Bundle of Trouble(24)
“What’s wrong?”
“I found Michelle dead this morning.”
“Oh my God! Why didn’t you call me!”
“I knew you had that big presentation today and I didn’t want you to worry.”
I recounted the experience for him. When I told him I went into Michelle’s house, his eyes popped out of his skull as if he were on the verge of a heart attack.
“What if the killer was still in there?”
“I didn’t think of that. She was lying on the floor. What if she wasn’t dead?”
“You should have waited for the police or the paramedics or whatever. In your car. With the motor running.” He pulled me closer. “I’m glad you’re all right, honey. Promise me you won’t go around breaking into people’s houses, especially if there could be a murderer hiding out.”
“I didn’t break in. The door was open.”
He clutched me tighter. “And you can always call me, no matter what meeting I’m in.” His voice cracked.
I realized he was crying.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I soothed, running my fingers through his hair.
“We need you, honey. Laurie and I need you.”
“Except I might collapse from exhaustion and/or starvation.”
Jim smiled, his face brightening a bit.
“Want to call El Paraiso, get delivery?” I asked.
Jim squinted at me. “Yeah. Call. I’ll open you some wine.”
“I’m not supposed to drink.”
He rose. “Exceptional circumstances call for exceptional measures. One glass won’t hurt you, or Laurie.”
Jim headed to the kitchen. My mouth began to water as I thought of a nice dinner and wine.
Wine?
Someone had drunk wine with Michelle. Her killer had to be someone she knew, since there was no sign of forced entry. She let someone in, had wine with whoever it was, and then that person had let themself out, leaving the door open for me.
I pictured George going over to Michelle’s and sipping chardonnay with her.
Wait a minute.
George preferred beer, like Jim. He’d probably consider white wine a “girlie” drink.
Could a woman have killed Michelle?
Brad’s affair! The other woman?
Why would Brad’s lover kill Michelle? If Brad wasn’t dead, then her motive would make sense. But with Brad gone, why kill Michelle?
I called after Jim, “Hey, Jim? Does George drink wine?”
Jim returned, a beer in one hand and a glass of merlot in the other. “I guess he does.”
“White wine?”
“Probably. I mean, I’m sure it’s not his favorite, but I imagine he’d drink it.”
There went that theory.
I dialed El Paraiso. “I’d like to order some food for delivery.”
The hostess promptly informed me that they didn’t deliver.
I looked up at Jim’s expectant face. “They don’t deliver.”
“I thought George was supposed to be the delivery guy?” He sighed. “What, did he quit already? Get fired?”
“She said they’ve never delivered.”
Jim’s face clouded, his mouth twisting with concern. “Why would Michelle tell you he worked there if he didn’t?”
•CHAPTER NINE•
The Third Week—Digging In
I awoke in a state of panic, drenched in sweat. I’d read that the body rids itself of extra fluids from pregnancy by sweating. What I didn’t know was if the sweating was from a postpartum symptom or from the frantic dream I’d just had about Michelle.
In the dream I’d been able to revive her. I’d asked her over and over again who had killed her. She’d clung to me, mute.
I glanced at the clock. Five A.M. Laurie and I had both finally drifted to sleep around midnight. Had she really slept five hours?
Was she alive? Panicked, I leaned over the bassinet and frantically put my hand on her tummy.
Her stomach rose slowly and evenly.
I studied her for a moment, her arms raised above her head, a gesture of pure abandonment.
Wait. Five A.M.? She was still asleep? I couldn’t believe it.
At the hospital they had instructed me to wake her for her night feeding if she slept through it.
Give me a break. Hadn’t they ever heard the adage “Never wake a sleeping baby”? No way was I going to do it. Forget it. If she slept through her feeding, she must not be hungry.
I lay back on my pillow. The sheets crunched as if made of potato chips. I held my breath. Laurie was still out.
I shook Jim. “Laurie’s been asleep for five hours!”
“Great,” he mumbled.
“Honey, she’s been asleep for five hours,” I repeated.
“You go to sleep, too.”
I suppose new moms need to learn how to sleep through the night also.