Motherhood is Murder Read online

  Why hadn’t I brought my cell phone with me? Jim was right—I needed to make a better habit of it! What if the woman went into labor here on the beach? What was I going to do?

  “No, don’t worry. I won’t go into labor on you.” Evelyn picked up a stick and drew a flower in the sand. “I’m not due for another couple weeks and my first was five days late, so I don’t think I can get that lucky.”

  “You never know. And we just had this strenuous walk.”

  “You think that was strenuous?”

  Oh, brother. Now I was going to get into a fitness competition—with a pregnant woman, no less.

  She picked up her stick, crossed out the flower. “Celia is having me walk every day. Supposedly it can help induce labor, but I don’t know. I did my own research and it’s not conclusive. I see her on the fifteenth. Maybe I’ll be dilated.”

  I bit my tongue. I could see how having a home birth might be nice. But what about the pain medication, for God’s sake!

  Evelyn read my face. “What?”

  “Aren’t you concerned, you know, what if something goes wrong?”

  “If there’s any emergency, you just go to the hospital.”

  “What about—”

  “The epidural didn’t work on me with Kyle. So I experienced labor firsthand. I’m not afraid of that.”

  “Wow. You have a lot more courage than me.”

  Evelyn laughed. “It’s all relative. We all have stuff we’re afraid of.”

  “What do you think happened to Helene?” I probed.

  Evelyn began to draw steps in the sand. “I went outside to get some fresh air. That’s when I heard Helene and Sara arguing, then Sara stormed off.

  “Why was Sara’s dress wet?”

  Evelyn stopped drawing in the sand. “Was it? I don’t know.”

  I watched the little boat out in the ocean, bobbing up and down with the tide. A seagull showing some moxie cawed at us and approached. Evelyn waved the stick at it and it ran off.

  “What about the spouses?” I asked. “Can you tell me anything about Bruce or Alan?”

  Evelyn scratched out the steps she had drawn and doodled a heart in the sand. “I don’t really know them. It was the first time I met them. I thought they were nice enough but my husband said Alan was kind of keyed up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “Fred was having a cigar with Howard, Sara’s husband, who said Alan was running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”

  “Do you know anything about an affair Alan might have been having?”

  A smile crossed her face. “Was he cheating on Margaret?”

  My heart dropped. How could she be happy at someone else’s pain?

  It’s not my job to judge.

  “Do you know anything about it?”

  She shrugged. “No. You ask Sara, though. They’re neighbors. She might know something.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Falling Behind

  To Do:

  1. Call Sara.

  2. Clean the house.

  3. What does a nanny cost? Do they clean house, too?

  4. Look up swim classes for Laurie!

  5. Research preschools!

  6. Walk on the beach every day!!! It is pathetic that I get out of breath after a few steps!

  When I arrived home, the first thing I did was make straight for the washing machine. I pulled off my sneakers and emptied them directly into the mop sink. I was mesmerized by the amount of sand pouring out.

  How could my feet fit in there with all that sand?

  I peeled off my socks. What was it about Ocean Beach that made this sand so sticky? It clung to my socks and was even between my toes. I put my socks into the washing machine and dumped the contents of the laundry basket, which was next to the machine, inside it.

  I heard the upstairs door creak open.

  “Kate?” Jim called from the top of the stairs.

  “It’s me. I’m doing laundry. I didn’t want to track sand upstairs.”

  Jim descended the stairs. “How was your walk?”

  “Good, but it nearly killed me. I’m totally out of shape.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you just had a baby.”

  “That was weeks ago! I can’t believe this woman at eight months pregnant outpaced me.”

  Jim laughed. “Sleep deprivation can do funny things to stamina.”

  I leaned my head onto his chest and listened to his heartbeat. “That’s so nice of you to say, honey, when we both know I need to get my butt in gear and work out.”

  He kissed my hair. “You’ll be ready to run with the bulls by spring.”

