Motherhood Is Murder mim-2

by Diana Orgain

  “I don’t know. Another week?”

  “The ME doesn’t normally do a tox screen.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Kid, I’ve been doing this a long time. Believe me, the ME and I are buds, we golf together, we smoke cigars together, we drink brandy together. The ME’s job is to shut a case as quickly as possible. Tox screens take time and cost taxpayers’ money. They normally don’t do ’em unless they’re pressed.”

  The waitress arrived with our lunches. The smell of garlic wafted over to me from Galigani’s plate.

  “Wow! Your shrimp looks delicious,” I said. “I should have ordered that.”

  Galigani scooped a portion of his serving on my plate. “We’ll split it.”

  I pushed half of my peanut satay onto his plate. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying about the ME,” I said.

  Galigani wrapped noodles around his fork. “Someone pushed him for the tox screen. But why? I can ask him. And I can get a copy of the records. You want me to do that?”

  “Could you? That would be great. Gary Barramendi is going to share Bruce’s file with—”

  Galigani dropped his fork. “Barramendi is sharing info with you?”

  I shrugged. “I guess so. Bruce asked him to anyway.”

  Galigani guffawed. “Kid, if you get in with Barramendi, your career is set!”

  “What do you mean?”

  Galigani looked at me as if I was from outer space. “He’s the highest-profile criminal defense attorney on the West Coast. He’s always featured on CNN, MSNBC, and FOX News. Didn’t you know that?”

  I shook my head.

  Galigani laughed. “Good God, Kate. Talk about beginner’s luck. I don’t know how you do it!”

  “Now you’re making me nervous! Do what?”

  “I tried for years to work with Barramendi’s office. Of course, former cop and defense guys don’t normally make nice. So it’s no surprise that we never connected. But this guy, if he likes you, can give you regular PI cases, make you a media darling, completely fast-track your career. Just don’t mention my name.”

  Now it was my turn to drop my fork. “Why can’t I mention your name? I’m working under your license, right?”

  “Sure. I’ll fill out the paperwork and you can work for me under my license. But don’t make a big deal out of it to Barramendi. Like I said, I’m a former cop.”

  “Something else has been bothering me,” I said.

  Galigani waited for me to continue.

  “McNearny and Jones were at Helene’s funeral.”

  “Sure,” Galigani said. “Especially if your client called the ME and told them she suspected something. That would have raised a flag for them and then homicide would want to go to the services to take a look around.”

  “But she called after the funeral.”

  Galigani played with his mustache. “They could have been there because of the fight . . . Uniforms took statements from everyone on the boat, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s see if I can poke around and get some info, they know something we don’t,” Galigani said.

  When I arrived home, Jim handed off a howling Laurie and a UPS package to me.

  I tried to juggle Laurie while reading the label on the package. It was my girdle! A few weeks ago, I couldn’t imagine getting so excited about a girdle—but here I was practically giddy.

  Laurie continued to fuss.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked Jim.

  He shrugged. “I wish I knew. She’s fed, has a clean diaper, and hasn’t stopped crying for at least fifteen minutes.”

  I cuddled Laurie to me and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. The rubbing coaxed an enormous burp out of her, which suddenly silenced her.

  Jim looked shocked. “Oh.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “You remembered to feed her, but forgot about the burping thing?”

  Jim matched my expression. “Apparently.”

  I laughed.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” he said. “I was starting to get worried. How was lunch?”

  “We had Thai. It was great.” I passed the UPS package to Jim. “Can you open this for me?”

  Jim ripped open the package and pulled the girdle out. “What is this?”

  I launched into a dissertation about the benefits of “binding” one’s tummy after childbirth.

  Jim seemed stunned by my passion on the subject. From our office/nursery we heard his cell phone ring. He passed the girdle to me and went to answer the phone.

  I shuffled to our bedroom and laid Laurie down in her bassinet. She immediately protested, but not so persistently as to deter me from trying on the girdle.

  I read the instructions and opened the package, but before I could try it on, Jim came into the room.

  “That was Dirk Jonson. He wants to meet tomorrow over lunch, said he loved my concepts.”

  Dirk was the reason I could even try my hand at this PI business. Now I had a meeting with the top dog of criminal defense at the same time Dirk had called a meeting with Jim. My husband, yes, but also my primary babysitter, and with Mom in Mexico, what could I do?

  Lugging Laurie around would look completely unprofessional, wouldn’t it?

  “Oh. I’m supposed to—”

  “Sorry, honey, I need to go polish up some stuff for them.” He headed out of the room. “What’s for dinner?”

  Uh. Dinner.

  “I’ll think of something,” I called after him.

  I dialed Paula and told her about my meeting with Gary Barramendi.

