Motherhood is Murder(38)

“Did you suspect anything?” I asked.

Celia pushed the buttons on the bed, first lowering herself and then overcorrecting to a sitting position. She kicked off the covers in frustration.

“I hate this stupid bed!” She rose, shuffled to the door, and looked into the hallway. She turned back to me, and her shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I don’t know when they’re supposed to release me and I’m getting anxious to go.”

I stood. “I’ll go. Dr. Wong is supposed to be checking on me soon anyway.”

“No. No, don’t go. You asked if I suspected anything.” She crossed back to the bed and jumped on top of it, opting not to get under the covers. Her delicate legs and feet dangled over the side.

I waited for her to continue.

“I didn’t outright suspect him or really even think about it until he tried to kill me. I don’t know why he would kill Helene and then try to kill me. Maybe he thought I knew something or saw something. At least that’s what the homicide cop suggested.” She looked expectantly at me. “Do you know why? Were they having marital problems?”

I shrugged. “Well, you certainly knew them better than me. All I know is Margaret told me Helene wanted kids but Bruce didn’t. But weren’t you helping them to adopt?”

Celia’s mouth clamped shut and she gripped at the covers. “Oh. Who told you about that?”

“Bruce did.”

Her grip relaxed and she released the bed cover. “Helene really wanted kids, I’d heard about this situation in Costa Rica. My second cousin . . . she’s only fifteen . . . Anyway, I was trying to help Helene and my cousin. But now that she’s gone . . .” She pressed her lips together so tightly they turned white. “That’s why I was there talking to Bruce. My cousin is ready to deliver and now she doesn’t know what she’s going to do.”

“Bruce wants to back out?”

She nodded and sat up straighter. “It doesn’t matter anyway. The guy’s a murderer. Now, I wouldn’t let him even look at my little cousin.”

The nurse poked her head in the door. “Oh, there you are, Mrs. Connolly. Dr Wong will be able to see you in a few minutes.”

“What about me?” Celia asked.

“I’ll be back with your dinner.” The nurse left.

Celia made a face. “Sounds like I’m staying for a while. I hate hospitals. That’s why I offer an alternative to women giving birth.”

I rose from the chair. “Celia, I was thinking. How do you suppose he did it?”

Celia looked as though she was considering the question for the first time.

“It wasn’t in the salmon,” I added.

“Probably in my drink or something.”

“Did you taste anything?”

Celia glanced upward as if trying to recall. “Hmm. Now that you mention it. My beer did taste rather . . . metallic. But sometimes beer does, so I didn’t think anything of it.”





I returned to my room to find McNearny sitting on the chair next to the bed.

Uh-oh!

I glanced down at my hospital gown. Not the kind of look a gal wants while having company. I desperately searched the room for a robe.

None.

“Can I help you?” I demanded.

McNearny stared at me. “How are you feeling?”

I shrugged.

He cleared his throat and stood. “Well, glad to see you’re up and about.”

Was he?

I had to be cautious; it would be just like him to try and get me off my guard.

He motioned for me to take a seat on the bed. I sat and pulled the sheet up to my neck, more or less defensively. He sat back down on the chair. We waited each other out in silence.

After a minute he said, “Maybe you can help. What happened today?”

I briefly recounted the details of my lunch at Bruce’s. He shook his head back and forth in complete and utter disapproval as I spoke.

“What were you doing there in the first place?”

“I wanted to find out what Helene and Sara had been fighting about that night on the cruise.”

“And what was it? Is it relevant?”

“Apparently they fought about a construction project and whether or not it was being canceled.”

He scowled. “Who cares about that?”

My hands clenched involuntarily. “Well, I also wanted to know if he’d seen anything that night. Like Helene drinking Margaret’s drink—”

“l told you to limit your actions to the doctor!” McNearny growled.

“Well . . . I . . .”

He stood. “Do not step on this investigation. I’m not interested in idle gossip about who is canceling projects. I’m canceling you. You got that? Believe it or not, SFPD was here before you broke onto the scene. We have the training and experience necessary to handle this. It’s not amateur hour. Amateurs end up in the hospital!”

I remained quiet, duly reprimanded.

He leaned in a bit. “Either that or they end up in jail for interference!”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





Second Wind





To Do:



1. Talk with Galigani—what are the real dangers of this business?

2. Stock up on soup and tea.

3. Dust and clean house—yuck!

4. Ask Jim to do laundry.