Nursing a Grudge is Murder (A Maternal Instincts Mystery) (9 page)

BOOK: Nursing a Grudge is Murder (A Maternal Instincts Mystery)
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What was I lacking?

Uh…probably experience.

Although it was true that I’d recently solved a few cases, before my venture into investigating I’d been an office manager. Not much experience solving crimes there. I’d left my day job to have Laurie and then started my venture as a P.I. almost by accident.

V.D. walked out the front door again. As with many things in life, if you don't make a decision quick, the decision will be made for you.

V.D. held his helmet in one hand and adjusted the collar of his leather jacket with the other. “Mr. Miles is calling a tow truck, so I'm free to go with you."

I unlocked my car with the key fob and motioned to Vicente to get in. I asked him for his address. He lived South of Market.

“So, have you been a P.I. for long?” I asked.

He looked at me, surprised, “Me? Yes, of course.” And then, as if it hadn't occurred to him before, he said, “And you?”

Damn.

Why did I have to go putting my foot in it? Sure, he’d been doing investigations a long time. Why else would Barramendi have hired him? He was experienced, and he was probably good.

Instead of answering his question, I used one of my all-time favorite distraction tactics: I evaded his questions by asking one of my own, one I knew was sure to get his interest. “You been riding bikes a long time?”

He nodded, then in a sudden burst of emotion he said, “Can you believe she ran my bike down! It's a 1946 original Harley-Davidson Knucklehead!”

I refrained from snickering at the word knucklehead.

But just barely.

“It was pretty shocking, really, the way she blamed you,” I said.

He grimaced and sighed. “I can't believe it.”

From between our seats, my cell phone buzzed. I glanced at the caller ID; it was Paula.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “My friend’s about to have her baby. This may be the call.”

Vicente took the opportunity to pull out his own cell phone and scroll.

Paula's voice filled the line: “This ain’t no false alarm, sister. I am in labor now!”

“Yeah? Do you need me to pick up Danny?”

“He's here with his backpack on.”

“Okay. I’m pretty close, actually. I’m in the Sea Cliff, but I have to drop someone off South of Market and—”

“What? You have to go South of Market?” Paula asked. “There’s no way you’ll get here in time.”

“It won't take me—”

“I knew I should have asked someone more dependable to watch Danny,” Paula said.

“What? More dependable? I’m dependable.”

“No offense, Kate…uh! Contraction. I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just…uh…”

“Forget about it, I know. I'm on my way,” I said, hanging up. “Look, my friend’s in labor. I have to pick up her little boy, so I can’t take you home.”

“No problem,” Vicente said. “I can go with you.”

I pulled the car over to the curb. “Get out.”

“I’m good with kids.” He smiled and fixed me with a piercing stare. “Drive.”

Chapter Nine

I turned the car around and drove toward Paula’s house.

Who did this man think he was, telling me what to do?

V.D. dropped his cell phone into a cup holder then leaned over and started to fiddle with the knobs on the radio, turning it on and searching out a station.

“What are you doing?” I asked, making no attempt to mask the anger in my voice.

He looked over at me, surprised. “Real Madrid is playing today.”

I flipped the radio off.

“Come on,” V.D. said. “I’ve got money on the game.”

“You can listen to it on your own time.”

He looked confused. “This
is
my time.”

“No. It’s my time. My car, my time.”

“Just because it’s your car doesn’t make it your time. And, by the way, if you hadn’t been at Mr. Miles house, then my Harley never would have been hit.”

I glared at him. “No. If
you
hadn’t been there then your Harley wouldn’t have been hit.”

“I had to be there. I was hired by Barramendi.”

Which begged the question: why had Miles hired Barramendi, a high-powered criminal defense attorney?

“So catch me up then. What do you know about Brent Miles?” I asked.

“Ah. You want information from me,” he said, looking at me through his long dark eyelashes—a look I was certain had been cultivated in tapas bars all over Spain.

“Why else would I drive a man I barely know, who frankly I find extremely annoying, across the city and back?”

He flipped on the radio. “To learn about soccer, of course.”

I turned the radio off. “Why did Miles hire Barramendi?”

