Bundle of Trouble

I heard footsteps again. Tears sprang to my eyes. I was going to die in this half-renovated Victorian. Just like Michelle.

Who only renovates half a house anyway? Why couldn’t she have put new windows in the bedroom? It wasn’t like she didn’t have the money.

I crouched down farther into the bathtub.

The front door squeaked open, then slammed shut.

Were they gone?

Thank God. I crawled out of the bathtub and pulled open the bathroom door.

I had to get out of here fast.

What kind of stupid idea was it to come here anyway? I left the bedroom and entered the hall. I flew past the kitchen toward the entryway and smack into Rich.

I gasped.

He stared at me, his face beet red. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I had to think fast!

“Oh, my God!” I covered my heart with my hand. “You startled me. I was in the garden, watering.” I smiled my most innocent, sincere smile. All those years of im prov couldn’t go to waste. “What are you doing here?”

The redness in his face was dissipating. He smiled now, too. His flirt smile, honed by years of skirt chasing. “Well, I came over to water, too!”

Right.

Still in character, I squeezed his arm. “Aw! If I had known, I could have saved you the trip.”

I delicately sidestepped him, heading toward the front door.

Move, move, now! a voice inside my head ordered.

Rich pushed his shoulder out a bit, just slightly but enough to block my way. “How long you been here?”

I blinked up at him. “Not long. It only took a few minutes to water.”

Why didn’t I have a gun, dammit? Or mace or something, anything, to protect myself! I hated to have to suck up to this creep.

If I was going to be legit, I’d need the PI license and a gun permit.

Rich pushed his hand against the door. He looked me up and down. “You want to get a drink?”

Oh, for God’s sake!

I feigned disappointment. “I’d love to, but I have to get back home. To my baby.” I enunciated “baby” for good measure.

He nodded. “Right! Hey, listen! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my being here to Mrs. A.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to break the flirt/airhead character I was in. I smiled, and tilted my head to the side. “No prob.”

He let go of the door. “Thanks. I. . she. . just gets weird about stuff.”

I seized the moment to pull open the door. “Got to run,” I called over my shoulder, wiggling my fingers as I bounced down the steps without looking back.

My heart was racing. Laurie, Jim, and safety were the only things on my mind.

As soon as I was out of sight, I ran toward my Chevy. I glanced over my shoulder. Rich hadn’t followed me. I got into the car and started the engine as quickly as I could.

I locked the doors, just in case. An image of Rich running after me, trying to get in through the passenger side window, flashed through my mind. Something like you’d see in the movies. A quick check of my rearview mirror told me he’d already forgotten about me and was probably busy searching the house again.

•CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE•

The Sixth Week-Pushing

When I arrived home, I found Jim wearing my green flannel bathrobe. I laughed “What are you doing?”

Jim flapped his arms up and down in despair. “It’s the only thing that would calm her down.”

“Wearing my robe?”

“I read it online. I guess the robe has your scent on it. She feels like Mom is holding her when I’m wearing it.”

I kissed him. “You are so sweet! Anything for your little girl, huh?”

He nuzzled my neck. “Anything for my girls, big or little. I even vacuumed.”

Raising my eyebrows, I said, “Anything?”

Jim winked.

“I need you to look at something.” I pulled the reports from the diaper purse and handed them to him. He seated himself on the sofa to read the reports.

The phone interrupted his reading. It was Jim’s former client, Dirk Jonson. He wanted a follow-up meeting.

When Jim left for his meeting, I fussed around the house, carrying and rocking Laurie. I jumped on and offline, e-mailing Paula and doing research. On a whim, I asked Paula if she recalled any “Carol” from our high school class, since Mr. Creepy had gone to a Holy Rosary dance with someone by that name and met Brad Avery that night.

I wondered about background checks. Galigani said he’d run one on George. Maybe I could run one on Mr. Creepy.

I finally admitted to myself it was time to recruit help on the PI front. I dialed Galigani in the hospital.

“How’s your recovery coming along?”

“They’re releasing me today. The miracles they work with surgery!” He paused for a moment, then continued, “I got very nice flowers from my former client Mrs. Avery.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She enclosed a curious note.”

No!

“Curious, how?”

“She thanked me for sending over such a wonderful replacement.”

Relief washed over me. “That was nice.”

“Nice? I don’t remember sending you over there as my replacement.”

“You said. . You told me. . I went there to tell her you were dropping the case. .”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“But she thought. . she thought. . I let her think I was your replacement. That I was a PI because I want to start my own business and set my own hours to be with my daughter and I’m having fun and being challenged and she was ready to hire me, so I-”

“You let her think you were my replacement!”

I steadied myself for his wrath. “Yes.”

Galigani burst out laughing.

Instead of relief, I felt annoyed. I let him laugh a moment longer. When he didn’t stop, I said, “It’s not that funny.”

He kept laughing.

I played with the antenna on the cordless phone and waited him out. “Are you done?”

“I’ll just wipe these tears.”

“Ha ha.”

“Okay, let me guess, are you calling for a little guidance, a little help?”

“I was calling to see how you were doing.” We both chuckled. “I didn’t call for a little help. I need a lot of help.”