Motherhood is Murder(64)

I pulled up to Galigani’s and rang the bell.

Galigani answered the door. “Hey, kid. Glad you stopped by. I got some more info for ya.”

Mom appeared in the doorway behind him and peeked at me over his shoulder.

“Kate, you’re completely white. What kind of trouble did you find now?” Mom asked.

They ushered me into the house. We ended up in Galigani’s kitchen, where he was making Mom some homemade osso bucco for dinner.

As the smell of garlic and onions frying in olive oil permeated the kitchen, I absently wondering if Mom’s other beau, Hank, could cook.

I recounted for them my search of Bruce’s place and my suspicions about his not wanting to go through with the adoption.

“I freaked myself out so bad being there and I didn’t want to put Paula in any danger. So we ran out as fast as we could,” I finished.

“Well,” Galigani said. “It’s never a bad idea to flee the scene if you’re getting any kind of signal about danger.”

Mom nodded and rubbed my back. “Do you want something warm to drink? Tea?”

“Tea?” Galigani chuckled. “How about a brandy?”

I declined. “What information do you have for me?”

Galigani stirred the onions, a delicious sizzling and popping sound filling the room. “I heard from Jones, the tox report is in. Helene was killed with a lethal dose of fentanyl. Celia was exposed to fentanyl but did not absorb a lethal dose and your results—”

I cleared my throat as loudly as I could and launched myself up from the table. Galigani, who was standing by the stovetop, immediately stopped talking and stared at me.

I hadn’t told Mom about Laurie’s and my hospital stay.

Mom squinted at us. “What about Kate’s results?”

“Kate’s results . . . in that report . . .” Galigani turned his back to Mom, stirred the onions, and winked at me. “The one you were preparing for Gary . . . I’d say . . . Oh, Vera!” He pulled the pan away from the flame. “I need some wine to add to this . . . would you mind? In the dining room above the china cabinet, there’s a nice selection of red. Why don’t you pick one?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending, the both of you!” She harrumphed, stomping into the dining room. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

As soon as the swinging door closed behind Mom, Galigani whispered, “Negative. Nothing in your system and Laurie was clear, too.”

Although I had suspected this, I found myself clapping my hand to my chest in relief and collapsing back into the chair with a sigh.

Galigani nodded and placed the pan back over the flame. “Curious, though, that Celia’s dosage wasn’t lethal, isn’t it?”

“What do you think it means?” I asked.

“Either a botched attempt or a warning? Not sure.”





I arrived home in a panic. I’d been gone five hours and it felt like a lifetime. I ran upstairs and found Jim on the computer and the house eerily silent.

“Where’s Laurie?” I asked.

“Hi, honey,” Jim said, absently kissing me.

“Where’s my little rose petal?” I demanded, trying to keep hysteria out of my voice.

“Oh, in her bouncy chair.”

“Still? She was there when I called you hours ago.” I ran to the living room, where we had been housing the bouncy chair. It was set to vibrate and Laurie looked like she was in a deep peaceful sleep.

“How long has she been sleeping?” I asked.

Jim shrugged. “Dunno. Since you left?”

“What! I’ve been gone five hours. Haven’t you fed her?”

Jim looked dumbstruck. “That long? Hmmm.” He glanced around the room looking for an answer.

“Well? Did you feed her?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Jim, she won’t sleep at all tonight.” I rushed to Laurie’s bouncy chair and pulled her out of it. She startled for a moment, then resumed sleeping.

Jim stared at me. “Really? Are you sure you’re supposed to wake her? If she was hungry, wouldn’t she wake up on her own?”

I shrugged. Nothing seemed to work. If I let her sleep through the day, she would be awake all night.

But then wouldn’t she be awake all night anyway?

I tried to nurse her but she stayed snoozing. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pulled out the dreaded breast pump and finally felt some relief. Six ounces later I was exhausted.

As soon as I cleaned the pump, capped the bottles, and placed them in the fridge, Laurie woke up screaming and howling.

Great. Just great!

Now I was empty and would have to use the milk I had just pumped. There was no winning.

Before going to bed, I researched fentanyl online. It came in transdermal patches and candy form and was primarily prescribed to terminally ill cancer patients.

Hadn’t Bruce told me his grandmother had passed away a few weeks ago from cancer?





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT





Reward





To Do:



1. It’s hopeless—if the police can’t do it, what makes me think I can?

2. Where is Margaret?—Who cares? If she doesn’t want to call me back, then forget it. Maybe she’s in Mexico getting away with murder.