The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom (26 page)

Twenty minutes later I pulled into my driveway. Getting out
of the vehicle, I stopped and stared down the street at Karen and Doug’s empty
home. I felt a bubble of emotion building in my chest. “Sorry, Karen,” I
whispered. “I guess I’m just not very good at this.” Turning away before I
dissolved into tears, I hurried toward the house.

After pausing to collect the mail from the brass box affixed
to my house, I let myself inside. There were a number of missives—a good
distraction from the despondency now setting in. As I walked to the kitchen I
sorted through the pile: bill, bill, low interest credit card offer, bank
statement, pink scented envelop addressed to me…. I flipped it over. There was
no return address. Eagerly, I tore into it. At first, the envelope appeared to
be empty, but as I tipped it on end, a single, pressed red rose fell onto the
counter. Confused, I stared for a moment at the delicate flower lying there
before me. It had a white, satin ribbon tied around the stem, and a tiny card
affixed to it. I opened it. It said only:

Coffee?

J.

Damn him! I grabbed the torn envelope and looked at the top
right corner: there was no stamp! He had been here, again. Javier had
hand-delivered this flower to my home. This was way too much! Why did he want
to see me so badly? Why did he drive all the way out here to drop this note
off? I had to admit, I’d been looking pretty darn good those nights I’d gone to
see him at the coffee shop. And of course, Javier was under the illusion that I
had perky, voluptuous breasts thanks to the water bra, but still… It was like
he was in love with me or something. I mean, I didn’t look
that
hot… did
I? Sheesh! It was enough to give a girl a big head.

But I was not going to go see him. If I ignored him, he
would go away, eventually. Like a pimple… a very attractive pimple. I couldn’t
deny the fact that I still found Javier incredibly alluring, but I was
committed to my marriage. Things were better between Paul and me lately. We had
reconnected, at least a few times, and I was hopeful for more. Besides, I
didn’t know what, if any role Javier had played in Karen’s life… and death. It
would be irresponsible, and just a bit twisted to see him again.

The phone rang, startling me. For some reason, I scooped up
the dried flower and tossed it in the trash before answering. It wasn’t like
the caller could
see
through the phone, but I felt better with it safely
disposed of. If it turned out to be Paul on the line I didn’t want that stupid
rose staring at me and making me feel all guilty and flustered.

“Hello?” I answered, forcing a light and airy tone. It was
Jane.

“I’ve been thinking…” she said. “We should get together for
coffee again soon. I think we should make it a regular occasion, like we used
to.”

“Sounds good. We could do it at my house next.”

“Okay. Do Wednesday mornings still work for you?”

“Uhhh…” I said, checking the calendar for dentist
appointments or volunteer field-trip supervision. “Yep. Wednesdays look good.”

“Great. I’ll call Trudy and Carly. And umm…” she hesitated.
“I thought I’d invite Margot Bauman, as well.”

“Who? My voice was a high-pitched squeak.

“Margot Bauman,” Jane explained. “I’m sure you’ve seen her
around. Tall… darkish wavy hair, quite attractive… Her daughter goes to
pre-school with Ainsley, and she has a son in third grade at Rosedale.”

“I don’t know her.”

“She’s really great. I’ve spent some time with her over the
last few months and I thought she’d be a great addition to our group.”

Why was everyone so eager to replace Karen? First Doug and
now Jane! “Well…” I said. “I don’t know that our group really needs an
addition, does it?”

“It couldn’t hurt,” my friend replied. “It was great getting
together last time, but it was a little…
maudlin
. If we get some fresh
blood, it’ll shift the focus. We can start living in the present again.”

I couldn’t believe she was talking this way. Did she think
we could just plunk this Margot person into Karen’s seat and move on as if
she’d never been here? This coffee klatch was supposed to a tribute to her
memory. A special time dedicated to reminiscence. It was just wrong! Hopefully,
Trudy and Carly would agree with me. “I don’t know, Jane…”

“I’m not trying to
replace
Karen, for God’s sake,”
she said, seemingly irritated by my reluctance. “But we have to go on with our
lives. Do you really think it’s healthy to spend every Wednesday morning
reminiscing about our dead friend?”