“Do you really find me annoying?”

“Extremely. I said extremely. And yes. I do.”

V.D. held out both hands in an almost pleading gesture. “Why?”

“Answer my question first.”

He laughed. “Okay, what was it?”

“Why did Miles hire Barramendi?”

“Barramendi has been Miles’ attorney for years.”

“I thought Barramendi specialized in criminal defense.”

“He does, but the firm handles everything. Miles has been a client with the firm forever, and when this came up,” V.D. waved a hand around as if to dismiss any concern. “It was natural for Barramendi to be assigned.”

“When what came up?”

V.D. squinted at me and remained silent.

“What? Come on, spit it out.”

I was coming up to a red light and was tempted to hit my brakes a bit harder than necessary.

V.D. rummaged through his bag. “I want to give you something.”

He handed me a postcard.

I stopped at the light and glanced at the card. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Audition notice for my play.”

“Your play?” I asked. “Are you in it?”

He certainly had the looks to be an actor. And as far as I could tell, he had the cocky disposition to go along with it.

I cringed. I had a college degree in theater and had dealt with many temperamental actors back then, and the last thing I wanted to do now was revisit working with divas.

“No.” He laughed. “I wrote it.”

I glanced over at him. “You wrote a play?”

He nodded proudly. “Yes, I’m a playwright.”

“Now I've heard everything,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were a private investigator,” I said.

“Well, I am. But I write plays on the side. Just like, you know, you do all your other things on the side.”

I did other things on the side? What did I do on the side besides have a family? Was there some rumor going around that I was distracted? Could that be why Barramendi hadn’t given
me
the case?

“What other things?” I prodded Vicente.

“You know.” He motioned to Laurie’s car seat. “You’re a mom and everything.”

I held back my frustration and asked, “What’s the play about?”

He smiled. “Murder, of course.”

Turning onto Paula’s street, I shoved the postcard deep into the bottomless pit of my diaper bag/purse hoping never to see it again.

I pulled into Paula's driveway. Her husband, David, was standing in front of their house, a dinosaur-decorated backpack in one hand and the other hand resting on his two-year-old son, Danny’s, shoulder. Danny started jumping up and down as soon as he saw me.

David opened the back door and helped Danny into the car seat, glancing curiously at V.D. “Oh, Kate, I didn’t know you had company.”

“This is Vicente. He’s a private investigator for Barramendi.”

A confused expression crossed David’s face. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Vicente.

I could see Paula waving from their car pointing—no, rather, gesticulating— madly towards Vicente. “Who is that?” she mouthed.

I shrugged at her. It’d have to be a conversation for later.

<><><>

At home, Jim was rocking Laurie in his arms as he paced the room listening to some talk radio.

“I’m adding one to the litter,” I said, as I deposited Danny onto our couch. He had fallen asleep in the car after getting into an out-and-out battle with Vicente over which zoo animal was most like a human.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier to see anyone get out of my car than I was when I dropped Vicente off at his place in South of Market.

Jim switched off the radio. “Is Paula really going to have the baby this time?”

“I sure hope so,” I said.

We shuffled the children around as we converted the sofa into a bed and tucked Danny in. While we worked, I filled Jim in on the day’s events. He agreed that there seemed to be some missing information.

What had prompted Miles to call his attorney?

I put Laurie in her crib and retired to the bedroom with Jim. I wanted to mull over again what I’d learned in the course of the day and try to figure out what I had missed, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, all thoughts seeped out of my brain and I was instantly asleep.

<><><>

To Do:

1. √
Order dust kit
!

2. Figure out what happened to Perry.

3. Research the competition (Vicente Domingo)

4. Go grocery shopping!

My door bell rang early in the morning and I felt like my eyes were glued together. Thankfully Jim was already up, because I heard our door unlock and then David’s voice.

There was a general tone of congratulations and some clapping each other on the back, then I heard Jim take off toward the kitchen, presumably to make coffee.

I rolled over and bumped into a child. I pried my eyes open and peeked out. Sometime during the night Danny had snuck into my bed. I rubbed him on the check to wake him. “Daddy’s here, buddy.”

