Formula for Murder Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epigraph

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  • CHAPTER ONE •

  • CHAPTER TWO •

  • CHAPTER THREE •

  • CHAPTER FOUR •

  • CHAPTER FIVE •

  • CHAPTER SIX •

  • CHAPTER SEVEN •

  • CHAPTER EIGHT •

  • CHAPTER NINE •

  • CHAPTER TEN •

  • CHAPTER ELEVEN •

  • CHAPTER TWELVE •

  • CHAPTER THIRTEEN •

  • CHAPTER FOURTEEN •

  • CHAPTER FIFTEEN •

  • CHAPTER SIXTEEN •

  • CHAPTER SEVENTEEN •

  • CHAPTER EIGHTEEN •

  • CHAPTER NINETEEN •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN •

  • CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT •

  “Skip your afternoon nap and cozy up to Diana Orgain’s Maternal Instincts Mysteries. The series’ plucky protagonist gives ‘working mom’ a whole new meaning as she endearingly juggles bad guys and binkies.”

  —Susan McBride, author of the Debutante Dropout Mysteries

  Praise for

  Formula for Murder

  “If you were expecting warm and cute, you’ll be mistaken. Fast-paced and fun, this book gives a true feel of the modern mom, trying to juggle motherhood and career (when that career happens to be solving crimes).”

  —Rhys Bowen

  Praise for Diana Orgain’s other novels

  Motherhood Is Murder

  “A fun, fast, cozy read that will keep its readers entertained and anxiously awaiting the next installment. A must read.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A breezy and entertaining mystery.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  “An over-the-top, good-time cozy mystery. With a feisty heroine and with lots of humor, plenty of intrigue and suspense, and a little baby cooing, this novel is a delightful treat to read.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Bundle of Trouble

  “Engaging . . . [A] charming debut thriller.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A stellar debut . . . Deftly plotted with a winning protagonist and a glorious San Francisco setting, Bundle of Trouble is a page-turning read. We will be hearing much more from this talented newcomer. Highly recommended.”

  —Sheldon Siegel, New York Times bestselling author of Perfect Alibi

  “Anyone who’s been a mother or had one will welcome the arrival of this entertaining new sleuth.”

  —Gillian Roberts, author of the Amanda Pepper Mysteries

  “You’ll love keeping up with this amazing mother and sleuth in the fun, fast-paced Bundle of Trouble.”

  —Margaret Grace, author of the Miniature Mysteries

  “A charming, gutsy, wry character who will make you laugh so hard you’ll forget the labor pains. Cigars all around . . . Bundle of Trouble is a natural-born winner.”

  —Louise Ure, Shamus Award-winner of Liars Anonymous

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Diana Orgain

  BUNDLE OF TROUBLE

  MOTHERHOOD IS MURDER

  FORMULA FOR MURDER

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  FORMULA FOR MURDER

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / March 2011

  Copyright © 2011 by Diana Orgain.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-47738-0

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For Tom Orgain

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to my wonderful agent, Lucienne Diver, and my fantastic editor, Michelle Vega, for your expertise and support. Special thanks to my mother, Maria Carmen Noa, and my brother, Tony Abad, for your creativity and help with brainstorming.

  And thank you to all the readers who have written to me; your kind words keep me motivated to write the next story.

  • CHAPTER ONE •

  To Do:

  1. ✓

  2. Get them printed first—then send out Christmas cards.

  3. Start Christmas shopping.

  4. Find a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament.

  5. Get Christmas tree.

  6. Finish background checks Galigani gave me.

  7. Get new PI client. How do I do this?

  I checked Laurie in the rearview mirror; she was sound asleep. As usual, the motion of the car had lulled her into slumber.

  She looked adorable, wearing a tiny red satin dress with matching red booties. We were on our way to get her first holiday photos taken. I couldn’t believe three months had evaporated; it seemed like she was born just yesterday. My best friend Paula had warned me the time would fly by, but this was ridiculous. How had I put off taking Laurie’s holiday photos? Now it was the first week in December and I was hustling to get them taken, printed, and sent out as Christmas cards.

  It’s all right. From now on efficiency will be my middle name.

