Bundle of Trouble(10)
The receptionist returned. Michelle became silent, composed herself, then took the forms from the girl.
“Let me help you with your things,” Michelle said, grabbing one of George’s bags and heading toward the door.
From her tone, I understood she wanted to speak to me in private, and hey, I needed help with the bags, so how could I refuse?
We walked in silence toward my car. The wind had picked up, and despite the fact we were enjoying Indian summer, the best time of year in San Francisco, it was starting to get chilly.
I tried to process what Michelle had said. Her husband had been murdered? What were George’s things doing on that pier? Was he connected to the Averys?
At my car, Michelle dumped George’s bag into the trunk. One bag caught on the trunk latch, toppling over. A few T-shirts spilled out onto the street. Michelle and I bent to pick them up.
I had to lean on the car in order to get up. Maybe leaving the house hadn’t been such a good idea. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus.
“What were you doing at the medical examiner’s office?” she asked.
I stuffed the T-shirts into the bag.
What could I say? If Michelle was a suspect in her husband’s murder, wouldn’t George be a suspect also?
I slammed my trunk shut. “My brother-in-law’s bags were found on the pier where—”
“Brad was found. Yes, the police mentioned something about that,” she said, trying to keep her hair from flying into her face. “They think it’s totally unrelated and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“What?”
“The cops think it’s unrelated because George’s bags were found last week and Brad’s been missing since June.” She handed me a silver bracelet. “Here, this fell, too.”
Too tired to open the trunk again, I stuffed it into my pocket. “Do you know George? Did Brad?”
Michelle hesitated and looked around. The receptionist from the medical examiner’s office walked toward us, then past us, presumably on her way to lunch since it was almost noon. I needed to get back and feed Laurie, not to mention myself.
My stomach growled. I placed a hand over it, trying to suppress it. “Do you know where George is? Is he all right?”
Michelle’s eyes lingered on the receptionist as she clicked away from us in her fake Jimmy Choos.
She put a hand on my forearm and pulled me close to her. “Listen, Kate, will you come to my place tomorrow?” Her face looked drawn and she seemed tired. What did my face look like with all of the two hours’ sleep I’d gotten since Laurie was born?
“I’d love to talk to you . . . catch up and stuff . . . well, and I’d like to talk to you”—Michelle looked up and down the block again—“about Brad.”
I nodded. “I’ll bring Laurie over so you can meet her.”
Michelle’s face brightened. “Would you? Oh, Kate.” She grabbed me again in another bear hug. “Oh! That would mean so much. Come over, what? Around noon? I’ll have lunch ready for us.”
We exchanged addresses and phone numbers and I climbed into my car, trying to make a getaway before she squeezed me again. I didn’t make it. She leaned in through the car window and placed her skinny arms around my neck. “See you tomorrow!”
•CHAPTER FIVE•
The Second Week—Bonding
I sped home. I missed Laurie so much, it hurt. I parked my car and transferred George’s bags from the trunk to a shelf in the garage. They seemed too heavy to lug upstairs. Or was I too weak? Either way, I’d ask Jim to bring them up when he got home.
I hobbled up the stairs, clinging to the banister. The ligaments in my pelvis felt sore and tight. This was normal for me when I started up my running routine after having a long break, but a three-block walk was hardly the equivalent of a three-mile run, right? Maybe an outing so soon after having a baby hadn’t been such a good idea.
Once upstairs, I barely looked at Mom. I scooped Laurie from the bassinet. “Did she miss me?”
Mom laughed. “No. She didn’t even wake up.”
Mom made her way toward the kitchen. I limped after her and saw pots boiling on the stove.
“I made us lunch.” She handed me a plate with a ham and provolone cheese sandwich, my favorite. The table was set with a pitcher of homemade iced tea.
“Thanks, Mom. What’s on the stove?”
“Your dinner.”
I smiled. Mom winked and put two tablets of Motrin in my hand, then poured me a glass of tea. Nothing like a mommy. I gazed down at Laurie, in her new bright green booties, and eagerly swallowed the pills.
After Mom left, I nursed Laurie and tried to rest. I thought about bringing George’s bags up from the garage, but that would mean, of course, getting up and going downstairs. I shifted my position on the couch; Laurie snuggled close to me.