A Witch Called Wanda (iWitch Mystery Book 1)

by Diana Orgain

  As soon as I connected all the tubes, bottles, and breasts, the phone rang. I disconnected everything with a sigh and picked up the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom said.

  “How do you know something is wrong?”

  “I can tell by the way you said ‘hello.’”

  “Mmm.”

  “What is it?”

  Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “I have to go back to work on Monday and I can’t help it, but I feel guilty for having to leave Laurie. I wish I’d never gotten involved with this stupid PI thing. I wasted my whole maternity leave running around, instead of being with her.”

  “You were with her the entire time.”

  “I’m stupid. I should have solved the thing much sooner, and then at least I could have slept.”

  “You’re not stupid, honey. Besides, nobody sleeps with a newborn.”

  “I don’t even have enough milk stocked up,” I wailed. “I’m a total failure!”

  Mom laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

  “Kate, if you’re a failure, what about the rest of us?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kate, you accomplish more in a day than most of us do in a week. When you tried to launch your business, you were taking a chance. A murderer is behind bars because of you. Don’t feel guilty about having to leave Laurie for a little while each day when you go to the office. She’s going to be fine. Lots of mothers work.”

  “But I want to be with her.” Tears slid down my face.

  “And you will. Darling, just because you have to go back to the office right now, it doesn’t make it permanent. Jim’s going to find work soon. And you never know. You might be able to find another client. Building a business takes time. It’s like having a baby. You can’t have the baby in a month, even if you are really really good. It takes nine months. Do you understand?”

  “I know you’re right, but I can’t help feeling sorry for myself. Am I allowed that?” I asked.

  “No. You are not allowed to wallow! You have a beautiful, healthy daughter, a husband who loves you, and at least you have a job to go back to. Some people don’t have any of that, Kate. Feeling sorry for yourself would be selfish and petty, and I know you’re not either of those.”

  I wiped the tears from my face. “Moms always know best, huh? I love you.”

  “I know you do, and now that you have a daughter of your own, you know how much I love you.”

  Laurie let out a wail from the other room. “I gotta go, Mom. The alarm is going off.”

  <><><>

  I drove up the now-familiar driveway to Mrs. Avery’s beautiful house. She surprised me by greeting me in the driveway.

  When the car stopped moving, Laurie immediately awoke and began to kick and flail about, protesting. I hopped out of the car, unsnapped the car seat straps, and held her in my arms. She was still fussing as I made my way toward Mrs. Avery. One small pink shoe wiggled off, and I sighed as I looked at it on the ground. Mrs. Avery held her arms open to receive Laurie. I handed her over, and she instantly stopped fussing.

  “You have a way with her. She was so excited to see you, she kicked her shoe off,” I said, stooping over and picking it up.

  Mrs. Avery took the shoe from me and slipped it back onto Laurie’s foot.

  “We found your son’s murderer,” I said.

  “I know,” she said. “Inspector McNearny called me this morning.”

  “He did?” I asked, surprised. Even though I had put off this moment, I was disappointed not to be the one breaking the news to her. “I’m sorry he beat me to the punch. We had a late night last night.”

  “Don’t apologize! I have closure. Come inside. I rarely drink, although today I think I’m going to have a small glass of champagne. What would you like?”

  “I shouldn’t have any alcohol. I’m breastfeeding,” I added as way of explanation.

  “One drink won’t hurt.” Mrs. Avery tsked. “Besides, we need to have something to toast a job well done. Brad would have wanted that.”

  She called Marta and requested a bottle of Dom Perignon.

  Well, in that case!

  As Mrs. Avery poured the champagne, I filled her in on the pertinent details about KelliAnn. We both wept as I told her about Penny.

  When we had finished crying, Mrs. Avery pulled out a checkbook.

  “You found my son and my granddaughter’s killer. I’ll always be indebted to you. Please accept this.”

  She handed me a check for twice the amount due. “Consider it a little bonus for bringing the nasty drug business to my attention. You didn’t really think I could have been involved, right?”

