Bundle of Trouble

There went that theory.

I dialed El Paraiso. “I’d like to order some food for delivery.”

The hostess promptly informed me that they didn’t deliver.

I looked up at Jim’s expectant face. “They don’t deliver.”

“I thought George was supposed to be the delivery guy?” He sighed. “What, did he quit already? Get fired?”

“She said they’ve never delivered.”

Jim’s face clouded, his mouth twisting with concern. “Why would Michelle tell you he worked there if he didn’t?”

•CHAPTER NINE•

The Third Week-Digging In

I awoke in a state of panic, drenched in sweat. I’d read that the body rids itself of extra fluids from pregnancy by sweating. What I didn’t know was if the sweating was from a postpartum symptom or from the frantic dream I’d just had about Michelle.

In the dream I’d been able to revive her. I’d asked her over and over again who had killed her. She’d clung to me, mute.

I glanced at the clock. Five A.M. Laurie and I had both finally drifted to sleep around midnight. Had she really slept five hours?

Was she alive? Panicked, I leaned over the bassinet and frantically put my hand on her tummy.

Her stomach rose slowly and evenly.

I studied her for a moment, her arms raised above her head, a gesture of pure abandonment.

Wait. Five A.M.? She was still asleep? I couldn’t believe it.

At the hospital they had instructed me to wake her for her night feeding if she slept through it.

Give me a break. Hadn’t they ever heard the adage “Never wake a sleeping baby”? No way was I going to do it. Forget it. If she slept through her feeding, she must not be hungry.

I lay back on my pillow. The sheets crunched as if made of potato chips. I held my breath. Laurie was still out.

I shook Jim. “Laurie’s been asleep for five hours!”

“Great,” he mumbled.

“Honey, she’s been asleep for five hours,” I repeated.

“You go to sleep, too.”

I suppose new moms need to learn how to sleep through the night also.

Closing my eyes, I tried to clear my mind. Visions of Michelle popped into my head again, crowding out all other thoughts. I tried to think about something else. Laurie. Yes. I’d think of Laurie. Sweet Laurie. Innocence. Pure life.

Suddenly my breasts started to leak, soaking my night-gown. Great. Way to go, Kate.

Hold out on the baby and you leak anyway. I may as well feed her, right? Either that or lie here wet and have nightmares.

The breast pump was in the corner of the bedroom. I could get up and learn to use that. I’d need to start stocking up on milk to cover Laurie during the hours I’d be at the office.

The office? Ugh. How much longer on my maternity leave? Three weeks.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Five hundred and four hours. Wait. It was already 5 A.M. So that meant four hundred ninety-nine hours.

I closed my eyes. How depressing.

Wasn’t there a way to stay home with Laurie? I mulled over the question, drifting off to sleep, forgetting to feed Laurie, use the pump, or stress over Michelle and George.

It was 9 A.M. Jim had left for the office hours ago. Laurie and I lay in bed, nursing. It seemed like we’d been nursing all morning. Making up for lost nutrition throughout the night.

I felt even more drained now than I had at 5 A.M. We were about to doze off when the doorbell rang. Laurie nodded off. I groaned. I put her into the bassinet and grabbed a robe. Who could it be at this time of day?

I stumbled to the front door and peered out the peephole. All I could see was a broad chest in a blue button shirt. Definitely not UPS.

“Who is it?”

“Investigator Galigani. Is Kate Connolly in?”

The police? What now? Shouldn’t he flash his badge at me or something? Was I getting overly paranoid?

“Where’s your badge?”

“I’m not with the police. I’m a private investigator.”

“Who hired you?”

He bent down to look through the peephole. I saw one green eye peering at me. I involuntarily pulled away.

“Mrs. Avery,” he said into the peephole.

“Mrs. Avery is dead,” I said.

The eye shifted. “Gloria Avery is dead?”

Who was Gloria?

I placed the chain lock on the door and opened it two inches.

Investigator Galigani was tall, dark, and not handsome. He had a huge black mustache on a very round face. He frowned at the chain, which only succeeded in making him look mean and angry.

“I don’t know who Gloria is,” I said. “I meant Michelle Avery is dead.”

“Ah.” His face softened a bit. “Are you Kate?”

I nodded.

“May I come in, ma’am?”

There was the “ma’am” again. I glanced down at my pale green terrycloth robe. No! Why did I have to get interrogated again? Especially looking like this.

“I’ve got a newborn. I’m really tired-”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

“How do I know that you are who you say you are?”

The ends of his mustache turned up. “Here’s my card.”

What did that prove? I let his card hang between his fingers. He wiggled it at me. I took it.

“Would you like to call Mrs. Avery?” he asked. “She’ll verify that she’s hired me.”

“Do you have a photo ID?”

His face broke apart with laughter. Mustache going one way, bottom lip the other way.

I tried not to be offended. “What good would it do if she says she hired ‘Galigani’ when all I have to prove that you’re Galigani is a business card?”

“You’re right. Here you go.” He opened his wallet and shoved his driver’s license at me. “This, too.” He dug into the wallet and pulled out a worn private investigator license from the State of California issued to Albert Galigani.

“What’s her number?”

His face registered surprise. “You’re actually going to call her?”

“I’m a new mom, my car’s been broken into twice, my brother-in-law is missing, and I found my friend dead yesterday. I can’t let a stranger into my house. What if you try to kill me?”