Rockabye Murder Page 7

  I eyed Paula’s slim figure. “You’ve already lost your baby weight,” I grumbled.

  “Well, I’m not having anymore,” she snickered back at me.

  “Grapefruit baked Alaska!” declared Mom, pulling Laurie from my arms. “Come out to the lobby—we’ll set up on the front desk and sample it.”

  “No savory popsicles, then?” I asked in relief.

  She quirked her lips. “Those almost made the cut, but I thought it might be better to focus on sweets.”

  Translation: They’d tasted terrible.

  As we headed to the lobby, Paula took the lead, chattering with Mom. Galigani and I fell in step behind them.

  “So, kid, where are we at on the case?” he asked.

  “I talked to Petunia, Odette, Kenny, and all three brothers,” I replied. “And I have an interview set up with those ballet teachers tomorrow. They kept putting me off. Can’t seem to get in touch with Monte, but Deb said the police were bringing him in for an interview, so maybe she can sneak us a copy of the transcript. Did you look up the ballet teachers in the database? Anything on their record?”

  “Clean criminal records,” he said, “although, I did a little more digging. You know I’m pretty thorough.”

  I smiled. Nothing like Galigani poking around for a compliment.

  “You are. That’s why we’re the best.”

  He snorted. “I’m going to ignore that we for the moment—”

  “I just meant you’re a good teacher. I’m learning from the best and—”

  He waved a hand around, already tired of the subject. “So, what I found is that Todd was a suspect in the poisoning of a fellow dancer back when he was in high school. The girl survived but was too traumatized to dance again.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “What was the motive for the poisoning?”

  “They thought he did it for his girlfriend, who was also a dancer and who was auditioning for the same leading role as the victim.”

  “Like poor Nancy Kerrigan!” I said.

  “Only not the knee and not figure-skating, but whatever.” Galigani grunted.

  I elbowed him. “You knew what I meant.”

  He nodded and finally broke into a smile.

  “Was Kim the girlfriend, by any chance?” I asked.

  “No,” Galigani said. “Another dancer. He seems to have met Kim about five years ago. They were the leads in Romeo and Juliet.”

  We came into the lobby to find Dave and Petunia already there. Mom—while somehow still perfectly balancing Laurie—opened a bag of paper plates and cut into the baked Alaska with a plastic knife. With a suspicious expression, I accepted a small slice topped with a maraschino cherry. I took a bite, preparing myself for something totally inedible. Instead, tangy sweetness exploded in my mouth. It was . . . surprisingly good.

  “Not bad, Mom,” I said. “What’s in it?”

  “Grapefruit with a brown meringue, topped with a maraschino cherry.” She loaded her own slice onto a plate. “I had to buy a whole truckload of maraschino cherries, I’ll have you know—so many 1950s recipes use them.”

  I popped the cherry in my mouth. “Were there maraschino cherries in the savory popsicles?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  I shuddered and tuned her out.

  “This is great, Vera!” said Petunia, finishing off her piece. “I’d love it if you made this for the fundraiser!” She stepped forward to cut another slice and visibly winced.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She reached down and rubbed her knee. “Just a sore joint,” she said. “Thankfully one of our students is a pharmacist, and he should be bringing by my anti-inflammatory gel any minute—”

  Warning bells rang in my head just as Hank walked in the door. Oh no.

  Hank and Galigani locked eyes and stared at each other, hostility shadowing their faces. Hank recovered first.

  “Vera! Galigani! So good to see you both!” He held a plastic bag out toward Petunia. “Got the gel for you, Miss Petal.”

  “You’re an angel!” cried Petunia as she accepted the bag. “You really didn’t have to come all this way.”

  He scoffed. “It’s not far at all, and I didn’t mind swinging by on my lunch break.”

  Mom giggled at the pun. Right in front of Galigani! If I’d been any closer, I’d have elbowed her in the ribs.

  “Hank,” she said, “you must try this grapefruit baked Alaska I’m testing out for the fundraiser. Tell me what you think—and be honest.”

