Motherhood Is Murder

“You do tape your interviews, don’t you?”

I was supposed to tape them?

“Uh . . . no . . . I mean . . . yes. Of course. Just not this one. I had a problem with my . . . device.”

“It happens. Okay, type up a summary and fax it to Mandy.”

I hung up as the front door squeaked open.

Jim appeared, dripping from his run. “Look at what the cat dragged in,” he said.

Paula trailed him. “Looks more like you’ve been dragged. What happened to you?” she teased.

Jim laughed, greeted Mom, then kissed me. “I’m jumping in the shower.”

Mom stopped him. “Wait! Look at what I brought back for you!”

She handed a towel-wrapped Laurie to me and proceeded to put on the poncho. She threw the mariachi hat onto the floor and sang the tune to the “Mexican Hat Dance.”

Paula laughed hysterically watching Mom dance around in the red Converse and poncho.

Jim looked concerned. “Is that safe?”

Mom frowned. “What’s unsafe about it?”

Paula pointed to my feet, still clad in the Converse, and giggled. Jim simply shook his head.

“I love the ‘Mexican Hat Dance,’ ” Paula said.

“The ‘Jarabe Tapatío’!” Mom exclaimed with the worst Spanish accent imaginable. “How was Paris?”

As they caught up with each other, Jim showered and I got Laurie dressed. When I’d finished, I joined them in the living room and brought Paula up to speed on my interview with Celia.

“Was Celia on that cruise?” Paula asked.

“No,” I said.

“If she’s not a suspect for killing Helene, why didn’t you just ask her if she’s seeing Alan?” Paula asked. “If I was dating a married man who was suspected of murder, I’d want to know.”

Mom rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “People don’t generally tell the truth about affairs, though. Do they? Especially to someone she knows is friendly with the wife. No. If she’s in love with him, then she’ll protect him.”

“Not if he poisoned her,” Paula said.

“We don’t know that, and even still,” Mom said, “maybe they’re working together. Maybe she allowed the podiatrist to give her a little something to knock her out but not kill her. If he’s a doctor, he would know about dosages and the like.”

I sat to attention.

Paula shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

“Is it?” I asked.

I hadn’t considered that option. Could Celia and Alan be working together? Or Celia and Bruce, for that matter?

“You should just ask her about Alan,” Paula insisted.

I shook my head. “She knows I’m working for Margaret. She knows I would report it to her.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

Suddenly Paula said, “I could ask her. I’ll go to her midwife center and pretend I’m looking for a midwife. She won’t suspect me of being connected to you.”

Mom jumped up. “And I can see the podiatrist! He can look at my bunions!”

Paula leapt up. She and Mom sprang into a spontaneous rendition of the “Jarabe Tapatío.” I turned Laurie on my lap so she was sitting up and facing them. She let out a little giggle and pedaled her feet as though she wanted to dance, too.

I watched them dance with more verve than a sixty-year-old woman with bunions and seven-months-pregnant woman should have.

When they’d finished, I said, “Even though I think you two should really get out a bit more, I can’t let you do this.”

“What?” Mom exclaimed. “Why not? We’re the perfect undercover team! No one will suspect a thing!”

“You have no training or experience,” I said.

This comment launched them into hysterics. Paula could barely breathe as she grabbed my copy of The Complete Idiot’s Guide and waved it around, making Mom double over and gasp for air.

Jim appeared, freshly showered and looking relaxed. “If there’s going to be more singing and dancing here, I’ll have to leave immediately,” he said.

“Don’t worry!” Paula patted his shoulder. “Mom and I are on a mission. We’ll be out of here shortly!”

I pressed the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure about this, guys?”

Mom and Paula nodded emphatically. Jim simply looked from one to the other then back at me.

“You both have good pretexts. I learned that this morning,” I said, pointing to the book Paula still had in her hand.

“I don’t know what that is,” Mom said, “but don’t worry, darling, we’ll do it for free.”

“Don’t you have to get back to Danny?” I asked Paula.

“My in-laws took Danny to the lake cabin last night and David’s at work. So, I have nothing better to do.”

“If you’re bored, you can always stay here and do laundry,” I said.

Paula and Mom both shook their heads.

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “Honey, can you run down to Radio Shack for us? I need you to buy some stuff for a tap.”

“A what?” Jim asked.

“Gary wants all my interviews to be recorded and this book I’m reading has a chapter on how to do it.”

“I can record mine on my phone! It’s got a cool voice recording feature,” Paula said.

“No. You can’t do that. What are you going to do?” I imitated Paula voice: “Celia, tell me if you’re having an affair with Alan. Clunk.” I pantomimed putting down the phone on the table. “Pretty conspicuous.”

“I wouldn’t do it like that,” Paula said.

“I thought you couldn’t record anybody without their permission. It’s illegal,” Jim said.

“Technically yes, that’s true. But I’m not going to submit it as evidence or anything. If we get any information relevant to the case, then Gary would have to depose them.”

“Depose, ooh. You’re using fancy words now,” Paula said.

“Can you tell I’ve been studying? Anyway, I just want to feel like I was there or you two will end up having to repeat the entire conversation for me and it’s very likely we could miss something.”

“Yeah. I’m ready to be wired!” Mom said.

Jim patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Mom, you already are.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Preparation

We sent Jim with a list of items to our neighborhood Radio Shack. Then Mom proceeded to dial Dr. Alan Lipe’s office looking for an appointment. I warned her that he was booked up for a month and I’d only gotten my appointment because of a cancellation. She ignored me and dialed.

Paula, wanting to appear convincing, was at my computer researching midwives and the benefits of home births. With my primary PI tools in use, the computer and the phone, I reclined on the couch with Laurie in one arm and the Idiot’s Guide in the other. As soon as I began to read, my doorbell rang.