  “Only for a moment.”

  <><><>

  I drove home with the bonus check burning a hole in my pocket. I couldn’t believe Mrs. Avery had been so generous. It would help pay our mortgage until Jim found a new job.

  I waited for Jim to come home, to share the news. I was able to pump out another entire three ounces. Now I had five ounces in the freezer. I was starting to feel proud of myself—only twenty-seven ounces to go to get to the recommended thirty-two-ounce supply. Maybe over the weekend I’d be able to squeeze out a few more ounces, and then at least Jim would be able to give Laurie breast milk the first day I was back at the office.

  I looked in my closet, peering desperately at my wardrobe, wondering what I would wear to work on Monday. I tried on a couple of outfits and got even more disheartened. The only things that fit comfortably were my maternity clothes. When was that supposed to change?

  This morning, at my six-week appointment, Dr. Greene said I could begin working out again. I knew I needed to schedule gym time and abdominal work, yet I felt so tired all the time. Breastfeeding was taking its toll on me, and I wondered with a pang how long I would be able to do it.

  I searched the floor of my closet for my shoes. What a joke. None of those fit either.

  Dr. Greene had also said that my bones would go back into place, whatever that meant. Was that really going to happen? Would my size seven Nine West shoes ever fit?

  And what would I do in the meantime?

  I slipped into the unattractive size eight wide flats I’d been forced to wear during my pregnancy. They fit fine, which served only to make me feel awful, bloated, and unattractive.

  Laurie was sound asleep, and I wondered if she would enjoy a trip to the mall with me. I heard the front door open. Within seconds, Jim was in the kitchen picking me up in his arms.

  “My God! What’s going on?”

  He kissed my face all over. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

  “I love you, too,” I said. “What’s going on?” I repeated, then added, “And shhh, you’re going to wake the baby.”

  “She can be awake! We’re a family! Go get her, get her, get her,” he said excitedly, running his words together so they sounded like “gethergethergether.”

  “I’m not going to wake a sleeping baby,” I said firmly.

  Jim laughed. “Come on.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said sternly, trying to hold back my laughter.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Jim said, disappointed. “Guess what?” he asked, excited again.

  “The interview went well?” I asked hopefully.

  “Forget the interview,” Jim said.

  “What?”

  Jim took a deep breath. “Dirk Jonson called me. I got the account!”

  My stomach flip-flopped.

  “It’s big, Kate. The account is big,” Jim said, a smile crossing his face. “In fact, it’s huge! We’re set for at least a year. Look at this.” He pulled the contract out of his briefcase.

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “What does that mean?” I said, indicating the six-figure number on the page.

  “That’s the amount I’m going to get paid. Me. Not the firm that fired me. But me.”

  I nearly choked. “You’re going to get paid this amount? For what?”

 
“For doing what I always do. Creating an ad campaign. I’ve already come up with a lot of it. Check out my proposal.”

  Jim flipped through the pages of the contract, until he got to some pictures.

  “Oh, my God. My husband’s a genius!”

  Jim laughed. “The genius part was getting fired from my old firm.”

  “Getting fired turns out to be a good thing?”

  “I’ll make four times as much as an independent contractor.”

  “Does this mean I don’t have to go to the office on Monday?”

  Jim smiled. “That’s right, honey,” he said, stroking my hair. “That’s exactly what it means.”

  To Do:

  1. Quit Job.

  ~THE END~

  ***

  More titles by Diana Orgain

  MOTHERHOOD IS MURDER

  Book 2 of the MATERNAL INSTINCTS MYSTERY SERIES

  © 2010 Diana Orgain

  Nights out are hard to come by for new parents. So when Kate’s new- mommy club, Roo & You, holds a dinner cruise, she and her husband leave baby Laurie with Kate’s mom and join the grown-ups for some fine dining on the San Francisco Bay.