  “I’m always honest,” he said with a wink. He took a slice and closed his eyes as he savored the first bite. “I think you missed your calling as a chef, Vera. You should open a restaurant!”

  I stepped forward, but before I could say anything, Hank reached out and tickled Laurie’s foot. Laurie giggled, and Galigani and I glanced at each other and rolled our eyes.

  The door opened again, and two tall, beautiful people came in—a man and a woman. I vaguely recognized them—I was pretty sure they were here the day we found Leo’s body. Were they Kim and Todd?

  Petunia waved. “Hey, guys! Want to try out a dessert?”

  The new arrivals looked at the baked Alaska as if it might bite them.

  “No, thank you,” said the woman in a smooth voice. “I have to watch what I eat. Ballet is tough that way.”

  I eyed her figure. She was impossibly slim. Oh, one bite of dessert would kill her? She should try being pregnant with twins. I vengefully forked another bite of baked Alaska into my mouth.

  They passed by us without another word, and Petunia shook her head when they disappeared from view down the hall.

  “That’s Kim and Todd,” she said to me in a low voice. “They think they’re better than all the other dancers because they teach ballet. They get on my nerves, to tell you the truth.”

  “Oh, I have an interview with them tomorrow about the case. What should I know about them?”

  Petunia looked like she’d tasted something sour. “Besides that they’re stuck-up and want to make everyone around them miserable?”

  I snorted. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

  Petunia took another bite of baked Alaska. When she swallowed, she said, “They’ve been working here for three years. They definitely have an attitude, but they bring in ballet students, and that’s good money. They help keep us afloat, so we put up with them. They didn’t like Leo, but, then again, they don’t really like anyone here.”

  “What were they doing before?” I asked.

  “This is their first teaching gig. They were professional dancers until this. Went to good ballet schools, headlined for some major dance companies. Might have been able to make more money teaching in New York, but Todd’s mom is here in San Francisco, and she’s got some health challenges.”

  “Did they have anything against Leo?”

  Petunia quirked her lips. “Like I said, they didn’t like him or anyone else. I really don’t know that there was any grudge big enough for . . . that, though.”

  “Excuse me, Kate,” Hank said, interrupting our conversation. “Are you going to be here for a while longer?”

  “About another hour, I think,” I answered.

  He excused himself, and I watched him leave with open curiosity. Galigani seemed to relax the moment Hank left the studio.

  Laurie started fussing, and I took her from Mom. That seemed to soothe her for a moment, but then she started squirming and fussing again. I looked down at her. “You can’t possibly be hungry yet, little duck. You ate a half hour ago.”

  Her cries got a little louder, and she reached for Galigani. I glanced from Laurie to Galigani and back again. Galigani’s eyes lit up as he pulled her into his arms. She immediately settled down.

  “Well, then,” he said with a note of pride in his voice.

  “You look very grandfatherly right now,” I said, hoping Mom was paying attention.

  “I feel very grandfatherly right now,” he replied. Laurie c
uddled into the crook of his neck.

  “Oh, how perfect,” said Mom. “We can get some planning done while you and Laurie keep each other company!”

  “I’d be delighted,” said Galigani with a little bow.

  It was a funny picture—gruff detective Albert Galigani reduced to a puddle of mush by a little baby. But it felt right.

  Hank was nice enough, but he needed to go—there was no question.

  Paula, Mom, and I went back down to the dance floor—which was a little smaller now that Kim and Todd had put the furthest set of dividers back to give themselves a room for the class they were about to teach—and by the time the hour was up, we had the whole menu planned, along with the layout of the room and most of the decor.

  We were putting the final touches on the plans for the lighting when Hank walked in carrying a beautiful wooden rocking horse.

  Galigani, who was reading a board book with Laurie in the corner of the room, shot a vengeful look at Hank’s back.

  “I brought this for Laurie!” said Hank. “She’s just the right age to enjoy a rocking horse, isn’t she?”

  My mom’s hand flew to her chest. “You shouldn’t have!” she cried.

