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Motherhood is Murder(71)

By:Diana Orgain


And you!

I watched her nervously swing her foot forward and back, but said nothing.

“Evelyn or Bruce, huh?” she repeated. “It’s got to be Bruce. Evelyn had no reason to kill Helene. I mean, I know she was a little bitter about being kicked out of the group, but that’s no reason . . . she can’t be that petty, right?”

“No. That kind of motive doesn’t make sense,” I said. “And what about Celia? Why would Evelyn try to poison her own midwife?”

Margaret nodded.

“I understand Bruce may have had access to the fentanyl. His grandmother passed away recently from cancer.”

Margaret dipped her head.

“Margaret, did you used to be addicted to pain meds?” I asked.

Her head shot up. “Who told you that?”

“Alan,” I admitted.

She jumped out of the chair. “That no good . . . what else did he tell you?”

I shrugged.

She began to pace again. “So that’s it, huh? You think I killed her because I’m a recovered addict. I’m recovered, Kate. Recovered.”

She stormed out of the room, leaving me sitting in the chair waiting for her. She returned a few minutes later holding a frame that she clutched to her chest.

“I’m sorry for flipping out on you,” she said.

I nodded.

“Five years ago, before the kids, I broke my foot skiing. I got addicted to pain meds then. It didn’t last very long. About six months, but Alan never let me forget. I’ve been reflecting on our marriage these last few days here at my mom’s. I think back to that time and I think he purposely wanted to get me addicted. It gave him control over me and our life.”

She handed me the frame. It was a picture of Margaret, Alan, and a small boy. They were on the beach and Margaret was just starting to show with her second baby.

“This photo was taken less than a year ago. It was our first family vacation. Miami, the same day I met Celia. Look at how ridiculously happy I was. I’ve been crying myself to sleep hugging that photo every single night since Helene passed away. But no matter how hard I cry, I can’t get back to that happy place.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

A car pulled up into the driveway. Presumably, it was Margaret’s mom back with the kids. I hadn’t wanted to leave Margaret alone feeling sad and vulnerable so I was glad to see the car park.

“I should thank you, Kate. A job well done. You got the information I requested. It wasn’t what I hoped for but . . .” She rose. “Let me write you a check. We’ll call the case closed.”

“Don’t you want to know who killed Helene?”

Margaret shrugged, her body listless. “What does it matter now? I guess we’ll let the cops handle that.”





When I got home, all the lights were out. Jim was asleep on the couch with Laurie in his arms. Laurie had her little hands folded on her chest. She looked like a miniature version of a praying monk. I gently picked her up out of Jim’s arms. They sighed in unison.

I clutched Laurie to me and kissed her soft cheeks a dozen times. She remained asleep so I set her down in her bassinet and squeezed onto the coach next to Jim.

Still sleeping, he rolled onto his side to make room for me. I kissed his lips. “I love you.”

“Glad you’re home safe, honey,” he murmured. “Laurie and I were waiting up for you . . .”

I smiled. “I see that.”

I hugged him. I was sad after leaving Margaret. Her marriage was over and I suspected Sara’s was in distress, not to mention that obviously Bruce and Helene’s life together had been less than perfect and now she was dead. I felt so fortunate to have my family intact. Tears filled my eyes and I pressed myself against Jim. “Love you forever,” I whispered.

His soft sleepy breath filled my ear and the last thing I heard before falling asleep was “Love you, too, honey.”





CHAPTER THIRTY





Rooting





To Do:



1. Thanksgiving Prep!!!

2. Order turkey.

3. Get pie recipe from Paula.

4. Stuffing? Check online.

5. Potatoes—same old boring mash?

6. Cranberries—canned or fresh?

I woke up with a stiff neck from sleeping too long on the couch with Jim. I hadn’t remembered moving to the bedroom, but somehow Jim, Laurie, and I were all safely tucked in.

I stretched my neck and contemplated coffee. Laurie started moving her head from side to side. Rooting. I picked her up and played my favorite game. Kissing her cheek so when she automatically turned toward me, I turned my head and her mouth landed on my cheek. I did this over and over, pretending she was showering me with kisses.

Laurie didn’t like the game this morning and let out a howl, telling me she meant serious business.

I squeezed her. “Love my little bunny girl!”

Laurie’s cry escalated into a high-pitched wail.

“Okay, I know you want service.”

I took her into the nursery, and after changing and feeding her, I put her up on my shoulder and rubbed her back, waiting for the inevitable burp. She was asleep again before I could even place her back into the bassinet.