  I cruised down the hill to the stoplight and stepped on the brake. Out of habit, I gla
nced in the rearview again and saw a silver SUV barreling down the hill.

  Was the car out of control? It continued to speed and there was no telltale sign of the nose dipping as it would if the driver were braking.

  They were getting closer! Almost on top of us.

  I quickly looked for a way to avoid impact. The cars in front of me were waiting on the traffic signal and a steady stream of cross traffic moved through the intersection.

  No! The SUV was going to hit us!

  My eyes were transfixed on the rearview mirror. I held my breath, bracing myself for the crash at the same time that my brain screamed for a miracle.

  Please stop in time. Please don’t hit me and my baby!

  Adrenaline shot through me, and everything felt as though it was happening in slow motion. I watched in horror as the SUV swerved violently to the right, but there was no way it could avoid hitting us.

  The impact jolted us forward and I banged my head on the steering wheel. My seat belt caught and tugged at me just as we slammed into the car in front of us, then my entire body jerked backward, the base of my head smacking into the headrest.

  Laurie let out a shrill wail, piercing into my heart. My gaze shot right and I locked eyes with the assailing driver. He was young, maybe only sixteen or seventeen, with longish brown hair and peach fuzz on his chin. His eyes were wide in shock. The SUV revved and tore off through the red light.

  The light changed to green, and traffic—which had been stopped all around us—began to move again.

  The passenger door of the vehicle in front of us opened and a woman jumped out. She rushed to my driver’s side. I unfastened my belt with only one thing on my mind.

  Laurie!

  My hands were shaking from the adrenaline pulsing through my system. I pushed open my door.

  The woman asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know. My baby! My baby!”

  The woman’s eyes widened as she focused on Laurie in her car seat.

  Why wasn’t she crying? She had cried out on impact but now she was silent.

  My heart was lodged in my throat. I struggled with the door handle, my hands fumbling it. The woman reached over me and easily opened the door. I dove inside the backseat to Laurie’s side.

  Traffic sped around us. One vehicle slowed, then stopped. The driver yelled, “Is everyone okay? Do you want me to call a tow truck? The police?”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat and shouted, “Call an ambulance!”

  My voice sounded near hysterical even to me. I examined Laurie, who upon seeing me started to fidget and then began to cry.

  Was she hurt? Was I supposed to move her? Panic about spinal cord injury flooded my mind.

  “What do I do?” I asked the woman. “I don’t want to take her out of the car seat. What if it hurts her little spine?”

  “Can we get the entire car seat out of the car? Traffic’s not waiting, honey, and I want to get you two out of danger.”

  I unclipped the car seat bucket and pulled the carrier out. The woman grabbed the carrier, and we crossed a lane of traffic to the side of the road.

  She set Laurie’s bucket down on a bed of ice plants. “My husband went after the guy,” the woman said. “I can’t believe he just took off like that!”

  I nodded distractedly, my mind and attention on Laurie. “He was young, a kid.”

  The woman blew out her breath in a sharp huff. “Probably on drugs!”

  I leaned in as close to Laurie as I could without removing her from the seat, trying to soothe her.

  “Did you see the plates on the car?” the woman asked me.

  I rubbed Laurie’s check, she rooted toward my hand. She was either hungry or looking for soothing. “No,” I answered. “Just him. Long brown hair, peach fuzz, wide-eyed doe look on his face.”

  “Foreign diplomat car. DL? What code is that? French?” she asked.

  Sirens screamed from up the hill.

  Help is on the way!

  I pressed my check against Laurie’s and whispered, “Shhh, little angel, pumpkiny pie, Mommy’s here and help’s coming fast.”

  The woman said something inaudible and looked up in time to see an ambulance accompanied by a police cruiser pull up to the curb. The paramedics jumped out of the ambulance.

  An officer stepped out of the patrol car and began speaking with the woman.

  One EMT leaned over Laurie and me. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay. I think. My baby is only three months old. I didn’t want to take her out of the seat. Because, you know, I didn’t know if it was okay to move her. I’m scared of neck or spinal injury—”

  “Right, right,” the EMT said, flashing a light across Laurie’s eyes.

  I knelt in the ice plant and hovered over them, not caring about the dew that soaked through the knees of my jeans and chilled me.