  The rocking horse was intricately carved out of dark wood. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how expensive it had been.

  “I absolutely should have,” Hank said, turning toward Galigani and Laurie. “Bring her over here, see if she likes it.”

  From the look on Galigani’s face, there was nothing he wanted to do less. But politeness won out, and he swung Laurie up and brought her over. Hank set the rocking horse down, and Galigani set her next to it.

  I found my voice. “Hank, this is so generous of you, but it’s too much—”

  “I insist,” said Hank. We locked eyes, and a look of deep sincerity shone through his gaze. “It’s a free gift, Kate. No expectations attached. I just saw it and thought of Laurie.”

  My heart caught in my throat, and I glanced from Hank to my mom to Galigani to Laurie.

  Laurie let out a gurgle of wonder as she held onto the neck of the rocking horse. Hank picked her up and gently set her on the saddle, keeping a steady hand on her back and rocking her. Laurie let out a gleeful shriek.

  Galigani stalked back to his chair in the corner, steaming.

  We let Laurie ride the horse for a few minutes, and then I announced it was time to head home.

  “I’ll help you load the horse into your car,” said Hank.

  I politely thanked him and gathered up Laurie and the diaper bag. Laurie cried out in anger when I pulled her off the horse. With a little grunt of frustration, I dug in the diaper bag for her stuffed duck, pulling it out in triumph. She wasn’t totally satisfied, but she chewed on one of its wings, mollified enough to not throw a temper tantrum.

  When we returned to the lobby, I pulled up short. What’s Kenny doing here?

  Besides leaning casually against the desk, talking to Odette, that is.

  “I didn’t schedule you to watch Laurie today, did I?” I called.

  He glanced at me, looking startled and almost a little embarrassed. “Oh! Hey, Kate. No, I’m just here to meet Odette.” He grinned at Odette and said to her, “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  I’ll pick you up at seven? They were going on a date? After I told her he was practically in high school?

  I headed out into the parking lot, fuming under my breath. “I cannot believe them,” I muttered.

  “Why not, dear?” asked Mom.

  “They can’t go out on a date!” I said, opening the car door and buckling Laurie in. “He’s eighteen. There’s like a seven-year age gap.”

  Mom glanced back at the studio as Hank loaded the rocking horse in my car. “That’s a big gap right now,” she said, “but he’s an adult, and you can’t stop him.”

  “You sound like Jim,” I grumbled.

  “It probably won’t last. And if it does, in three years, it won’t be such an eye-raising age gap, and in five years, no one will think anything of it,” she added.

  I closed the car door. “Why not just book their wedding venue while we’re at it?”

  “Do you have anything against the girl, besides her age?” Hank asked.

  Besides her age and her impossible elegance and the fact that Kenny’s puppy love was making him an unreliable babysitter?

  The truth sat in my throat like a bitter pill. I didn’t really have anything against Odette. Nothing substantive. I’d just never seen Kenny fall so hard and so fast—he’d had a revolving door of crushes in the time I’d known him—and I was worried about what it meant for our family. I was being selfish. He was such a good, dependable babysitter, and I didn’t want to lose him to a whirlwind romance.

  But Kenny wouldn’t be Laurie’s babysitter forever. He was going to go to college and probably tour the world playing tuba professionally.

  “No,” I said finally. “She seems nice. I just worry about him.”

  I said goodbye to Mom and Hank—I wasn’t sure where Galigani had gone—and drove home. Jim’s car was already in the driveway, and so was Jo-Jo’s truck. When I walked inside, I braced myself for the faint scent of sewage, but instead, the house smelled of taco seasoning. I took a deep breath. So much better than zombie diapers.

  “Hey!” I called.

  “Hey, honey!” Jim called from the kitchen.

  I carried Laurie in and found Jim browning a pan of hamburger. The dishwasher was humming, and a bowl of chopped onions sat next to the stove.

  Oh, how I loved that man. I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for making dinner! How was your day?”