“It’s only been a month and a half!” I cried.

“It’ll be two months on Monday.”

“Oh… well then, we should just forget all about her.” My
voice dripped with sarcasm.

“We will never forget her,” Jane said, emphatically. “But it
doesn’t mean we can’t make new friends.”

“How would you feel if Doug was making a new friend,
already?”

“That’s different. Doug and Karen were married. They were
exclusive. It’s not like Karen told us we weren’t allowed to have any other
friends.”

“Yeah. But how
would
you feel if Doug was making a
new friend?”

“What do you mean by
new friend
?”

I told her what I had witnessed through the window last
night as I was out for a casual, evening stroll. She was quiet for a long
moment. “You’re sure it wasn’t just a business meeting?”

“They were drinking wine! She was rubbing his shoulders!”

“It does sound a little…
friendly
.”

“I’ll say. …Do you think…” I hesitated, unsure if I should
ask Jane to ponder this possibility. “Do you think they could have been seeing
each other before…?”

“Before? Before when?”

My voice was hushed. “Before Karen died.”

“Oh my God! What are you trying to say, Paige? That Doug was
cheating on Karen with Jackie Baldwin? That they may have wanted her dead so
that they could be together? Do you think they might have conspired to kill
her?”

Laid out like that it sounded incredibly far-fetched. “Umm…
I’m not saying that, exactly… I just wondered… Well, it’s just so soon for him
to be uh… getting his shoulders rubbed by someone else.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they’re a pair of scheming
murderers. God, you’ve been watching too much
CSI
.”

If one more person told me that….! “Look, I’ve got to get
going,” I said, shortly. “I’ve got some things to do before I pick up the
kids.”

“Okay. So, are we on for Wednesday at your place?”

“Sure,” I said, with all the enthusiasm of scheduling a root
canal.

“And what about Margot?”

I heaved a sigh of resignation. It wasn’t really fair to
exclude this poor Margot person because of my own hang-ups. “Bring her along,”
I said. “It’s fine with me.”

The following afternoon, the phone rang.

“Paige?”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of a male voice saying
my name. That’s all I needed was for Javier to start calling me and pestering
me at home. But this voice had just said:
Paige;
not:
Paaaaaige,
with an incredibly, sexy Spanish accent that made all the hair on my arms stand
on end.

“Speaking,” I replied.

“Troy Portman here.”

“Oh… hello.”

“Could we talk? Preferably in person?”

“Umm… okay. When?”

“The sooner the better.”

“All right. Same place? I can be there in an hour.”

“See you then.”

I arrived at the diner fifty-six minutes later. Detective
Portman was already seated in the same booth, a cup of coffee before him. This
time, as I strode to meet him, I had no qualms about being a
stoolie
. If
I could help the police get to the bottom of this mystery, I would. The
uncertainty was destroying me. I was also just a little tired of Trudy and
Carly getting all the accolades for their charity work and lasagna making.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, half standing as I slid in
across from him.

“Of course. So… is there any news on the case?”

“We got the paternity test results back.”

I leaned forward anxiously. “And?”

“The baby was not Doug Sutherland’s.”

A queasy feeling came over me and I flopped back in my seat.
Oh God. So Karen had been sleeping with Javier. I had been such a fool to
believe his lies—a sad, pathetic, later-in-life fool.

“The problem is…” Portman said, pausing while Vera filled my
coffee cup. “The problem is that we don’t know who the father is.”

“Obviously it must be that Javier character,” I said,
disdainfully. “Karen told me they were sleeping together.”

“We have no way to prove it, though. He refused to give us a
DNA sample.”

“Well, that’s like an admission of guilt, isn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.”

“So… what happens now?”

Portman sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “With no
evidence of a physical relationship between them, we have no reason to pursue
our investigation of him any further. Mr. Rueda said he was working the day
your friend died, and his co-workers confirm it.”

