I reread Galigani’s notes. George had threatened Uncle Roger. With a chainsaw no less! That’s why Roger had finally kicked him out. It was also probably the reason he hadn’t come to Jim and me. If George had become violent with Roger, then certainly killing Brad would be in the realm of possibility.
What about Michelle? Suicide? Not likely. She confided to me she had been scared, worried that whoever killed Brad might come after her. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? Unless she killed Brad and said it to cover her guilt. Then ended up killing herself because the guilt was too great? Could she have accidentally overdosed? Maybe KelliAnn could shed light on this.
I reflected on KelliAnn’s address. She lived in the building on Haight Street I’d first followed Galigani to. I thought he’d gone to see Jennifer in Apartment 303, but I was wrong. He had been going there to see KelliAnn. Was it a coincidence that hippie chick Jennifer had worked at El Paraiso?
Laurie stirred next to me, stretching her arms over her head like a kitten. I nuzzled her and she settled back to sleep.
My thoughts returned to Michelle. If she had been poisoned, could Galigani have been poisoned, too? Had someone tried to kill him right in front of my house?
Who was Kiku?
The interview was in a couple days. Could I go in Galigani’s place?
•CHAPTER THIRTEEN•
The Fourth Week—Exploring
When I awoke the next morning, the space next to me was cold and empty. I could hear water running in the shower. I peered over at Laurie in her bassinet. She was asleep for the moment.
I slipped out of bed and grabbed the phone. I dialed San Francisco General Hospital and inquired about Galigani. They told me that after he’d been stabilized, they’d transferred him to California Pacific Hospital.
They wouldn’t tell me anything more about his condition, since I wasn’t family.
I had to take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment today. The pediatrician’s office was right next to California Pacific.
Perfect.
I’d stop by and see how Galigani was progressing.
I pulled my notebook out and wrote my to-do list for the day.
To-Do List:
1. Take Laurie to her one-month wellness appointment.
2. Visit Galigani in the hospital, find out what happened to him.
3. Find George.
4. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).
5. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.
6. Read the parenting book from library.
7. Find the parenting book from the library.
8. Oh yeah, diet, exercise, clean car, be good mom/ wife, cook, clean, and all that jazz.
I sat and sat in the waiting room. I really liked Laurie’s pediatrician, Dr. Clement, but I’d never waited so long for any doctor. Every visit to this office, I had waited at least forty-five minutes. Laurie had already been to the doctor three times in the first month. Twice the first week and once the second week.
At our first appointment, when Laurie was two days old, I had cried because she was losing weight. Dr. Clement told me that it was perfectly normal, but maternal hormones don’t listen to any doctor’s logic and tears had been shed.
Was Dr. Clement worth the wait?
I watched two children with running noses coo over Laurie.
How does one extract one’s baby from runny-nosed little children without seeming rude? I guess you can’t help it if you seem rude. After all, this is your newborn.
I pulled Laurie’s car seat bucket out of reach of the children. One scowled at me and screamed “Mama!” at the top of her lungs. Her mother glanced up from the fashion magazine in her lap, mumbled something, then continued to read.
Both children found solace in the fish tank in the corner.
As I looked at my watch for the millionth time, Laurie’s name was called.
I followed the nurse down a short hallway and into a freezing examination room. “Go ahead and undress her. Everything except the diaper,” she instructed.
“It’s an icebox in here.”
“It’ll only be for a second,” she snapped.
Maybe I should consider another doctor?
Dr. Clement flew into the room. She was short and stocky with huge hands. I’d liked her from the beginning, thinking she’d never drop a baby with such secure-looking hands.
She stretched Laurie out on the examination table and put little pencil marks at her head and feet, then scooped her into what looked like a fish scale. After balancing all the doo-dads on the scale, she wrapped a tape measure around Laurie’s head. She announced that Laurie was in the twenty-fifth percentile. Meaning that Laurie was “petite but perfectly healthy.”
Apparently, out of 100 babies Laurie’s age, 75 babies were bigger than she was. The doctor explained that Laurie was in proportion and gaining weight nicely, so not to worry. Easier said than done.