Danny continued to snooze. I kicked off the heap of blankets and rose. It took me a moment to stretch out all the kinks from sleeping on only a quarter of the bed. How did one toddler take up so much room?

I slipped on my robe and headed down the hallway. “Do we have good news?” I called out.

“A beautiful baby girl. Chloe,” David said.

I whooped as I entered the living room and patted David on the back. “Congrats! How’s Paula doing?”

“Good. Only she’s driving me crazy. She wants me to force them to let her leave the hospital right now.”

“She’s nuts,” I said, chuckling. She should take advantage of the 24/7 care.”

“I know,” David said. “The last time she checked herself out early, we had to go back the next afternoon because she had postpartum preeclampsia.”

“I remember,” I said, recalling how Paula’s feet had swollen like balloons.

David nodded. “Not to mention, the sooner she comes home, the sooner Chloe comes home and…” he shrugged. “The nanny doesn’t start until next week,” he admitted.

I laughed. “Yeah, you certainly don’t want to be stuck on nanny duty.”

David shook his head vigorously as Jim entered with three cups of coffee on a tray.

“Kate, you’ve trained him well,” David said.

“I know, and with the way Paula spoils you, I’m sure you probably don’t even
know
how to make coffee.”

David, for his part looked dutifully shamed. He said, “I know how to
make
it, it’s the cleaning the coffee pot part I don’t like. So
messy
, all those wet coffee grounds.”

We laughed as the doorbell sounded, so I didn’t have a chance to explain to David that if he’d use a coffee filter, the grounds should stay
out
of the coffee pot.

Jim walked over to the door and looked out through the peephole. He didn’t say anything but immediately swung the door open. Melanie stood on my door step, her face still viciously bruised and swollen, looking even worse than when I’d first met her two days ago.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you. Is Kate…does Kate live—?”

I stepped into her line of vision. “Melanie, come in.”

“Oh, Kate! I’m so glad I got the right address,” she said, crossing into my living room.

She clutched a tie-dye messenger bag that was slung around her waist as though it might protect her from another attack.

I quickly introduced her to David and Jim and led her to my kitchen nook to sit, giving the men a chance to put away the sofa bed while allowing us a bit of privacy.

Pouring her a cup of coffee, I sat down next to her.

“How can I help?”

“Please don’t tell Jill I’ve come to see you.”

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked.

Melanie tinkered with the spoon on the table, then added some sugar to her coffee. “I have Perry’s phone. They gave it to me at the hospital.” She wiped gingerly at her bruised eye. “Damn, it hurts to cry.”

I rose and grabbed a box of tissues from my counter and passed it to her.

She took a tissue. “Thank you. They gave me his stuff, you know, after they told me he was dead.”

I nodded solemnly.

Wrestling her bag from around her waist, she dug out a phone, swiped at it and entered a password. “I think he was meeting someone at Land’s End, Kate. I don’t want Jill to know. It could be nothing, but if I know…” She sighed. “If I knew my brother at all, I’d bet he was meeting a girl there.”

She handed me the phone and I reviewed the sent messages log. Perry had had a text conversation with someone. It was a local number with no name attached. He’d made plans to meet someone for a hike at Land’s End at 8:00 a.m. on the day he’d died.

A chill ran up my spine. Could Perry have actually set a date with his murderer? Or was there a witness to what had happened? Or perhaps this was a random connection, a girl who maybe never even showed up and was therefore irrelevant? That didn’t seem likely.

“Do you know whose number that is?” I asked.

“No. I called it, but got a generic out of service message.”

“I can look it up. I have access to a reverse directory,” I said.

Melanie eyes brightened. “Oh, would you, Kate? That would mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, come on.”

She followed me into my office/nursery. Laurie was awake in her crib and staring at her mobile, the bears were dancing about and Laurie was swatting at them with her feet. Laurie cooed when she saw me and Melanie gasped.

“Oh, she’s adorable! I didn’t know you had a baby.”

Before I could pick Laurie up, Jim called from the living room. “Honey, can you come here a minute?”

BOOK: Nursing a Grudge is Murder (A Maternal Instincts Mystery)
8.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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