Motherhood Is Murder Part 24

Paula retreated down the hallway. I looked at Laurie sound asleep in her car seat. I quickly put my hand on her and felt rea.s.sured by the rise and fall of her belly.

I walked down the hallway to Paula's bedroom, stopping first to peek in on Danny. Paula had hand painted the room in baby blue with a mural of Thomas the Tank Engine on one wall. Sure looked a lot more inviting than Laurie's nursery that doubled as Jim's and my office.

I worried about having the computer in Laurie's nursery. Was it giving off any weird energy waves that I should be concerned about?

Add that to my to-do list: look up safety of computers in nursery!

Currently, she was spending the night in our room in her portable ba.s.sinet, but soon she would outgrow that and have to sleep down the hall. My heart dropped. She would be down the hall! So far away from me.

A big kid in her crib in her own room.

I peered over at Danny asleep in his crib. I marveled at how long he appeared; it seemed like only yesterday he had been an infant like Laurie.

I touched his soft hair. 'Hey, buddy, you're gonna be a big brother soon.'

He was fidgeting a bit and his mouth started to move as though he wanted to nurse or have a pacifier. Still asleep, his hand shot to his mouth and he started sucking his thumb.

'You're still a baby, too! I love you, little buddy.' I pulled his blanket up around him and headed toward Paula's bedroom.

I found her digging in her closet.

'Size?' she asked.

'Pre-Laurie was seven.'

'So eight?' Paula asked from inside the closet.

'I guess. I'm still trying to come to terms with it.'

Paula laughed and rummaged deeper into the closet.

'I have some frozen breast milk for Laurie in the diaper bag. She could be hungry when she wakes up. I also brought some formula, just in case I'm not back in time for the feeding after that. Oh, shoot . . .'

'What?' Paula asked from inside the closet.

'I didn't think about a purse. All my gear, my wallet, cell phone, notebook, and stuff is in the diaper bag.'

Paula emerged from the closet with the cla.s.siest pair of Ferragamo burgundy pumps I'd ever seen. They matched my blouse exactly. I gasped.

Paula grimaced. 'Just my luck. I was a size eight pre-Danny, now I'm a nine, so you can have them.'

I grabbed her around the neck and kissed her cheek, then slipped into the shoes. They felt simply divine. 'Ooh, I feel so in in!'

She laughed as she kicked the loafers I'd been wearing across the room. 'Well, those are definitely out out.'

'I'm matchy-matchy now!' I exclaimed. 'You are a lifesaver!'

Paula let out a self-satisfied sigh. 'I know. And you don't even know the half of it. I have the matching bag for you.'

She reached inside the closet and pulled out the purse. A lovely handbag that was large enough for my notebook, but sleek enough to belong to a media darling.

I sighed. 'Paula! It's beautiful.'

'You know my thing about bags and shoes.'

I studied my reflection in the mirror, posing with the shoes and holding the handbag to me. 'I look like I can fake it, huh?'

Paula smiled widely. 'Of course, girlfriend! Fake it 'til you make it.'

When I arrived at Gary Barramendi's office, I was greeted by a receptionist, who had on a Dior suit and more expensive shoes than I did. Her honey-colored hair was pinned at the sides and down in the back, framing her round young face. She looked to be in her early twenties. She a.s.sured me she would let Gary know I had arrived and showed me to a waiting room.

The waiting room boasted huge windows with a glorious view of Alcatraz. There was a station with coffee, tea, and water in the corner of the room, and in the center were several high-back chairs near a table covered with magazines.

On the wall opposite the windows a full-length mirror reflected views of Alcatraz throughout the room. But instead of focusing me on the view, it focused me on the image of me.

I had forgotten to put breast pads inside my bra.

Oh G.o.d! What if I leaked!

I pulled the door of the waiting room open and peeked out into the hallway. No trace of the receptionist or anyone else, but a ladies' room sign was prominent. I made a mad dash into the ladies' room and quickly pulled some tissues from a box on the marbled counter.

I folded a few sheets of tissue neatly and stuffed them into my bra. The result gave me square b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

I pulled the tissues out and tried a single sheet on each side. The padding was not as noticeable. I prayed only one sheet would be enough.

I returned to the waiting room and fiddled with the magazines. The glossy rags depicted yachting, golfing, and travel that I could only dream about. I wondered about Gary's clientele. Were they all that high-end?

I was totally out of my league. Each magazine I flipped through made me feel worse and worse, until I was a nervous wreck.

What was I doing here?

Women who had sat in this waiting room before me certainly didn't have tissues stuffed in their bras. Or worse, girdles to hold in their postpartum bellies. And they definitely, definitely didn't sit here in borrowed designer shoes with the accompanying handbag!

In the midst of my insecurity, the receptionist returned and ushered me into Gary's office.

The office was enormous, with an astonis.h.i.+ng view of the Bay Bridge. I felt as if I could lean out his window and touch traffic.

Gary Barramendi stood when I entered and offered me a warm handshake.

