Diana Orgain - Motherhood Is Murder

Margaret descended the main staircase and closed the distance on our table. I cut myself off despite Jim’s snickers into his beer. She raised her hand in acknowledgment and sat down grim-faced.

“Where’s Alan?” I asked.

“With Helene,” she answered.

I shot Jim a smug look, which he ignored.

“How is she?” Jim asked.

Margaret’s eyes clouded over and she shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

We sat in awkward silence. I perused the other three tables in the dining room. The parties at each table were as somber as we were. The four-hour dinner cruise on the San Francisco Bay had now been delayed indefinitely and nobody looked pleased about it.

Margaret fiddled with a cocktail glass that lingered beside her half-eaten dessert. She lifted the glass and examined the contents. Only two melting ice cubes remained. She stirred them with her straw, hoping, I suppose, to release any vodka that might be clinging to them. After a moment of disappointing results, she returned the glass to the table. Her eyes flicked toward the bar.

“Can I get you anything?” Jim asked.

Margaret flushed. “No. God, no. Thank you.” She picked up her discarded navy cloth napkin and wrung it.

From the main staircase Sara and her husband approached. Behind them Evelyn and her husband were struggling to keep up. Evelyn had one hand on her pregnant belly and the other on her husband’s shoulder. They took their places at our table in silence. The men smelled of cigar smoke and looked relaxed. In contrast, both women had pinched expressions.

Now, there were only three vacant spots at our table. Helene’s, her husband’s, and Alan’s. My eyes fell on Helene’s empty spot. Sara gave me a tight smile, then put her hand on Margaret’s to stop her fidgeting.

“Everything will be fine, you’ll see,” Sara said to Margaret.

Margaret lowered her eyes and nodded.

Suddenly we felt a bump and the ship jostled back and forth. Everyone in the dining room turned toward the sound. Through the starboard window we could see the U.S. Coast Guard vessel had arrived. Crew members were roping the smaller craft to our ship.

The Coast Guard quickly boarded our ship and disappeared out of sight with the crew members.

Margaret cleared her throat and eyed Evelyn. “Does anyone know what happened? I mean, did she just slip or what?”

I had noticed that the woman hadn’t been very chatty with Evelyn throughout the dinner and now wondered what the look Margaret had flashed her might mean.

Evelyn shrugged and returned Margaret’s look evenly. “How would I know? Ask Sara.”

Sara pressed her shoulders back and sat a little taller.

“She was really out of it,” Evelyn continued, rubbing her extended belly. “How much did she have to drink anyway?”

“I didn’t think she had that much, did she?” Margaret asked.

Helene’s empty place seemed to dominate the table. Her dessert plate still held the untouched apple turnover. The ice cream had melted and run over the edge of the plate onto the navy and white place mat. Next to the plate, two drained cocktail glasses loomed, and in the tall wineglass only the stain of red wine remained.

A strange hush settled on our table.

Howard, Sara’s husband, slouched into his chair and casually slung his arm around the back of Sara’s. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”

Everyone at the table looked at Howard, and then followed his eyes to the starboard window. The night and bay were dark except for a troubling light that was converging upon us.

“Oh good!” Margaret exclaimed. “That must be the hospital boat for Helene.”

The craft nudged itself alongside us. Silence descended on the entire dining room as letters on the boat came into view: SFPD.

I waved my cell phone around, counting bars as I moved from window to window. I had five bars showing until I hit the first number on the keypad, then three bars disappeared.

Most of the passengers were now lingering in the lounge area. The captain had announced that we would be further delayed and complimentary hot beverages would be served.

Jim was in line getting me a hot coffee, while I frantically tried to reach my mother, who was babysitting for us.

I moved away from the windows, still focused on the phone, and slammed directly into Nick Dowling, the San Francisco Medical Examiner.

“Mrs. Connolly! What a coincidence.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. If Nick was here, it couldn’t be good news for Helene.

“Mr. Dowling. Don’t tell me Helene is . . .”

Nick brushed his bangs off his forehead. “Well, I’m not supposed to tell you anything. You know that, Kate.”

After giving birth to Laurie just a few short weeks ago, I’d been dragged into a murder investigation. Well, maybe “dragged” wasn’t the right word. I had launched a fledgling private investigation business. Maybe “launched” wasn’t the right word either. I had solved a missing person’s case, and two murders.

Yes, I had solved it.

I’d also met the medical examiner.

The ME is called to a scene only when a death has occurred.

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I felt Nick’s hand on my elbow.

“I’m sorry, Kate. Were you close?”

I shook my head. “No, I only met her briefly. She and another mom invited me to join their mommy group. Tonight I met the whole gang.”

He sighed. Something buzzed from inside his jacket pocket. “Sorry, I have to get that.” He fished out his cell phone and hurried toward the exit.

Nick had reception, why didn’t I?

I tried to focus on my phone but there was a tightening in my chest, my eyes teared.

Poor Helene. Dead? What could have happened?

How could a fall down some steps have killed her? Had she broken her neck? Head trauma or what?

One minute she was alive and well, eating dinner with us, then suddenly she was gone.

How many children did she have? They needed their mommy.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

What was behind all the looks exchanged at my table? There seemed to be some animosity between the women.

Could Helene have been murdered?

Maybe someone pushed her down the stairs.

No, that didn’t make any sense.

Certainly if anyone was trying to kill her, they wouldn’t have done it on a crowded dinner cruise, much less by pushing her down a stairwell. That would have been stupid.

Push her overboard, maybe, but not down some steps.

It had to have been an accident. Or perhaps she’d died of natural causes. But she looked so healthy!

Maybe an aneurysm—those could strike suddenly and take someone’s life even if they were young and seemingly healthy.

The medical examiner would figure it out.

Could I help in any way? Maybe there’d be a need for a PI?

Right. What was I thinking? I had no license. No way to land a case on my own. The only way I could fathom landing a case would be to enroll help from Senior PI Albert Galigani.

Galigani had been instrumental on my first case. Maybe he would let me use his license, or work for him. I’d do whatever it took to make myself legit.

I pushed the thought aside. Legitimacy didn’t matter. Helping Helene did. Although I hardly knew her, my heart grieved.

I recalled meeting her last week. I was at Angles de la Terre, the ultrachic baby store in downtown San Francisco. It was pricey, but they carried high-end products and had a great selection of items such as cradle cap cream, which I hadn’t been able to find at Target. Never mind the fact that there is no Target or Walmart in San Francisco. So after being forced to shop in a neighboring town and striking out, I made the trip downtown.