  Paula practically screamed in my ear. “A media darling! Kate, you have to go!”

  “But I have to watch Laurie.”

  “Are you crazy? I’ll watch her. Swing her by here. I’ll be home all day with my little beast. No problem.”

  “But you’re pregnant.”

  “So?” Paula demanded.

  “I don’t want to put a seven-week-old burden on a pregnant lady!”

  “Shut up. I can handle your little cherub with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “Wait . . . um . . . Does Danny bite?”

  “No! Don’t worry, I would never let Danny bite Laurie. Why do you ask?”

  “One of the moms got kicked out of Roo amp; You because her kid bit a baby.”

  “Really? Isn’t that kinda harsh? Don’t all kids do things at one point or another that you can’t control? We try our best, but sometimes, girl, the kids are not your own.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe there was more to it. She’s pretty pushy. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow and thank you!”

  “Okay, no prob,” Paula said.

  “Hey, Paula, one more thing . . .”

  “What?”

  “Galigani told me not to mention his name when I was with ‘The Grizzly,’ so what do I do if he asks about my license?”

  “Hmm. Tell him you applied for a license and are waiting on the paperwork to be processed.”

  “Lie?”

  “That’s not a lie. It’s a petite misrepresentation of the facts.”

  “I haven’t applied for a license. It’s a bald-faced lie.”

  “The guy is criminal defense—you think he cares about one tiny misstatement?”

  I sighed. “You’re impossible.”

  Paula laughed. “See you tomorrow. Make sure to look sharp. That’ll distract him and secure your rightful destiny as a media darling.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Grizzly

  To Do:

  1. Meet with Gary Barramendi.

  2. Shop for shoes.

  3. Practice some recipes for Thanksgiving.

  4. Groceries.

  5. Laurie—need the memento book—already missed milestone!

  I’d had a fitful night. Tossing and turning while Laurie was sound asleep and then finally drifting off just as she would wake for a feeding. While I nursed her, I contemplated my restlessness.

  I was definitely nervous about meeting with Mr. Barramendi, but was that all? No, the weight of the case was getting to me. And now to make matters worse, I’d have to lie to Barramendi about Galigani or avoid the topi
c altogether.

  I had never been good at lying. Something people find hard to believe as soon as they discover I have an acting degree. But acting is different. You take on the role of a character. You’re not actually lying about yourself.

  And then again. Wait.

  Yes. Tomorrow I would play the part of a character. I would meet with Barramendi as my “future self.” A self-assured, successful PI. A licensed PI.

  In the morning I woke with a start to the alarm. Laurie was still asleep and Jim was getting dressed for his meeting. He stood in front of our closet examining dress shirts.

  “Good morning,” I said, propping myself up in bed.

  “Hi, honey. I made coffee,” Jim said.

  “Thank you.”

  Jim selected a blue striped dress shirt and put it on.

  He looked great. My mind immediately snapped to what I was going to wear. Did anything fit?

  As soon as Jim said good-bye, I jumped to the task of getting ready.

  First I nursed and burped Laurie then laid her back in the bassinet. She was still awake but seemed content to study a white bunny rattle that I handed her.

  I stopped suddenly; today Laurie was two months old!

  I picked her up out of the bassinet. “Oh! My darling!” I squeezed her to me. “Two months already. So short a time and yet it feels like you’ve been part of my life forever.”

  Laurie cooed and attempted to put the bunny rattle into her mouth.

  “You like the bunny? Mommy’s going to get you something for your . . . what? Second month birthday? Okay, that works.” I kissed Laurie’s head and put her down.

  Need to add shopping for Laurie to the to-do list!

  Next I showered, then pulled out my new girdle and wrapped it around myself. It was simple enough to use. It wrapped around my tummy and hips and fastened on the side with a long Velcro fitting.

  I positioned it in place and frantically started going through items in my closet. I found a favorite burgundy silk blouse and tried it on. To my astonishment, it fit nicely. I then selected some trousers. The first three pairs I tried on were way too tight, but the fourth pair worked.

  Way to go, girdle!

  Shoes?

  Ah. Another problem!

  My postpartum feet didn’t fit any of my pre-Laurie shoes. I finally found some loafers that would barely pass.

  I glanced at the clock. I needed to get Laurie loaded into the car and out of the house in the next few minutes if I was going to be on time, and I still needed to pack her diaper bag.

  Why hadn’t I packed the stupid diaper bag last night?

  I hurried to do my hair and makeup.

  At least Laurie was now sound asleep; that would be a help in getting out the door. I ran to the freezer and found a few bags of frozen milk. Just over 4 ounces. Enough for one feeding.

  Darn. I needed to build up a bigger supply if I was going to have to keep leaving Laurie with a sitter. Another thing to add to my list!