  I pulled away from his chest and looked at his face. “Speaking of bulls or bullies—this woman was a piece of work! No wonder they kicked her out of the club. So mean!”

  Jim laughed. “You think everyone is mean, but that’s because you’re too nice.”

  “I’m not nice.”

  Jim looked incredulous.

  “Where’s Laurie?” I asked.

  “Upstairs. I left her unsupervised. I’m sure she’s trashed the place by now.”

  I made a fist and playfully waved it in his face. “Okay, I’m nice, but not that nice.”

  He laughed. “She’s asleep in her crib. And by the way, Dr. Alan Lipe’s office called. They said there was a cancellation for tomorrow, wanted to know if you wanted the spot.”

  I opened the door to the medical office and peered into the waiting room. It was empty except for the receptionist sitting behind a closed-in glass counter. She was dressed in a white lab coat and had thick short gray hair.

  She peered at me over her bifocals.

  I smiled. “Hi. I’m Kate Connolly. I have an appointment with Dr. Alan Lipe.”

  She studied the appointment book. “Yes. May I see your referral slip?”

  “Ooooh. Um. I forgot that.”

  She tapped the book with the eraser of her pencil. “And the referring doctor is . . . ?”

  Of course, I didn’t have one.

  Think, Kate, think!

  “Dr. Green,” I lied.

  Dr. Green was my ob-gyn, but was the only name I could come up with.

  She frowned. “Which practice is Dr. Green with?”

  “Uh. I don’t remember.”

  Her lips pursed, she stared at me sternly. I smiled. She got up from her chair in silence and disappeared down a hallway. I remained standing at the counter.

  I’d made the appointment with the intent of grilling Alan, but I didn’t really want him to know Margaret was on to him.

  What would I say to him?

  A few moments later, the receptionist reappeared in the doorway connected to the hallway. “Mrs. Connolly, right this way.”

  We walked down the hallway and she motioned me into the third door on the left.

  The room had only a patient table, a stool, and a small set of drawers. On the wall hung a print of a foot with all the ligaments, joints, and muscles exposed.

  I hoisted myself on the table and waited for Alan.

  A few minutes passed and then came a knock on the door. It creaked open before I could respond. Alan entered, wearing a blue polo shirt and Dockers. His curly hair was unruly and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  He stuck out his hand. “Mrs. Connolly, I’m Dr. Lipe.”

  “Hello, Alan.” I shook his hand. “Do you remember me? From the cruise on the other night—”

  “Of course, yes. Of course. Terrible night.” He moved his head up and down repeatedly as though trying to sift through some memories. “You’re a private investigator, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes. I recall Margaret saying so. We saw each other again at Helene’s service.”

  “That’s right.”

  He glanced at my feet. “What kind of problems are you having? What can I do you for?”

  “Um.” I looked at my feet as well. “Uh. I just had a baby—”

  “Congratulations! When?”

  “She’s seven weeks old.”

  “Wonderful.” He smiled, but it did little to l
ight up his face. “And your feet are giving you problems?”

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  He nodded. “Take off your shoes.”

  I kicked off my Keds and dangled my feet off the table.

  He picked up my left foot and squeezed it gently then rotated my foot. My ankle cracked and popped.

  “Margaret is heartbroken about Helene,” I said.

  He looked at me for a split second. There was surprise on his face, but he quickly adjusted his expression back to blank. “Yes. They were best friends. Tell me about your feet.”

  “They’re swollen all the time and none of my shoes fit.”

  He nodded. “That’s very common following a pregnancy. Do you have pain?”

  I didn’t. Not really, but not fitting into your shoes didn’t seem like a reason to visit a podiatrist, so I said,

  “Yes.”

  He dropped my left foot and picked up my right one. He palpated the foot then rotated the ankle. “Your feet aren’t swollen now. Would you say you had a lot of swelling during pregnancy?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He seemed so sincere. So caring. So gentle.

  For a murderer.