Who? For a moment, I was confused. Then I realized that I
didn’t even know Javier’s last name. Mentally, I had made love to him
approximately 37 times, and yet, I didn’t even know his surname. I really was a
pervert. “Well, his co-workers could be lying to protect him, couldn’t they?”

“It’s possible.”

“What about fingerprints? His prints must have been at the
scene?”

“They weren’t—which doesn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t
there.”

“It has to be Javier’s baby. Who else could it be?”

Portman shrugged. “You never know… Karen Sutherland had a
lot of secrets.”

He was right: Karen had had a lot of secrets. Maybe she had
been sleeping with someone else entirely, and Javier had been a sort of a
decoy? But that was ridiculous! I was just trying to protect my own ego by
pretending that Javier had eyes only for me. He’d probably spent hours parked
outside Karen’s house, sent her numerous pressed flowers and cutesy notes requesting
coffee dates… before, of course, he impregnated her, and then, possibly, pushed
her over.

“What if…”—I hesitated for only a second before plunging
forward— “I could provide you with a DNA sample from Mr. Rueda?”

“Don’t even think about contacting him, Paige. He could be
dangerous.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me. I know it.”

“I’m sure that’s what Karen Sutherland thought, too.”

“If you really think he hurt Karen, then how can you just
let him go?” Desperation had made my voice shrill.

“I’m not convinced he did,” Portman said. “This one’s got me
stumped. But I can’t take the chance of you seeing him again. It’s too risky.

He sounded very protective, almost like my big brother… or
my
boyfriend
. It was sweet. “I won’t see him again, if you don’t want me
to,” I replied, flirting just a tiny bit. “So… just out of curiosity, could you
get DNA from a coffee cup, or a spoon or something?” I was sure I’d seen them
do that on TV.

“Yeah. DNA can be analyzed from any body tissues or fluids:
hair, blood, bone, saliva, semen…”

“Oh jeez!” I said, blushing like a teenager at the mention
of Javier’s semen. I continued, nervously. “Okay… so, hypothetically, if he
drank out of a paper coffee cup, you could get his DNA from the cup?”

“Anything with trace saliva on it will have his DNA on it,
so, basically, anything he puts his mouth on.”

This gave me another idea but I was too embarrassed to ask
if I could hand my lips in for analysis. Besides, Javier was becoming less
attractive by the second. But still, I
needed
to know if he was the
father of Karen’s baby, and what role he had played in her death.

“But there’s a difference between obtaining DNA and
obtaining
legally
admissible
DNA,” Portman was saying. “In order
to use a DNA sample we have to be able to prove that it wasn’t contaminated by
another party, and we also need to prove that the person had no further use for
the object and …”

My mind drifted from his legalistic cop talk. I was sure
that I could safely get some of Javier’s DNA. It was as simple as taking him up
on his coffee invitation—and taking the cup home with me. Then, I’d turn it
into the police for testing. I felt confident that they’d find a way to make it
legally admissible. I’d probably just have to sign an affidavit or something. I
was pretty certain that was how it worked on
Law & Order
.

“So you see, it’s not as simple as just handing over an
object with his trace saliva on it,” Troy finished.

“Right,” I said. “But there’s something else I think you
need to know.” I leaned forward. “It’s about Doug Sutherland.”

He leaned in toward me. “Go on…”

“I think he might be involved with another woman…
already
.”

Portman did not look shocked. “Okay… well, thanks for
passing that along.”

“It’s just so soon, don’t you think? I mean, Karen’s only
been gone for a couple of months. It makes me wonder if maybe… they were seeing
each other…
before
.”

This piqued his interest a little. He pulled out his small
blue notepad. “Who is the woman he’s seeing?”

“Her name is Jackie Baldwin. She’s works for the Boca Group
selling condos. She says Doug’s just interested in getting a smaller place, but
I saw them together, and they looked rather… intimate.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“They were drinking wine, which, obviously, isn’t very
professional. And then she began rubbing his shoulders.”

Portman continued to jot notes. “And where did this take
place?”

“In Karen’s house. Well… I guess it’s Doug’s house, now. I
saw it all through the window, as I was walking by.”