Motherhood Is Murder mim-2

by Diana Orgain

  Was it really appropriate to leave it out? After all, I didn’t have any control over who was guilty. I really just wanted justice.

  I checked my news update feed. The riots downtown were escalating and hundreds of arrests had been made. Before I logged off, I refreshed my e-mail. A response from Gary had arrived in my inbox.

  Kate,

  Tail Celia, see if she leads you to Howard. Maybe he’s our guy.

  G

  I sat outside Celia’s center in Kenny’s van. Jim had agreed to watch Laurie for the afternoon and I was determined to find out one way or another if Celia was seeing Howard.

  To kill time, I dialed Paula and recounted for her the swimming story. She was much more sympathetic to Laurie’s being blacklisted than Jim had been.

  “Where are you now?” she asked.

  “Outside the midwife center waiting for her to lead me to her lover, Howard.”

  Paula laughed.

  “What?”

  “Is that guy, Howard, attractive?”

  “Sort of. Irish guy, light-colored eyes, good bod, you know, construction and all. Why?”

  “I guess I imagine her with a sexy Latin guy, like a

  ‘José,’ not a ‘Howard,’ but that’s probably because she’s Latin and from Miami.”

  “She’s not from Miami, she’s from L.A.”

  “Really? She told me she was from Miami,” Paula said.

  Suddenly I recalled Margaret telling me that she met Celia in Miami, the same day the photo was taken of her family on the beach.

  Why would Celia tell me she was from L.A.? Why lie? Or had it been inadvertent? Lots of people in the Bay Area were transplants, and when asked from where, they didn’t give a laundry list of all the places they’d ever lived.

  That was probably it. She’d lived in L.A. before or after Miami, no matter.

  Miami?

  Why did that stick out in my mind?

  I recalled the news item I’d read on Google, the missing expectant mom on her way to a midwife . . . in Miami.

  “Paula, I need you to look something up for me.”

  I gave her as much search criteria as I could to find the news story, then hung up, but before I released my phone, it rang.

  “Kate! It’s Kenny, guess what?”

  He sounded as though he’d won the lottery.

  “The Opera called. The principal trombonist is sick. I get my chance to perform tonight!”

  “That’s fantastic!” I said.

  “I need my van. I’m sorry. I would take the streetcar, but all my gear is in the van.”

  That would blow my stakeout.

  “Oh. Hey, I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t you go over to my place and get my keys from Jim. You can drive out here in my car and we’ll swap.”

  “That works!” Kenny said cheerfully, ringing off.

  The San Francisco Opera.

  I was proud of him. He deserved it. What a good kid!

  I imagined Laurie all grown up and playing in the San Francisco Opera.

  What instrument would she play? Maybe the violin?

  She did have long fingers. Perhaps the piano.

  I put my cell phone away in my diaper purse and rummaged past Laurie’s puppy for a piece of gum. For fun I pressed the puppy’s ear and listened to Laurie’s recorded coos. I listened to the playback about a dozen times.

  What in the world was I doing here?

  This was ridiculous. I should be home with munchkin and Daddy.

  A blue car turned the corner and rolled down the street past me. I strained to get a look at the driver. I watched in the rearview mirror as the car pulled up to the center doors. I was parked down the street, hoping I was far enough to be tucked out of view.

  The center doors opened and Celia rushed out to the car.

  Could it be Howard?

  Come on, come on. I need a break here!

  Celia helped the driver out. It was Evelyn! She was hunched over. Celia held her as she rocked back and forth.

  Oh my gosh! Evelyn was in labor. She was going to have her baby!

  After a few moments Evelyn stood straight up. Celia helped her to the center and looked down the block.

  Had she seen the van?

  Oh, well. Not like she’d be running off to see Howard now. May as well head home and knock some items off my to-do list.

  Wait, Kenny was on his way here. I grabbed my phone to see if I could reach him. If I could catch him before he left, then I wouldn’t be stuck here waiting for him.

  I dug around my bag for my phone. I dialed Kenny but got his voice mail. I started to text him when I heard a car start.

  I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Evelyn’s car zooming toward me. Celia was driving.

  Wait.

  Where was she going in Evelyn’s car? What about Evelyn in labor? Maybe Celia was simply reparking the car.

  I studied the spot where the car had been. It looked like a legal spot.

  My phone rang in my hand. I glanced at the caller ID. Paula.

  “Did you find anything?”

  “I did!” She was breathless. “I found the story, and then I called the paper and spoke to the writer. She was able to look up the midwife’s name for me. Get this. Cecelia Martinez.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Labor

  Cecelia Martinez?

  What did this mean? I knew her as Celia Martin—certainly that was an alias . . . or was it all a coincidence?