  But when one of the cofounders of Roo & You takes a fatal spill down a staircase, the police department crashes the party. Suddenly every mom and her man has a motive. Kate’s on deck to solve the mystery- but a killer’s determined to make her rue the day she joined the first-time-mom’s club...

  Enjoy the following excerpt for MOTHERHOOD IS MURDER

  •CHAPTER ONE•

  At Sea

  To Do:

  1. Buy diapers.

  2. Make Laurie’s two-month check.

  3. Find good “how to” book for PI business.

  4. x Find dress for the cruise.

  5. x Ask Mom to babysit.

  6. Exercise.

  I stared into the bathroom mirror and wondered how I’d failed to bring a hairbrush along on the San Francisco Bay dinner cruise. I ran my hands down the length of my mop, trying to tame the frizzies. If I put a little water on the problem, would it help or make it worse?

  The door to the restroom flew open. Sara, one of the moms from my new mommy group, appeared. She looked worse than I did. Her lipstick was smudged and her hair had the volume of a lion’s mane.

  “Oh my God! Kate! I didn’t know you were here.” She took a step back toward the door, then hesitated, looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  She was so prim and proper at dinner. Probably doesn’t like to be seen looking so rumpled, but hey, if you can’t look bad in the ladies room then there’s no safe haven.

  Sara ran her hands along the front of her black cocktail dress, which was wrinkled and wet, then squinted at her reflection. She jumped into action, grabbing a paper towel and fixing the smeared lipstick. “Your husband’s been looking everywhere for you. The captain’s called an ‘all hands on deck.’”

  “My hands too?” I asked, wiggling my fingers under the faucet to activate the automatic water flow.

  Sara scrunched her mouth in disapproval.

  “I guess I’m not up on ship rules,” I said to her reflection.

  “Everyone has to go back to their tables, now!” She grabbed another paper towel and frantically scrubbed at the wet section of her dress.

  I stopped fussing with my hair and shifted my gaze from Sara’s reflection to Sara.

  If everyone was supposed to be back to their tables, what was she doing here?

  “Why?” I asked.

  “There’s been an accident.”

  Goose bumps rose on my arms. “What kind of accident?”

  “Helene fell down the back staircase.” Sara motioned me toward the door. “Come on, come on.

  <><><>

  We made our way through a dimly lit corridor toward the main dining hall. The cruise ship held roughly seventy-five passengers although tonight it was only about half full.

  The change in atmosphere was immediately noticeable. Not to mention eerie. The dance floor was empty and the music was off. We crossed the bar area, which moments ago had been packed, and hurried to our dining table.

  Most of the passengers were seated at their tables. The chatter that had animated the room was subdued.

  I spotted Jim standing alone at our table, gripping the back of his chair. He surveyed the room. When he saw me, his expression relaxed a notch, going from grim to serious.

  I hurried to him and reached for his hand.

  He embraced me. “Kate! I was worried.”

  “I need to find my husband,” Sara said as she rushed past us and headed for the main stairwell.

  “What’s happened? Sara said Helene fell down some steps. Is it serious?”

  “I’m not sure. The captain asked everyone to return to their dining tables. Didn’t you hear him on the microphone? Where’ve you been?”

  Before I could answer my elbow was jogged by Evelyn, another mommy from our group.

  She was eight months pregnant with her second child. Her blonde hair was pinned neatly back, and her green eyes flashed enhanced by the lime scarf she wore. The scarf was arranged to draw the eye toward her protruding belly, which she proudly stroked.

  “Kate! How awful! Did you hear about Helene?” Her lips curled a bit, almost as if she were suppressing a smile.

  Why was she smiling? Almost gloating.

  “Sort of. Is she all right?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the captain’s voice boomed over the microphone. “Please take your seats. We will be a bit delayed in docking in San Francisco due to an unfortunate accident aboard. The U.S. Coast Guard will be joining us shortly. Thank you in advance for your full cooperation.”

  Evelyn squeezed my elbow and flitted off to gather her husband. Jim pulled my chair out for me.

