Motherhood Is Murder

I hoisted myself on the table and waited for Alan.

A few minutes passed and then came a knock on the door. It creaked open before I could respond. Alan entered, wearing a blue polo shirt and Dockers. His curly hair was unruly and there were dark circles under his eyes.

He stuck out his hand. “Mrs. Connolly, I’m Dr. Lipe.”

“Hello, Alan.” I shook his hand. “Do you remember me? From the cruise on the other night—”

“Of course, yes. Of course. Terrible night.” He moved his head up and down repeatedly as though trying to sift through some memories. “You’re a private investigator, correct?”

I nodded.

“Yes. I recall Margaret saying so. We saw each other again at Helene’s service.”

“That’s right.”

He glanced at my feet. “What kind of problems are you having? What can I do you for?”

“Um.” I looked at my feet as well. “Uh. I just had a baby—”

“Congratulations! When?”

“She’s seven weeks old.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled, but it did little to light up his face. “And your feet are giving you problems?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

He nodded. “Take off your shoes.”

I kicked off my Keds and dangled my feet off the table.

He picked up my left foot and squeezed it gently then rotated my foot. My ankle cracked and popped.

“Margaret is heartbroken about Helene,” I said.

He looked at me for a split second. There was surprise on his face, but he quickly adjusted his expression back to blank. “Yes. They were best friends. Tell me about your feet.”

“They’re swollen all the time and none of my shoes fit.”

He nodded. “That’s very common following a pregnancy. Do you have pain?”

I didn’t. Not really, but not fitting into your shoes didn’t seem like a reason to visit a podiatrist, so I said,

“Yes.”

He dropped my left foot and picked up my right one. He palpated the foot then rotated the ankle. “Your feet aren’t swollen now. Would you say you had a lot of swelling during pregnancy?”

“Yes,” I said.

He seemed so sincere. So caring. So gentle.

For a murderer.

“With Helene gone, Margaret’s probably at a loss. It could put a strain on a marriage,” I said.

He dropped my foot as if it had just given him a shock. “Typically after pregnancy, pain can be caused by the edema, which put pressure on the structures of the feet and nerves. Even after the edema leaves, there may be pain.” He pointed to the print on the wall and started to outline some ligaments. “I think you could benefit from a pair of orthotics.”

Orthotics?

There was nothing sexy about that. I only wanted to be able to fit into my cute open-toed shoes again.

“Umm, they don’t really hurt all that much . . .”

He looked upset.

“Doctor, what do you think happened to Helene the other night? It was all so sudden.”

He paled. “I don’t know.”

“It’s strange, though, isn’t it? You were with her when she died, weren’t you?” I tested.

He took a step back and swallowed. “Unfortunate set of circumstances.” He turned his back on me and steadied himself by putting his hands on the small set of drawers. “Shall we schedule you for the prescription orthotics?”

He waited for my reply with his back to me.

He was as uncomfortable speaking to me as I had been with Inspector McNearny.

“What do you think was the cause of death?”

He whipped around, his face set in stone. “I’m not the medical examiner. Look, are you here about your feet or something else?”

I let my feet dangle and furrowed my brows. “What else would I be here about?”

“What are all these questions about? Are you investigating me?”

“Why would I?”

He self-consciously smoothed down his shirt and shifted his eyes around the room. He took a breath. “Right. Have Joan schedule you for a follow-up.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Keeping Up

To Do:

1. Talk to Miss No-Nonsense.

2. Get manicure.

3. Order turkey.

4. When’s Paula coming home?

5. Build up milk supply—pump, pump, pump!!!

The following day, I decided to pop in on Sara. She hadn’t returned my phone calls and I was starting to get antsy about her.

Was she avoiding me?

I packed Laurie into the car and headed to Jordan Park, which was down the street from California Pacific Hospital, where Laurie was born. This same hospital had also been the initial meeting place for Roo amp; You members, since they had all given birth to their first children and taken classes there, too. Well, all of them except Helene.

And what about these home births?

I had a hard enough time keeping my place clean; now I imagined the mess of a home birth. Blood, placenta, and goo on the baby. Good Lord. Why on earth would anyone want to do that?

Well, now, no reason to be critical. I’m sure people had their reasons—it just simply wasn’t for me.

Jordan Park is a beautiful neighborhood but lacks parking like most of San Francisco. I circled around and was surprised to see Margaret in front of her house watering the lawn. I double-parked, rolled down my window, and called to her.

She looked up, startled, then waved at me to wait a moment. She put down the hose, rushed to her garage to turn off the water, then came over to my car.

She was wearing a slip dress that accentuated her slimness, making her look as if the wind could blow her over. In contrast to the whimsical look of the dress, she had on clunky green mules that seemed to ground her. To combat the weather she had on a wool scarf and hat, although I can never understand how people don’t freeze with bare arms and legs.

She rested her hands on my car and leaned in. “Have you found anything out?”