Motherhood Is Murder

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 raccoon eyes from my streaky mascara and my hair was totally flat.

I unbuttoned 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 buttons 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 passable.

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.

Might as well start with something I knew.

I recounted for him my first meeting with Helene and Margaret and then began on the dinner cruise.

“You were on the cruise?” Gary asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. It was my first night meeting most of the mommy group.”

Gary looked confused.

I waved away his concern. “Long story. Anyway, what I do know is that there were reports of Helene and Sara fighting just before Helene’s demise.”

Gary didn’t try to hide his surprise. His eyebrows rose, although due to the asymmetry of his face, his right eyebrow shot up quite high while his left one moved only slightly. I had to smile in spite of myself.

“Where did you get this information?” he asked.

“Another former member of the Roo amp; You group. She was asked to leave the group because her kid bit a baby.”

Gary rose, crossed to his desk, and picked up a legal pad. “Really? I used to be a biter.”

I laughed. “Is that where you got your nickname?” Gary looked taken aback.

Oops. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“You know about my nickname?”

I swallowed. Well, my foot was in it now. May as well proceed.

“Sure. Gary the Grizzly.”

He laughed and looked pleased with himself. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

I smiled.

He scribbled something on the legal pad. “Okay, what else do you know?”

I explained that, according to several sources, Dr. Alan Lipe was having an affair. That he and his wife, Margaret, had fought that evening and Margaret suspected he may have poisoned Helene by mistake.

Gary took notes. When I finished, he looked up. “What else you got?”

“What else do you got?” I countered.

Gary smiled. “Ah. Tough cookie, huh? You want a little quid pro quo?”

I nodded.

“I’m giving you a copy of my client’s interrogation.”

“He asked you to,” I answered.

Gary chewed on the cap of his pen and squinted at me. “Are we on the same team here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has Bruce hired you, or what?”

I glanced around the room. “Not exactly.”

“Who are you working for?” Gary asked.

Time to come clean.

“I was hired by Margaret Lipe.”

Gary nodded. “You think Bruce is guilty.”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “It was just Bruce, Celia, and I at his place, and I know I didn’t poison Celia.”

“What does Margaret Lipe think?” Gary asked.

I hesitated. Frankly I didn’t know what Margaret thought about the attempt on Celia’s life, because she hadn’t called me back.

How much should I disclose to Gary?

Did I have any obligation of confidentiality to Margaret?

“Well, Margaret suspected Alan, and I understand that for Helene’s murder—but what about Celia? If it was just the three of us at Bruce’s house, how can it be anyone other than Bruce?” I asked.

“Maybe Celia was with the doctor right before she showed up at Bruce’s. Maybe she’s the other woman and the doc told her he was going to get rid of his wife and then botched it. But now Celia knows about the accident and he’s scared she’ll say something to the police, so he slips her something on her way to Bruce’s.”

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t Celia tell the police that her lover killed Helene and then maybe tried to poison her?”

Gary shrugged. “Maybe she hasn’t put it all together. Or maybe she’s protecting him. You’d be surprised about the things people don’t tell the police. Well, probably you wouldn’t, if you’ve been doing PI work long.”

I tried to look as experienced as I could by composing my features into a serious reflective look and nodded.

He must have bought into my acting because he said, “Let’s start there, with the midwife. She knows something. Stake her out, see where she goes. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He chomped on the pen cap thoughtfully. “You think we can come to an arrangement?” he asked.

I studied his eyes. “What kind of an arrangement?”

“I have a PI I use to look into things. Because you know my time . . .”

“Right. Your time is pretty valuable.”

Gary smiled.

“Your reputation precedes you.” I laughed.