  “Coast Guard? What’s going on?” I asked.

  Jim’s lips formed a line. “I was at the bar getting a Bud, when the brunette –”

  “Sara, Miss No-Nonsense?”

  “No. The other one, the one with the...with the...” Jim waved his hands around. “Fluffy dress.”

  I nodded. “Margaret.”

  Margaret was wearing a ballet tutu. I wish I could say it looked as ridiculous as it sounded, but the truth was it looked fabulous. Margaret was super tall, pencil thin, and had shapely legs. She looked as if she could have stepped out of a children’s book – a cartoon

  character with spindly spider legs and a ruffle at her waist. But the gold top and shoes added something indescribable to the outfit. Making the cartoon Olive Oyl look glamorous and runwayish.

  “Yeah, Margaret,” Jim continued. “She ran up to us, looking a little dazed, and said

  Helene fell down the back staircase. Said she was unconscious –”

  “Unconscious?” I felt a shiver run down my spine.

  Jim pulled out my dining chair. “The captain asked if there was a doctor on board.”

  I sat down and let him push my chair in.

  We were the only ones at our table. Earlier, we had dined with all the parents from my new mothers’ group: Sara, Helene, Margaret, Evelyn and their husbands.

  We had christened them: Sara was Miss No-Nonsense; Helene was Lean and Mean,

  Margaret was Tutu, and Evelyn was Preggers. We referred to the husbands as Cardboard Cutout

  Numbers 1 through 4.

  Now, it felt almost irreverent to have given everyone a nickname.

  “Where is everybody?” asked Jim.

  I shrugged. “Helene, we know about, so her husband is probably with her, right? Wasn’t

  Margaret’s husband –”

  “Alan?”

  “Yeah, Alan, isn’t he a doctor?”

  Jim frowned. “A podiatrist.”

  “Okay. Well, med school and all. Maybe she twisted her ankle. Did you see the heels she was wearing?”

  Jim tried to hide his smirk by sipping his beer.

  I pushed his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

/>   “You. We just heard that Helene may be unconscious and you’re worrying about her shoes!”

  “I’m not worried about her shoes! I’m wondering what happened to her and where everybody is. I mean, the woman practically kills herself wearing some ungodly high heels, just to please some man, who probably laughed at her –”

  Margaret descended the main staircase and closed the distance on our table. I cut myself off despite Jim’s snickers into his beer. She raised her hand in acknowledgment and sat down grim-faced.

  “Where’s Alan?” I asked.

  “With Helene,” she answered.

  I shot Jim a smug look, which he ignored.

  “How is she?” Jim asked.

  Margaret’s eyes clouded over and she shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

  We sat in awkward silence. I perused the other three tables in the dining room. The parties at each table were as somber as we were. The four-hour dinner cruise on the San Francisco Bay had now been delayed indeterminately and nobody looked pleased about it.

  Margaret fiddled with a cocktail glass that lingered beside her half eaten dessert. She lifted the glass and examined the contents. Only two melting ice cubes remained. She stirred them with her straw, hoping, I suppose, to release any vodka that might be clinging to them.

  After a moment of disappointing results, she returned the glass to the table. Her eyes flicked toward the bar.

  “Can I get you anything?” Jim asked.

  Margaret flushed. “No. God, no. Thank you.” She picked up her discarded navy cloth napkin and wrung it.

  From the main staircase Sara and her husband approached. Behind them Evelyn and her husband were struggling to keep up. Evelyn had one hand on her pregnant belly and the other on her husband’s shoulder. They took their places at our table in silence. The men smelled of cigar smoke and looked relaxed. In contrast, both women had pinched expressions.

  Now, there were only three vacant spots at our table. Helene’s, her husband’s, and Alan’s. My eyes fell on Helene’s empty spot. Sara gave me a tight smile, then put her hand on Margaret’s to stop her fidgeting.

  “Everything will be fine, you’ll see,” Sara said to Margaret.

  Margaret lowered her eyes and nodded.