  “With Helene gone, Margaret’s probably at a loss. It could put a strain on a marriage,” I said.

  He dropped my foot as if it had just given him a shock. “Typically after pregnancy, pain can be caused by the edema, which put pressure on the structures of the feet and nerves. Even after the edema leaves, there may be pain.” He pointed to the print on the wall and started to outline some ligaments. “I think you could benefit from a pair of orthotics.”

  Orthotics?

  There was nothing sexy about that. I only wanted to be able to fit into my cute open-toed shoes again.

  “Umm, they don’t really hurt all that much . . .”

  He looked upset.

  “Doctor, what do you think happened to Helene the other night? It was all so sudden.”

  He paled. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s strange, though, isn’t it? You were with her when she died, weren’t you?” I tested.

  He took a step back and swallowed. “Unfortunate set of circumstances.” He turned his back on me and steadied himself by putting his hands on the small set of drawers. “Shall we schedule you for the prescription orthotics?”

  He waited for my reply with his back to me.

  He was as uncomfortable speaking to me as I had been with Inspector McNearny.

  “What do you think was the cause of death?”

  He whipped around, his face set in stone. “I’m not the medical examiner. Look, are you here about your feet or something else?”

  I let my feet dangle and furrowed my brows. “What else would I be here about?”

  “What are all these questions about? Are you investigating me?”

  “Why would I?”

  He self-consciously smoothed down his shirt and shifted his eyes around the room. He took a breath. “Right. Have Joan schedule you for a follow-up.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Keeping Up

  To Do:

  1. Talk to Miss No-Nonsense.

  2. Get manicure.

  3. Order turkey.

  4. When’s Paula coming home?

  5. Build up milk supply—pump, pump, pump!!!

  The following day, I decided to pop in on Sara. She hadn’t returned my phone calls and I was starting to get antsy about her.

  Was she avoiding me?

  I packed Laurie into the car and headed to Jordan Park, which was down the street from California Pacific Hospital, where Laurie was born. This same hospital had also been the initial meeting place for Roo & You members, since they had all given birth to their first children and taken classes there, too. Well, all of them except Helene.

  And what about these home births?

  I had a hard enough time keeping my place clean; now I imagined the mess of a home birth. Blood, placenta, and goo on the baby. Good Lord. Why on earth would anyone want to do that?

  Well, now, no reason to be critical. I’m sure people had their reasons—it just simply wasn’t for me.

  Jordan Park is a beautiful neighborhood but lacks parking like most of San Francisco. I circled around and was surprised to see Margaret in front of her house watering the lawn. I double-parked, rolled down my window, and called to her.

  She looked up, startled, then waved at me to wait a moment. She put down the hose, rushed to her garage to turn off the water, then came over to my car.

  She was wearing a slip dress that accentuated her slimness, making her look as if the wind could blow her over. In contrast to the whimsical look of the dress, she had on clunky green mules that seemed to ground her. To combat the weather she had on a wool scarf and hat, although I can never understand how people don’t freeze with bare arms and legs.

  She rested her hands on my car and leaned in. “Have you found anything out?”

  “Not much, Margaret. I followed Alan the other day. He came directly home. Didn’t stop anywhere. Do you think he’s still having the affair?”

  “It’s strange. I know. He’s been coming home on time lately and is seemingly more interested in me and the kids. I’m not buying it, though. He’s only doing that because I confronted him. I think he’s trying to get me off my guard. I can’t trust him, Kate.”

  “Are you going to stay with your mom for a while?”

  Her face conveyed a sudden sadness. “Yes, I’m leaving with the kids tomorrow. I haven’t told Alan, though.”

  Another car rolled down the street and had to maneuver around me.

  “Is it okay if I park in your driveway? I’d like to ask Sara a few things.”

  Margaret looked annoyed. She crossed her bare arms in front of herself and rubbed them. “Sara? What do you need to see her about?”