  I hustled Laurie into the car. She barely roused. Why didn’t she sleep like this for me? Why only when I left her with someone?

  I drove to Paula’s and pulled into her driveway like a madwoman.

  I unclipped the car seat from the base and grabbed the diaper bag, lugging the entire load up Paula’s front steps.

  Paula opened the door ensconced in a violet terry robe.

  “Good morning!” I said, pushing my way past her and into the entrance to unburden my arms.

  Paula let out a low whistle. “Look at you, girl! You are looking hot!”

  “Thanks. It takes effort now, you know.”

  Paula laughed. “Oh yeah! Hey, what’s up with your shoes?”

  I glanced down at my loafers and shrugged. “They’re what fit.”

  Paula tsked. “Oh no. Follow me.”

  Paula retreated down the hallway. I looked at Laurie sound asleep in her car seat. I quickly put my hand on her and felt reassured by the rise and fall of her belly.

  I walked down the hallway to Paula’s bedroom, stopping first to peek in on Danny. Paula had hand painted the room in baby blue with a mural of Thomas the Tank Engine on one wall. Sure looked a lot more inviting than Laurie’s nursery that doubled as Jim’s and my office.

  I worried about having the computer in Laurie’s nursery. Was it giving off any weird energy waves that I should be concerned about?

  Add that to my to-do list: look up safety of computers in nursery!

  Currently, she was spending the night in our room in her portable bassinet, but soon she would outgrow that and have to sleep down the hall. My heart dropped. She would be down the hall! So far away from me.

  A big kid in her crib in her own room.

  I peered over at Danny asleep in his crib. I marveled at how long he appeared; it seemed like only yesterday he had been an infant like Laurie.

  I touched his soft hair. “Hey, buddy, you’re gonna be a big brother soon.”

  He was fidgeting a bit and his mouth started to move as though he wanted to nurse or have a pacifier. Still asleep, his hand shot to his mouth and he started sucking his thumb.

  “You’re still a baby, too! I love you, little buddy.” I pulled his blanket up around him and headed toward Paula’s bedroom.

  I found her digging in her closet.

  “Size?” she asked.

  “Pre-Laurie was seven.”

  “So eight?” Paula asked from inside the closet.

  “I guess. I’m still trying to come to terms with it.”

  Paula laughed and rummaged deeper into the closet.

  “I have some frozen breast milk for Laurie in the diaper bag. She could be hungry when she wakes up. I also brought some formula, just in case I’m not back in time for the feeding after that. Oh, shoot . . .”

  “What?” Paula asked from inside the closet.

  “I didn’t think about a purse. All my gear, my wallet, cell phone, notebook, and stuff is in the diaper bag.”

  Paula emerged from the closet with the classiest pair of Ferragamo burgundy pumps I’d ever seen. They matched my blouse exactly. I gasped.

  Paula grimaced. “Just my luck. I was a size eight pre-Danny, now I’m a nine, so you can have them.”

  I grabbed her around the neck and kissed her cheek, then slipped into the shoes. They felt simply divine. “Ooh, I feel so in!”

  She laughed as she kicked the loafers I’d been wearing across the room. “Well, those are definitely out.”

  “I’m matchy-matchy now!” I exclaimed. “You are a lifesaver!”

  Paula let out a self-satisfied sigh. “I know. And you don’t even know the half of it. I have the matching bag for you.”

  She reached inside the closet and pulled out the purse. A lovely handbag that was large enough for my notebook, but sleek enough to belong to a media darling.

  I sighed. “Paula! It’s beautiful.”

  “You know my thing about bags and shoes.”

  I studied my reflection in the mirror, posing with the shoes and holding the handbag to me. “I look like I can fake it, huh?”

  Paula smiled widely. “Of course, girlfriend! Fake it ’til you make it.”

  When I arrived at Gary Barramendi’s office, I was greeted by a receptionist, who had on a Dior suit and more expensive shoes than I did. Her honey-colored hair was pinned at the sides and down in the back, framing her round young face. She looked to be in her early twenties. She assured me she would let Gary know I had arrived and showed me to a waiting room.

  The waiting room boasted huge windows with a glorious view of Alcatraz. There was a station with coffee, tea, and water in the corner of the room, and in the center were several high-back chairs near a table covered with magazines.

  On the wall opposite the windows a full-length mirror reflected views of Alcatraz throughout the room. But instead of focusing me on the view, it focused me on the image of me.

  I had forgotten to put breast pads inside my bra.

  Oh God! What if I leaked!

  I pulled the door of the waiting room open and peeked out into the ha
llway. No trace of the receptionist or anyone else, but a ladies’ room sign was prominent. I made a mad dash into the ladies’ room and quickly pulled some tissues from a box on the marbled counter.