  The EMT looked at me. “Her eyes are responding okay, but I can’t tell much without taking her out of the seat. You want to go to the hospital? It’s down the street.”

  I nodded, trying to shove down the hysteria welling inside me.

  The EMT picked up Laurie’s bucket. Laurie was now seemingly beginning to panic, too, and her cry turned into a shriek, her tiny arms flapping about.

  It broke my heart to see her in distress, not really able to calm her. Every fiber of my being screamed to grab the bucket from him, pull Laurie out, and cradle her.

  Please just be hungry or fussy. Don’t be hurt, don’t be injured!

  The other EMT helped me up off my knees. The woman seemed to be recounting the accident to the police officer. As soon as I got to my feet I followed Laurie into the ambulance. The EMT who had assisted me moved to the officer and said something I couldn’t pick up.

  The officer nodded and came toward me. He was slightly taller than me and had a stocky build. Somehow his build reassured me as though it made him sturdy and dependable. “Ma’am, I’ll need a statement from you. If you leave me your information I can get it from you later.”

  I absently looked around for my purse. For the first time since the accident I saw my car. It was completely totaled. My trunk was smashed in and the hood looked like an accordion.

  How had I walked away from that?

  What about Laurie . . . Could she really be all right?

  Tears flooded my eyes. “I don’t know where my purse is. I can give you my number . . . Can you call my husband?”

  The officer jotted down my home number. “I’ll tell him to pick you up at the hospital.” He looked at me for approval.

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in touch, ma’am. I hope your baby is all right.” Anger flashed across his face and his jaw tightened. “Don’t worry: I’m gonna get the guy who hit you.”

  I thanked him, then jumped into the ambulance, anxious to be with Laurie. She was still crying. Not knowing how to best channel my distress, I broke down and began to sob also, my brain trying to process the fact that this was the second time in Laurie’s short life that we’d shared an ambulance ride together. The fact that this time was not my fault did little to settle my nerves.

  Why had the driver left the scene? Sure, he was probably scared, but didn’t he know a hit-and-run was a criminal act?

  The EMT attending to Laurie put a small blanket over her and glanced at me. “Are you in pain, ma’ am?”

  I searched my pockets in a useless effort to find a pacifier for Laurie and shrugged at the EMT. “I want to hold her.”

  “I know,” he said, almost in a whisper. “It’s hard to listen to them cry. Did you know just the sound of a baby’s cry makes your blood pressure go up?”

  I shook my head.

  He continued, “Yeah, in all mammals except for rats.”

  We rounded a corner and arrived at the hospital. Laurie and I were unloaded and ushered to a small room. A nurse freed Laurie from the car seat, before I could protest, and laid her on a table to take her vitals.

  Someon
e in green medical scrubs was asking me if I had any cuts or abrasions. I shook my head and felt a blood pressure cuff go around my arm. My eyes locked on Laurie, I didn’t even bother to look at him.

  The nurse hovering over her asked, “How old is the baby?”

  “Three months,” I answered.

  “When’s the last time she ate?” she asked, stripping Laurie of her beautiful little holiday dress.

  “A few hours ago.”

  The nurse attached small metal pads to Laurie’s chest. Laurie let out a sharp cry.

  “I’m so sorry they’re cold, sweetie,” she said.

  The man attending me dropped my arm. “Normal,” he said.

  I glanced at him in disbelief, then read the digital display: 120/80.

  I closed my eyes. Did this mean I was a rat?

  Surely if I were any kind of decent mother my blood pressure would be through the roof.

  “Can you take it again?” I asked.

  The man frowned. “You’re fine.”

  I didn’t feel fine. I felt like a failure.

  How could my blood pressure be fine? I’m a total and complete failure as a mom.

  “Do you want to see a doctor?” the man asked me.

  Again, I shook my head. “No. Just a pediatrician for Laurie.”

  He nodded and left the room. The other nurse turned to me. “Are you breastfeeding?”

  I nodded.

  She handed Laurie to me. “Why don’t you nurse her now and see if she calms down a bit. All her vital signs are very good. Do you still want a pediatrician to look at her?”

  “Yes, of course!” I answered.