Motherhood Is Murder

Why would homicide attend the funeral if they thought it was an accident?

That had to be wrong.

Obviously, Celia was thinking the same thing because she said, ?Why would the police come to her funeral??

?I don?t know,? I admitted.

I felt her eyes on me.

I changed topics. ?Were you Helene?s midwife??

She looked at me curiously. ?No. Helene didn?t have any children.?

No children?

?I thought she founded the mommy group with Margaret,? I said.

?Did she?? Celia shrugged. ?I guess she was very anxious to be a part of the group. I think she really wanted to get pregnant, but well, we don?t always get what we want, huh??

That made no sense. Why hang out with a mommy group if you weren?t one?

I had grieved for children who I thought lost their mother last night. Turned out I was wrong.

?What about her family? Parents? Siblings??

?I think her parents passed away a while ago. I don?t know. I don?t think she had any siblings either. Maybe that?s why she wanted to have kids so bad. It?s hard not to have a family.? Celia indicated an exit from the freeway. ?That?s our exit.?

We pulled up to Bruce?s parents? estate in Hillsborough, a beautiful wooded community just south of San Francisco. As I parked, Margaret emerged from the house. She rushed down the pebbled path toward my car and appeared at my driver side window.

?Oh my goodness! I?m so glad you have Celia! I wasn?t thinking back there, Celia. I didn?t mean to leave you,? Margaret said.

Celia flashed a brilliant smile. ?No worries. Kate was kind enough to give me a lift.?

?I?ll take you home. I promise,? Margaret said.

We climbed out of the car and walked in unison on the path toward the house, then single-filed into the grand entrance. Approximately thirty people mingled about the living room. It was a catered affair?no meatball sandwiches, but still a nice layout.

Celia made her way to a table that was doubling as a bar and spoke with the man serving wine.

Margaret joined her husband and Sara in a corner of the room. The three quietly balanced their plates and picked sparingly at their food.

Witnessing their grief made my appetite vanish.

I spotted Helene?s husband, Bruce, hovering near the back door looking like he wanted to escape. His head hung a bit and his shoulders slumped, emanating a deep sadness.

I joined him at the doorway. ?Bruce, I am so sorry for your loss.?

He studied me a moment, his eyes penetrating and dark, then looked out the window of the back door at the garden. I followed his gaze and watched as the wind bent branches on the willow tree in the garden.

?Thank you for coming,? he said.

I nodded, feeling awkward. Another guest joined us and gave her condolences to Bruce. I didn?t have any more to add to the conversation, so I slipped away.

My breasts were burning and I longed to be home with Laurie and Jim. I glanced at my watch. I had now been away from home for three hours. Time to go.

I looked around for Celia to make sure she had a ride home. I watched as she sauntered up to Bruce. She held two wineglasses and offered him one. Bruce smiled widely, and when he took the glass, their hands brushed and both flushed.

Bruce looked around the room, then said something to Celia. They exchanged words in a hushed tense tone. I was out of earshot but their conversation certainly looked intimate. I glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them.

What was going on?

Celia looked away from Bruce. He glanced in my direction. I avoided his gaze by perusing the buffet. He reached for her elbow and drew her in closer. He whispered into her ear and, with a final look over his shoulder, guided her out the back door to the garden.

Hmmm.

Could they be having an affair?

CHAPTER SIX

Batting 100

To Do:

1. ?

2. ?

3. Find good ?how to? book for PI business.

4. Exercise.