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Motherhood is Murder(76)

By:Diana Orgain


Could it be Howard?

Come on, come on. I need a break here!

Celia helped the driver out. It was Evelyn! She was hunched over. Celia held her as she rocked back and forth.

Oh my gosh! Evelyn was in labor. She was going to have her baby!

After a few moments Evelyn stood straight up. Celia helped her to the center and looked down the block.

Had she seen the van?

Oh, well. Not like she’d be running off to see Howard now. May as well head home and knock some items off my to-do list.

Wait, Kenny was on his way here. I grabbed my phone to see if I could reach him. If I could catch him before he left, then I wouldn’t be stuck here waiting for him.

I dug around my bag for my phone. I dialed Kenny but got his voice mail. I started to text him when I heard a car start.

I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Evelyn’s car zooming toward me. Celia was driving.

Wait.

Where was she going in Evelyn’s car? What about Evelyn in labor? Maybe Celia was simply reparking the car.

I studied the spot where the car had been. It looked like a legal spot.

My phone rang in my hand. I glanced at the caller ID. Paula.

“Did you find anything?”

“I did!” She was breathless. “I found the story, and then I called the paper and spoke to the writer. She was able to look up the midwife’s name for me. Get this. Cecelia Martinez.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO





Labor





Cecelia Martinez?

What did this mean? I knew her as Celia Martin—certainly that was an alias . . . or was it all a coincidence?

Wait! When I had been at the hospital, the nurse had called her Martinez. Yes! She’d said that.

“Kate. What do you know about that adoption she was arranging?” Paula asked.

My throat felt thick. It was difficult to breathe. “No. They can’t be related. The story in Miami is more than a couple years old, right? Bruce and Helene were going to adopt a newborn, Celia’s cousin’s baby. I saw Helene’s plane ticket from SFO to Costa Rica. There were notes about traveling with an infant.”

I recalled the moms at La Petite Grenouille this afternoon discussing plane travel. Children over two years old needed their own ticket.

“Wait. What did you say?” Paula asked. “Did you say SFO to Costa Rica?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would she be traveling with an infant from SFO? Wouldn’t she be traveling there solo and then flying back with the baby?”

I needed air. I cracked open the window and felt a breeze hit my face.

“Oh my God! They were going to steal a baby. Celia and Helene were going to steal a baby. I’m sure of it. Only maybe Helene had changed her mind. She canceled the construction plans and was going to leave Bruce. She was going to live with Alan and fight for custody of his children. It’s all making sense now!”

Celia was driving Evelyn’s car away to hide it. Make it look like Evelyn had never arrived.

Evelyn. Her baby! I had to get to her.

I started the engine and drove down the street to the front of the birthing center. One tire popped the curb but I didn’t care, I slammed the transmission into park.

“But you said Celia wasn’t on the cruise!” Paula said.

I swung the van door open and reflexively put the strap of the diaper bag on my shoulder. “She wasn’t.”

“Then she couldn’t have slipped something in Helene’s drink if she wasn’t even there. And then what about poisoning herself? I mean, do you think that was a suicide attempt—”

“No! Her dose wasn’t lethal. Galigani told me that—”

Suddenly a hand reached into the van and gripped my hair. So fierce was the grip that it literally launched me out of my seat. My cell phone fell out of my hand. I gripped my bag to me and screamed, “Paula! Call 9-1-1.”

A kick found its way to my ribs and I doubled over in excruciating pain.

Had she heard me?

Would Paula call 9-1-1 or would she think the call had simply dropped?

My assaulter screamed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing parked in front of my center?”

Celia!

Images of the riots on TV flashed in my mind. All of SFPD would be downtown. Was there anyone available to respond to a 9-1-1 call?

Celia’s knee crashed into my face and she seemed to be pushing me back or was I retreating?

Laurie’s face filled my mind and I swung the diaper bag as hard as I could into Celia’s side. She blocked my blow, grabbing the bag out of my hands and pushing me into the birthing center. I landed on the cool marble floor, out of breath and in pain. She threw the bag at me.

Kenny!

Kenny was on his way!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Celia’s leg move back, gaining momentum for another kick. I rolled out of the way. Her miss only served to infuriate her further; she came at me and drew her leg back for another swipe. This time I was ready. As her leg swung forward, I grabbed it and pulled her off balance.

She struck the floor hard and I scrambled to my feet.

Could I make it out the door and back to the van?