Motherhood Is Murder

I made a mad dash into the master bedroom. There were gorgeous gold curtains and a matching coverlet on the bed. The furniture was handsome and heavy. An antique set of dressers adorned either side of the bed. On top of each dresser were gold candlesticks and several dishes that held knickknacks.

I circled the room quickly. The closet looked in order, nothing out of the ordinary. It would help if I knew what I was looking for, but I was clueless. I entered the master bath and pulled open the medicine chest: cold creams, makeup, makeup remover, and nicotine patches. Looked like Helene had taken Margaret?s advice and bought some. I peeked in the package?half empty. Apparently they hadn?t worked for her either, because that night on the cruise she still wanted a cigarette.

Sadness filled my gut and I felt a hopelessness overcome me.

What was I looking for?

If I was Bruce, where would I hide a poison? Certainly not in the bathroom. That would be obvious. I returned to the bedroom. If he still had anything incriminating, which he probably didn?t?unless he was planning on poisoning someone else . . .

Paula was alone with him upstairs.

Fear raced through me and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I knew she was fine. It was more likely that I?d be caught snooping than anything happening to Paula.

If I were Bruce, I would hide poison . . . where?

I went to one of the dressers and pulled opened the top drawer. My hands were shaking. The drawer held ties and silk handkerchiefs. The balance of the dresser held clothes, and the closest thing I got to poison was a few mothballs.

On top of the dresser the little gold dish held a pair of cuff links and some loose change.

I had to get out of the room. They could return at any second and I would be caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

For my final snooping, because it is beyond my nature to stop myself from snooping before I actually have to, I yanked open Helene?s top drawer. It was filled with designer scarves, slips, and bras. I opened the next drawer: panties, hose, and some lingerie. The remaining drawers held sweaters, tops, and finally jeans.

I was out of drawers and out of luck.

On top of her dresser the gold dish held rings, a bracelet, and three pairs of earrings. I fingered the jewelry and the dish slipped a bit, revealing an envelope tucked underneath. It wasn?t hidden exactly, more like held in place for safekeeping under the dish. I pulled the envelope out and looked inside.

It was a plane ticket, printed from her home computer. SFO to Costa Rica. It was an open ticket; no date was set. And the Special Note on the bottom stated she?d be flying with an infant.

Sadness overtook me. This was Helene?s ticket for when the adoption occurred. Of course, no date was set. They were waiting for the baby to be born. And now what? How would this little baby grow up? Without Helene, Bruce wouldn?t take the baby. And probably he wasn?t a fit father anyway. Celia was most likely right about that.

What about the affair? Could Helene have been ready to back out from the adoption? Bruce wanted kids of his own; he had told me that from the first.

Helene had canceled the addition to the condo. Had Bruce known and just played dumb when I asked him?

It seemed like Helene was planning on leaving him and moving with Alan to North Carolina.

Perhaps Bruce had found out about the affair and Helene?s plans, then he killed Helene out of anger and decided to stop the adoption proceedings.

Then poisoned Celia. Why? Maybe he thought she would force the adoption? Now he said he wanted to donate the money to the orphanage.

Buy his way out of looking guilty.

And what did it all matter anyway? Bruce had hired the slickest attorney in town, one who thought the truth was overrated, and now I was working for him!

So much for my hopes as a media darling.

I felt nauseous. I had to leave. Get Paula out of here, as far away from that murderer as possible.

Adrenaline surged within me, causing my hands to shake even further.

I jammed the printout back into the envelope and secured it in place under the dish. I left the bedroom and returned to the living room just as Paula and Bruce were descending the staircase.

?That view is spectacular!? Paula said enthusiastically.

I headed straight for the front door and tugged it open. ?Come on, let?s go.?

Bruce stopped short and looked at me. ?Is everything all right, Kate??

?Uh . . . yeah. My husband called. I gotta run.? I reached out and put my hand on Paula?s waist. Doing what I could to mask the shaking, I ushered her out the door.

She gave me a knowing look and kept moving.

I crossed the threshold of the doorway and jerked it closed behind me. Paula and I darted down the three flights of steps and pushed through the main condo doors on the first level, squinting into the low November sunlight.

Neither of us spoke until we were inside my car.

?What did you find?? Paula asked, slamming the car door shut.