  Above the occasional sound of pounding from the garage, Jim told me about his client meetings—he’d landed another contract with the film studio he’d been working for—and I told him about our plans for the fundraiser and the awkward situation with Hank and Galigani.

  He washed his hands and said, “Oh, should I bring the rocking horse in?”

  I took over browning the meat, and a minute later, Jim had put the rocking horse on the kitchen floor and set Laurie on top of it. She squealed in delight.

  “This is beautiful,” Jim said. “Hank must really like your mom, huh?”

  “I think he does,” I said. “And he seems like a very nice guy. I just don’t want Galigani to get hurt. Keep a hand on Laurie while she’s on that thing, will you? I’m not sure she’ll reliably keep her own balance.”

  When I went to the fridge to pull out a tomato and the block of cheddar cheese, I spied what looked like a tool sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

  What on earth?

  I set the food on the counter and went to investigate. Sure enough, there was a flat-head screwdriver just sitting on the coffee table. “Jim!” I yelled. “We can’t leave tools out. Laurie is picking things up now. She could really hurt herself!”

  “What do you mean?” he called from the kitchen.

  I grabbed the screwdriver and stalked back to show it to him.

  Jim’s eyebrows ruffled. “That’s not ours. Our screwdrivers are both red.”

  The handle on this screwdriver was undeniably black.

  “Then how . . .” Jo-Jo.

  The answer seemed to hit us both at the same time. Jim sighed and stood, picking up Laurie. “I’ll go talk to him. When I got home, he came into the living room to tell me about something with the wiring, and he must have set down the screwdriver. Paula did say he could be forgetful.”

  “Yeah, you better talk to him,” I muttered as Jim headed off to the garage with Laurie. “Because between pregnancy hormones and mama-bear instincts, I’m not going to be able to be nice.”

  Chapter 9

  Jim assured me that Jo-Jo had apologized profusely and said it wouldn’t happen again, and that he’d reiterated that the basement renovation would be grand.

  “Thanks for talking to him about it.” I smoothed the tablecloth onto the table. “Laurie’s safe, and that’s what counts.”

&nb
sp; While Jim finished setting the table, I texted Kenny to ask if he could watch Laurie the next day when I went to interview Kim and Todd.

  We sat down to a taco salad dinner, and I fed Laurie little bites of cheese as we ate. Suddenly, the whole table seemed to shift. I grabbed Laurie’s hand right before she tugged again at the tablecloth and brought all our dishes crashing down.

  “Little duck!” I exclaimed. “That was a close one.”

  “What’d she do?” asked Jim.

  “Pulled the tablecloth. Guess we’d better switch to placemats until she’s older.”

  Jim chuckled. “I bet Whiskers would have appreciated taco salad on the floor.”

  “I’ve no doubt.” I glanced down at Whiskers, who was staring at us mournfully. “She’s trying to tell us she’s never been fed in her whole life.”

  Jim took another bite of taco salad. “Little con artist.”

  When we finished dinner, Kenny still hadn’t texted me back, so I called and left a message. With a sigh, I started making a list of everyone who was at the studio on the day of the murder. Best to do this comprehensively. Neither Galigani and I nor the police had come up with anything concrete. I needed to go over this with a fine-toothed comb to figure out what we’d missed.

  People to interview:

  Kim

  Todd—suspect in previous poisoning!

  Odette

  Kenny

  Eddie

  Dave

  Petunia

  It was a start. Then I squinted at the list and added one more name.

  Monte—has motive!

  “No one saw anything that seemed suspicious,” I mused to Jim, “although I haven’t gotten to talk to Kim and Todd yet, because they’ve been dodging me. But I think it’s time to dig deeper. Go over every last detail with them, to figure out something they might have seen that didn’t strike them as important.”

  “Like I said”—Jim kissed my forehead—“you’re the best PI in this town.”

  His praise made me feel warm and fuzzy, but I was secretly glad that I wasn’t competing with Vicente Domingo on this case.

  “I’m going to do a little case research tonight,” I said. “There’s a lead I want to get some background info on.”