“Like a smoking gun.”
Jim raised his eyebrows and nodded. I filled him in on George’s story about the missing gun. Jim’s face was grim as he listened.
Tony appeared with an antipasto, compliments of the chef, his father, who peered at us from behind the pizza oven and yelled, “Beautiful baby, it’s about time!”
Tony asked, “What will it be tonight, the usual or something else?”
Jim glanced over at me. I nodded. “The usual.”
Jim dipped his bread into olive oil. I continued my George story and ended with the impending birth.
“Is he going to marry Kiku?” Jim asked.
“He says he doesn’t know yet. And when I went over there to give her this bracelet, she said it wasn’t hers.” I pulled the silvery metal out of my pocket and showed Jim.
He took the bracelet from me and read it. “Where’d you get this?”
“It fell out of one of George’s bags. Do you think he’s seeing someone else?”
Jim shrugged his shoulder. “God, honey, with George, who knows?”
He scooped salami into his mouth, looking miserable. He motioned to Tony and ordered a beer. I poured olive oil on my bread plate and dipped the bread in silence. Laurie cooed and ah-gooed from her bucket seat, determined to get our attention.
After a few pulls on his beer, Jim said, “You know I care about George, Kate. But all my life he’s always been more trouble than he’s worth. It breaks my heart. You gotta know that. Here’s the person who’s the most genetically similar to me on the planet and . . . if he’s like that . . . I can’t be too far—”
“Stop. You know you’re nothing like him. Genetically, okay, I get that. But come on, you guys are totally different.”
“It didn’t feel that way today, sitting in jail and then having to do a lineup. It was the low point of my life.”
I scooted out of my side of the booth and slid in next to Jim. He put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder. “How do we get out of this, honey?”
“Mrs. Avery hired me to find out who killed Brad. I can solve this, Jim.”
He smiled. “Leave it to my lovely wife. She’ll get us out of the hole by digging deeper.”
“I can solve this.”
“I’m sure you can, what with all the experience you have.” He grinned in spite of himself. “You know, I’ve got to admit it, honey, if you really want something, you keep on insisting until you get it.”
“I really don’t want to go back to the office.” I rubbed his back. “How can filing drawings, managing schedules, and making coffee compare to being with you and Laurie? Plus I really want to keep you out of jail.”
Jim smirked. “Tell me your best theory.”
Just then a piping hot pizza, topped with Gorgonzola, pancetta, and caramelized onions arrived at our table. “I’ll whisper it in your ear.”
He served me a piece of pizza, placing his hand on my thigh. “This gets better and better.” He leaned in close to kiss me. “And by the way, I love your new haircut.”
•CHAPTER EIGHTEEN•
The Sixth Week—Separation Anxiety
At 7 A.M. Laurie and Jim were both still sacked out from the day before.
I got out of bed. I had only a week and a half left of maternity leave. Ten days. Two hundred and forty hours.
I needed to build up a reserve of milk. I pulled out the cartoon instructions from Paula and did my best to produce a bountiful supply. I yielded three ounces. Ridiculous! How did other women do it?
I grabbed my to-do list:
To-Do List:
1. Find Brad and/or Michelle and/or Svetlana’s killer.
2. Speak to Michelle’s sister, KelliAnn.
3. ✓
4. Mail thank-you cards.
5. Get some sleep.
6. Print business cards.
7. Go grocery shopping.
8. Figure out how to solve this crime and find a way in the world with my own little PI business.
I needed to meet KelliAnn, Michelle’s half-sister, give her my condolences, and see if she had an insight into these awful murders.
Since it was Saturday, Jim could babysit. I left him with the precious three ounces of milk and instructions to use formula if Laurie was still hungry. I studied Laurie before I left: her eyebrows were darkening but the hair on her head remained a delicate strawberry blond. I fought the desire to sit and study her all day. How could I miss her already if I hadn’t even left?
When I arrived at KelliAnn’s place, I rang the bell and was buzzed up.
KelliAnn stood in front of her door. She had beautiful red hair, the kind that is so red it looks almost orange.
Real red hair, not out of a bottle.
She was tall and thin, clad in a clinging purple sweat suit with a silver chain around her neck. From the chain hung an old-fashioned heart-shaped locket.