  “Well, I’m trying to get to the bottom of what happened to Helene.”

  What did she think I wanted to see her about?

  “Well, Sara doesn’t know anything.”

  Another car came down the street. I waved at the driver to go around.

  “Okay. Sure, park here.” Margaret motioned for me to pull into her driveway.

  I parked and got out of the car, then unhitched Laurie’s car seat from the back. She was sound asleep. I tucked a knit blanket securely around her to protect her from the wind that threatened to bluster at any moment.

  The exchange between us now felt halted and awkward. “I’m going to run across the street and meet Sara.”

  “Of course.” Margaret reached out and patted my arm. “Do you need help with the diaper bag and gear and all?”

  I smiled, reassuring her all was fine between us. “No. I got it. Thanks!”

  I was a little nervous about meeting with Sara since the last time I’d seen her, at Helene’s funeral, she’d given me such an unwelcoming vibe and now wasn’t even returning my calls.

  She answered the bell on the first ring. She had on a red wool sweater and fitted jeans.

  “Oh, hi, Kate.” She looked beyond me then back. “Are you here alone?”

  I held up Laurie’s bucket. “Just me and my monkey.”

  She smiled. “Right. Yes. I got your messages. I’m sorry I haven’t called you back. Busy, busy, busy.”

  After an awkward moment, she ushered Laurie and me into her enormous living room. A baby play station, complete with swing, rocking chair, colorful balls, and mirrors, dominated the room. In the center of it all sat a beautiful rosy-cheeked little girl, who graced us with a toothless smile as we entered the room.

  “This is Amanda. You can put Laurie on the playmat with her when she wakes up. Amanda loves company.”

  At that moment Amanda squeezed a cow on the play station. A high-pitched rendition of “Old MacDonald” started playing.

  I nodded, nestling Laurie’s car seat next to my chair as I took a seat by the window. “Great. I’m sure she’ll love all the colors and sounds.”

  If they don’t wake her immediately.

  “Probably too little for it still. Amanda just started playing in it a few weeks ago. She’s six mo
nths now,” Sara said.

  “Is she your first?”

  Sara nodded.

  “So you joined Roo & You a few months ago after Amanda was born?”

  Sara looked up toward the ceiling as if trying to recall the actual date. “Let’s see. I joined, more or less, unofficially before she was born. Because I knew Margaret from across the street, the others were always hanging out at her place. So when I was about six months pregnant and full of baby questions, I started attending the playdates.” She indicated my car through the front window. “I see that you spoke with Margaret already.”

  I turned to look out the window and could plainly see my Chevy parked in Margaret’s driveway. “Yeah. I didn’t know you two were neighbors until Evelyn mentioned it the other day.”

  At the mention of Evelyn’s name, anger flashed across Sara’s eyes and she glanced toward Amanda.

  After a moment, she said, “I’ve lived here about four years. We’re a tight group of neighbors. Watch each other’s dogs when we vacation and pick up mail. That sort of thing.”

  I looked around for signs of a dog but didn’t see any. Maybe Sara was only a dog watcher.

  “Margaret befriended me immediately when I moved in. Which was great, because coming from the East Coast, I didn’t know a lot of people and Howard works a lot. He’s a general contractor. It was nice to have a friend right away.”

  “She’s very nice. I imagine she’s been a good friend to have.”

  Sara tilted her head and looked across the street thoughtfully. “Margaret is a good friend. Very trusting. She only sees the best in people. When she’s talking to you, it’s as if you’re the only other person in the world. She has a gift for making you feel special. The problem is she can be taken advantage of it and not know it. It’s hard for me to stand by and watch.”

  “Taken advantage of how?”

  Sara rolled up the sleeves of her wool sweater. “People use her. Helene was definitely what I would classify a taker. And Margaret is a giver. You can imagine what kind of relationship it was.”

  “Margaret said Helene was her best friend.”

  Sara sighed and shook her head in disapproval.