  Wait! When I had been at the hospital, the nurse had called her Martinez. Yes! She’d said that.

  “Kate. What do you know about that adoption she was arranging?” Paula asked.

  My throat felt thick. It was difficult to breathe. “No. They can’t be related. The story in Miami is more than a couple years old, right? Bruce and Helene were going to adopt a newborn, Celia’s cousin’s baby. I saw Helene’s plane ticket from SFO to Costa Rica. There were notes about traveling with an infant.”

  I recalled the moms at La Petite Grenouille this afternoon discussing plane travel. Children over two years old needed their own ticket.

  “Wait. What did you say?” Paula asked. “Did you say SFO to Costa Rica?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why would she be traveling with an infant from SFO? Wouldn’t she be traveling there solo and then flying back with the baby?”

  I needed air. I cracked open the window and felt a breeze hit my face.

  “Oh my God! They were going to steal a baby. Celia and Helene were going to steal a baby. I’m sure of it. Only maybe Helene had changed her mind. She canceled the construction plans and was going to leave Bruce. She was going to live with Alan and fight for custody of his children. It’s all making sense now!”

  Celia was driving Evelyn’s car away to hide it. Make it look like Evelyn had never arrived.

  Evelyn. Her baby! I had to get to her.

  I started the engine and drove down the street to the front of the birthing center. One tire popped the curb but I didn’t care, I slammed the transmission into park.

  “But you said Celia wasn’t on the cruise!” Paula said.

  I swung the van door open and reflexively put the strap of the diaper bag on my shoulder. “She wasn’t.”

  “Then she couldn’t have slipped something in Helene’s drink if she wasn’t even there. And then what about poisoning herself? I mean, do you think that was a suicide attempt—”

  “No! Her dose wasn’t lethal. Galigani told me that—”

  Suddenly a hand reached into the van and gripped my hair. So fierce was the grip that it literally launched me out of my seat. My cell phone fell out of my hand. I gripped my bag to me and screamed, “Paula! Call 9-1-1.”

  A kick found its way to my ribs and I doubled over in excruciating pain.

  Had she heard me?

  Would Paula call 9-1-1 or would she think the call had simply dropped?

  My assaulter screamed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing parked in front of my center?”

  Celia!

  Images of the riots on TV flashed in my mind. All of SFPD
would be downtown. Was there anyone available to respond to a 9-1-1 call?

  Celia’s knee crashed into my face and she seemed to be pushing me back or was I retreating?

  Laurie’s face filled my mind and I swung the diaper bag as hard as I could into Celia’s side. She blocked my blow, grabbing the bag out of my hands and pushing me into the birthing center. I landed on the cool marble floor, out of breath and in pain. She threw the bag at me.

  Kenny!

  Kenny was on his way!

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Celia’s leg move back, gaining momentum for another kick. I rolled out of the way. Her miss only served to infuriate her further; she came at me and drew her leg back for another swipe. This time I was ready. As her leg swung forward, I grabbed it and pulled her off balance.

  She struck the floor hard and I scrambled to my feet.

  Could I make it out the door and back to the van?

  Celia screamed and pushed herself up as I sprinted toward the door. She hurled herself at me, yelling obscenities.

  When would Kenny be here?

  Fifteen minutes at least. My cell phone was on the street. I had no backup. No weapon, no nothing.

  Celia was punching at me and I was scrambling as best as I could to get out of her way.

  “The cops are on their way,” I bluffed.

  “Liar!” she screamed, knocking into me and throwing me off balance. “You’re going to ruin everything!”

  I fell to the floor. This time she came with me, landing on top of me hard and knocking the wind out of me.

  She put her knee between my shoulder blades and pinned my arms behind my hand. “You should have stayed out of it,” she said.

  Adrenaline shot through me and suddenly I was so furious that I wrung my arms out of her grip and launched myself to my feet. She fell back, momentarily stunned.

  Fury boiled up inside me and I flung myself down on her—wrestler style—screaming, “You killed that woman in Miami and took her baby. You sold her baby! You killed her and sold her baby!”

  Celia pushed at me repeatedly. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

  “That’s how you got the money for this remodel!”

  She shoved me into the reception console. A packet that had been on top of the counter went flying. My eyes followed it as it landed on the floor. Patches. It was a bunch of medicine patches.

  Her face contorted. “And I’m going to kill you!” she spat. “Just like I killed her!” She dove for the package.

  The patches.

  The drug had been on the nicotine patches. It had never been in a drink. Celia hadn’t needed to be present in order to poison Helene!

  Animal instinct overtook me. I pressed against the counter and propelled myself forward through the air, landing on top of her. I pounded my fist into her face. Blood poured from her nose.

