, then said something to Celia. They exchanged words in a hushed tense tone. I was out of earshot but their conversation certainly looked intimate. I glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them.
What was going on?
Celia looked away from Bruce. He glanced in my direction. I avoided his gaze by perusing the buffet. He reached for her elbow and drew her in closer. He whispered into her ear and, with a final look over his shoulder, guided her out the back door to the garden.
Hmmm.
Could they be having an affair?
CHAPTER SIX
Batting 100
To Do:
1. ?
2. ?
3. Find good how to book for PI business.
4. Exercise.
5. Plan Thanksgiving dinner.
6. What happened to Helene?
7. Exercise!!!
Several days had passed since the funeral, and I spent the time alternately fretting between what had happened to Helene and trying to forget about it. This morning Jim was working in our home office and I was in charge of Laurie, who was being extremely needy. Every time I put her down for a nap, she cried. Now she was overtired and as fussy as could be. I wanted to work out, but it seemed impossible to detangle myself from her.
I decided to put her into the front-facing baby carrier and do squats. Multitasking made me feel good anyway. What better way to live? Be a great mom and get in shape at the same time! Wonderful!
The phone rang, interrupting my second set of squats. Hey, I could add a third thingmothering, exercising, and talking on the phone. I was a multitasker extraordinaire.
I grabbed the cordless receiver and managed a breathless Hello.
Kate. This is Margaret.
She sounded as breathless as I did.
Hi, Margaret. How are you?
I need to talk to you. I just spoke with Bruce, you know, Helenes husband?
Sure, I said, powering through another set of squats.
He said the medical examiner hasnt released the final report yet, because they wont have the findings from toxicology for several weeks. But they asked him if Helene was a user.
Uh-huh. I stopped doing the squats, finding it impossible to concentrate on three things at once.
A user, Kate. A drug addict!
Yeah . . .
She wasnt. She didnt use drugs. And they sent her blood, or well, whatever they sent to toxicology. Wouldnt that mean that she died from an overdose or something?
Its hard to say. I dont know the procedures at the MEs office. Maybe they send everything to toxicology.
But they asked Bruce if she was a user.
Right. I absently rubbed the top of Lauries head, which was peeking out of the baby carrier. What else did they tell him? Did she have head trauma, broken bones?
Margaret took a sharp intake of breath. Oh. Theres Alans car. She let the breath out in a rush. Kate, I need to hire you. Can we meet?
Uh . . . sur
e. Where and when?
Tomorrow, ten A.M.?
Okay. Theres a cute café near my house
Alans home. I gotta go.
She hung up.
I put the phone down and resumed my squats. I hadnt been able to give Margaret directions to the café. Shed rushed off the phone so fast. Strange.
But she wanted to hire me.
Jim entered the living room and observed me doing squats with Laurie in the carrier. What are you doing? he asked.
What does it look like?
Looks like youre going to hurt yourself.
He was right. My lower back was feeling a little strained but pride makes you say funny things. No, Im not. Im fine. Lauries light.
He placed his hands on my arms to stop me, then leaned over Laurie and kissed me. He unstrapped the carrier and took Laurie into his arms. Why didnt you just give her to me?
You were working. I didnt want to disturb you.
No problem. You do your workout. Im going to catch up on my sleep.
What?
Jim headed down the hallway with Laurie. Im going to nap with her.
Nap! At this time of day.
Wait a minute!I needed the nap. I was the one up at all hours of the night with her, but I felt wide awake now.
Dont you need to work? I called after him.
Yeah. But Im out of ideas right now. I need to generate something. Better refuel. Ah! The beauty of working from home. He disappeared from sight.
Suddenly I felt sad. A little lonely somehow.
I started on a set of lunges.
Funny how I craved alone time, and now that I had it, I felt lonely.
I gave up on the lunges and walked down the hallway to our bedroom. Margaret called. She wants to hire me, I said.
Who? Jim asked.
Tutu, I said.
Jim laughed. He had already climbed into bed and was cuddling Laurie, who was lying on top of him. What does she want to hire you as?
What do you mean? As a PI.
Jim snorted. PI? You dont have a license.
