Jim frowned. ?Uh-huh. Okay, Kate, do you need to lie down or something??
?I don?t want her to drown.?
?I?ll teach her how to swim,? Jim said.
I sat at the computer as Jim took Laurie into the kitchen to inventory ingredients needed for the brine.
I e-mailed Gary, filling him in on my suspicions about Celia?s affair with Howard, and informing him about Sara?s alibi. I kept my meeting with Margaret out of the report. At this point she was probably the strongest suspect outside of Bruce, and I feared Gary would use that as leverage.
Was it really appropriate to leave it out? After all, I didn?t have any control over who was guilty. I really just wanted justice.
I checked my news update feed. The riots downtown were escalating and hundreds of arrests had been made. Before I logged off, I refreshed my e-mail. A response from Gary had arrived in my inbox.
Kate,
Tail Celia, see if she leads you to Howard. Maybe he?s our guy.
G
I sat outside Celia?s center in Kenny?s van. Jim had agreed to watch Laurie for the afternoon and I was determined to find out one way or another if Celia was seeing Howard.
To kill time, I dialed Paula and recounted for her the swimming story. She was much more sympathetic to Laurie?s being blacklisted than Jim had been.
?Where are you now?? she asked.
?Outside the midwife center waiting for her to lead me to her lover, Howard.?
Paula laughed.
?What??
?Is that guy, Howard, attractive??
?Sort of. Irish guy, light-colored eyes, good bod, you know, construction and all. Why??
?I guess I imagine her with a sexy Latin guy, like a
?Jose,? not a ?Howard,? but that?s probably because she?s Latin and from Miami.?
?She?s not from Miami, she?s from L.A.?
?Really? She told me she was from Miami,? Paula said.
Suddenly I recalled Margaret telling me that she met Celia in Miami, the same day the photo was taken of her family on the beach.
Why would Celia tell me she was from L.A.? Why lie? Or had it been inadvertent? Lots of people in the Bay Area were transplants, and when asked from where, they didn?t give a laundry list of all the places they?d ever lived.
That was probably it. She?d lived in L.A. before or after Miami, no matter.
Miami?
Why did that stick out in my mind?
I recalled the news item I?d read on Google, the missing expectant mom on her way to a midwife . . . in Miami.
?Paula, I need you to look something up for me.?
I gave her as much search criteria as I could to find the news story, then hung up, but before I released my phone, it rang.
?Kate! It?s Kenny, guess what??
He sounded as though he?d won the lottery.
?The Opera called. The principal trombonist is sick. I get my chance to perform tonight!?
?That?s fantastic!? I said.
?I need my van. I?m sorry. I would take the streetcar, but all my gear is in the van.?
That would blow my stakeout.
?Oh. Hey, I have an idea,? I said. ?Why don?t you go over to my place and get my keys from Jim. You can drive out here in my car and we?ll swap.?
?That works!? Kenny said cheerfully, ringing off.
The San Francisco Opera.
I was proud of him. He deserved it. What a good kid!
I imagined Laurie all grown up and playing in the San Francisco Opera.
What instrument would she play? Maybe the violin?