  “You broke my nose!” she screamed.

  My face was wet and I realized I was crying. “You were following me the other day! Your yellow VW bug. You almost crashed into me!”

  My hand stung and my body ached, but I wasn’t weeping from the physical pain. I was weeping for fear of my life and grief for the lives lost at the hands of this woman.

  Celia twisted to the side and knocked me off her. She scrambled to reach the patches.

  I reached the packet before her. “You killed Helene with the patches and you tried to pin it on Bruce by poisoning yourself!”

  She slammed her elbow into my side. The packet flew out of my hands as I tried to defend myself against another onslaught.

  Celia punched at my face screaming, “You’re damn right I killed her. She was backing out. First she wanted Evelyn’s baby then she didn’t.”

  Evelyn!

  She punched at me again, this time landing a blow to the side of my head.

  My vision blurred.

  “After all I went through to get things arranged for her,” Celia spat. “Then she falls in love with that stupid foot doc—wants his kids instead. And what? I’m supposed to be left high and dry? No. Plenty of buyers for that baby. And like I’m going to let her turn me in?”

  She pushed at me. I blocked her.

  I heard a voice coming from the birth room.

  I had to get to Evelyn. The woman in Miami had not lived to hold her baby. And now Evelyn and her baby’s life were on the line.

  Celia seemed to momentarily retreat, I struggled to my feet, looking down the hall for Evelyn. When I glanced back at Celia she was clutching the patches in her hand.

  Blood streamed from her nose and her smirk both sickened and frightened me.

  My eyes locked on the patches, my vision suddenly clear. She peeled one off and dangled it in front of me. “Helene was so addicted to cigarettes I knew she’d use the patches I gave her.” She laughed. “Especially when I told her a proper mother couldn’t smoke. She’d have done anything to be a good mom even if it meant stealing the kid.”

  Celia advanced on me, I stepped back.

  “I never dreamed she’d use the patches on the night of the cruise. How perfect is that? With me nowhere near her.” Her lips curled and she lunged at me. “But then you—”

  I thrust my elbow out using her own momentum against her. She cried out as my elbow connected with her broken nose. She fell to her knees. A moan came from the birthing room. I ran down the passage way. Evelyn was lying on a bed in the birthing room, her head rolling from side to side, a ridiculous smile on her face.

  “I’m so high,” she said.

  The first effects of fentanyl were like drinking a couple glasses of wine. Helene had seemed so drunk on the cruise; now I realized it had been the drug.

  I rushed to Evelyn, but before I could reach her, Celia rammed her shoulder into my back. I stumbled and fell.

  “You’re going to die!” she said through her teeth. “You meddling—”

  I got to my feet and used my position below her as leverage and head-butted her in the chin with as much force as I could muster.

  Fortunately, I have a very hard head.

  Hers snapped back and she lost her balance. She stumbled and fell. I heard the door to the center open and Kenny called out.

  “Help!” I screamed as I dove toward Evelyn.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Evelyn kept repeating.

  I pulled three patches off her arm.

  How much had she absorbed already?

  Kenny flew into the room and stopped short, his eyes bulging out of his head.

  Poor kid, only seventeen. What did I expect?

  Celia let out an ear-piercing scream and attacked me with new fury. Kenny pulled her off me and shoved her to the ground.

  Sirens reverberated from down the block. Kenny and I tried to restrain Celia until the EMTs burst through the doors.

  “In the back!” I screamed.

  Kenny and I were trying to hold Celia down but she was punching and kicking at us with fury. We scrambled out of the way as one EMT grabbed and restrained her. The other EMT ran to Evelyn’s side.

  I rushed to the EMT by Evelyn. “She’s in labor and she’s been given fentanyl. This woman”—I pointed at Celia—“was trying to poison her and take her baby.”

  The EMT frowned, looking at me like I was crazy. He pulled out a stethoscope and placed it on Evelyn’s chest.

  “You have to get her to the hospital!” I cried.

  The EMT continued to evaluate Evelyn.

  I felt Kenny’s hands on my arms. “Everything will be okay now, Kate.”

  “They have to pump her stomach!” I screamed.

  “She’s in active labor,” the EMT said to his partner.

  I glanced over to the EMT holding Celia. She’d composed herself in their presence, her face a cold hard mask.

  She pulled away from the EMT. “I can deliver the baby.”

  “No!” I screamed. “Call Inspector McNearny! She’s killed two people! Call Inspector—”

  Evelyn let out a low moan.

  Celia rushed to her side.

  More sirens sounded from down the street.

  The EMT said, “Her heart rate’s
too low. We’re losing her.”