Motherhood Is Murder Part 39

I was blowing Laurie's chance at swim lessons at the premier spot in San Francisco!

'Just because I was snooping a little . . .'

She motioned to the front door. 'Thank you for coming by, Mrs. Connolly.'

I arrived home in a funk. Jim was online searching for recipes on turkey brines.

'I got Laurie boxed out of swim cla.s.ses.'

'Hmmm. Do you think this one sounds good?' He handed me a printout as I pa.s.sed Laurie to him.

'I'll have to leave the turkey brining overnight,' Jim continued. 'Maybe I can use the ice chest again?'

'The hag at the front desk erased our name off the list.'

'What hag?'

'I'm telling you. No swim cla.s.ses for Laurie. We were axed.'

Jim looked surprised. 'What does she need swim cla.s.ses for? She's barely awake for five minutes at a time.'

'Well, you know, by the time she's ready, we won't be able to take her there. They have a long wait list and now we're not even on it.'

'Where?'

'The little frog swim place.'

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 s.e.xy 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 princ.i.p.al 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?

She did have long fingers. Perhaps the piano.

I put my cell phone away in my diaper purse and rummaged past Laurie's puppy for a piece of gum. For fun I pressed the puppy's ear and listened to Laurie's recorded coos. I listened to the playback about a dozen times.

What in the world was I doing here?

This was ridiculous. I should be home with munchkin and Daddy.

A blue car turned the corner and rolled down the street past me. I strained to get a look at the driver. I watched in the rearview mirror as the car pulled up to the center doors. I was parked down the street, hoping I was far enough to be tucked out of view.

The center doors opened and Celia rushed out to the car.

Could it be Howard?

Come on, come on. I need a break here!

Celia helped the driver out. It was Evelyn! She was hunched over. Celia held her as she rocked back and forth.

Oh my gosh! Evelyn was in labor. She was going to have her baby!

After a few moments Evelyn stood straight up. Celia helped her to the center and looked down the block.

Had she seen the van?

Oh, well. Not like she'd be running off to see Howard now. May as well head home and knock some items off my to-do list.

Wait, Kenny was on his way here. I grabbed my phone to see if I could reach him. If I could catch him before he left, then I wouldn't be stuck here waiting for him.

I dug around my bag for my phone. I dialed Kenny but got his voice mail. I started to text him when I heard a car start.

I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Evelyn's car zooming toward me. Celia was driving.

Wait.

Where was she going in Evelyn's car? What about Evelyn in labor? Maybe Celia was simply reparking the car.

I studied the spot where the car had been. It looked like a legal spot.

My phone rang in my hand. I glanced at the caller ID. Paula.

'Did you find anything?'

'I did!' She was breathless. 'I found the story, and then I called the paper and spoke to the writer. She was able to look up the midwife's name for me. Get this. Cecelia Martinez.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

Labor

Cecelia Martinez?

What did this mean? I knew her as Celia Martin-certainly that was an alias . . . or was it all a coincidence?

Wait! When I had been at the hospital, the nurse had called her Martinez. Yes! She'd said that.

'Kate. What do you know about that adoption she was arranging?' Paula asked.

My throat felt thick. It was difficult to breathe. 'No. They can't be related. The story in Miami is more than a couple years old, right? Bruce and Helene were going to adopt a newborn, Celia's cousin's baby. I saw Helene's plane ticket from SFO to Costa Rica. There were notes about traveling with an infant.'

I recalled the moms at La Pet.i.te Grenouille this afternoon discussing plane travel. Children over two years old needed their own ticket.

'Wait. What did you say?' Paula asked. 'Did you say SFO to Costa Rica?'

'Yeah.'

'Why would she be traveling with an infant from SFO? Wouldn't she be traveling there solo and then flying back back with the baby?' with the baby?'

I needed air. I cracked open the window and felt a breeze hit my face.

'Oh my G.o.d! They were going to steal a baby. Celia and Helene were going to steal a baby. I'm sure of it. Only maybe Helene had changed her mind. She canceled the construction plans and was going to leave Bruce. She was going to live with Alan and fight for custody of his children. It's all making sense now!'