I was suddenly disarmed. He was young. Not what I had been expecting at all. He was very tall. Perhaps six-six. And extremely thin, bordering on gawky. He had dark bushy hair. His features appeared to be pushed together from all different angles and the left side of his face was almost completely different from the right side, yet everything was fused in the middle by his large nose.

Despite his unconventional face and stature, his smile was warm and his handshake firm and friendly, putting me at ease instantly.

'Hey. Gary Barramendi. Nice to meet you. I understand you know Bruce Chambers.'

'Yes.' I shook his hand with my best businesslike handshake and said, 'Kate Connolly, pleasure to meet you.'

Gary motioned to the sofa that hugged the left wall of the office. 'Have a seat.'

I was starting to feel confident. Gary wasn't a grizzly! This was going to be a good meeting.

I was channeling my future self. Confident, smart, pro-active.

I was feeling great!

I placed my beautiful burgundy Ferragamo handbag on the couch and took a seat next to it. Suddenly a horrifying loud ripping sound reverberated around the room.

I froze.

The Velcro closing on my girdle had given way. The entire thing came undone under my s.h.i.+rt. The b.u.t.tons on my silk blouse threatened to pop and the material between each b.u.t.ton gapped hideously open.

I moaned and swayed, feeling a bit faint.

Please, please, earth, swallow me whole.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Two's Better Than One?

Gary cleared his throat. 'Kate. There's a restroom here to the right.' He motioned across the room.

His voice sounded as though it was coming at me through a tunnel. I sat frozen, my mouth agape. I looked up at him with my mouth still open, feeling like a walleye fish.

He smiled. 'The restroom's right there,' he repeated.

'I just had a baby. I bought this stupid girdle thing online. I wanted to look professional . . .'

'A baby? That's so sweet. Got any pictures?'

'Uh.'

I didn't have any pictures! Not one.

What kind of mother was I?

I'd left my baby to come on this wild-goose chase in an outfit that didn't fit. Not only was I a bad mother, but an idiot, too!

Suddenly, tears streamed down my face.

Gary grabbed a box of tissues from his desk and sat next to me. 'How old is your baby?'

I swallowed hard and sort of gulped my tears, trying to bring myself back to the present. 'Two months.'

Gary nodded sympathetically and handed me the tissue box. 'My sister just had a baby. Beautiful little girl. She's four months. Me? I'm not married, so no kids yet. But man, they are something, huh?'

I nodded, slightly dumbfounded at the kindness of this stranger.

Gary stood and straightened his slacks. 'Listen, I'm going to pull Bruce's file. Take whatever time you need. Should I have Mandy make us some coffee?'

I stood and straightened my slacks, too, as if on cue. Suddenly my head was clear. I was here for business and I needed to get on with it.

'Yes. Coffee would be nice. I'll just be a moment.'

I headed to the restroom as Gary left the office.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, I evaluated myself in the mirror. It was worse than I had imagined. The blouse that I had been so pleased with and felt so pretty in now looked like a sausage casing gone bad. It was stretched to the limit. I had racc.o.o.n eyes from my streaky mascara and my hair was totally flat.

I unb.u.t.toned my blouse and re-Velcroed the girdle. I then checked the tissue I had stuffed into my bra. It was soaked, but thankfully hadn't leaked.

I shoved clean dry tissue into my bra, then redid the b.u.t.tons on the blouse. Miraculously, it looked fine again.

I sat on the toilet and tested the Velcro. It held. I stood, then sat again and rocked back and forth. The Velcro slipped a bit. I jumped as though I'd just been bitten and redid the girdle a little looser. This time the blouse didn't look as great as before, but the Velcro didn't slip either. I decided that was the better option.

I washed my face and cleaned off the mascara, then teased my hair a bit for some volume. Overall, physically the effect was fine. Not fabulous, but pa.s.sable.

What about feeling like an idiot, though?

Nothing I could do about that but suck it up.

Stop pretending I was somebody I wasn't. Thin, confident, experienced. And start telling the truth.

When I emerged from the restroom, Gary was seated comfortably on the couch looking completely untraumatized. In fact, he looked so relaxed holding a cup of coffee in one hand and flipping through a file that rested on his lap with the other, that I wondered if I had imagined the entire incident.

He looked up when I entered and smiled. 'We won't get the preliminary report the uniforms took on the evening of November fifth or any of the medical examiner's findings from the toxicology screen unless they formally charge Bruce. The only thing in here are my notes from the police interview the other day.' He closed the file and rose, indicated a coffee tray on a side table. 'Help yourself. I'm going to ask Mandy to photocopy this for you.'

He left the room and I poured myself a cup of coffee. I sat on the couch and tested the girdle. Everything held. I tried not to focus on the girdle and sipped the coffee instead.

Gary returned, smiling. 'Here we go. This is the full transcription from the interview.'

He handed me the file and I opened it.

It looked like somebody had written the pages in German. I fought to keep my eyes from glazing over from the legalese.