Diana Orgain - Bundle of Trouble

Did that include George?

I brought the mug to my lips.

Hold on a second. Brad and Michelle were both dead. This lady could be a murderer. Certainly it couldn’t be a good idea to ingest something she had prepared for me. I scribbled a note in my notebook: Next time interviewing suspect bring own water .

“I was at El Paraiso the other day. Looking for George,” I said, placing the mug on the floor beside me.

“He owe you money or something?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just. . well, my husband and I haven’t seen him in a long time. Do you know where I can find him?” I asked.

“I only see him now and then. Not regular anymore, since I stopped working at El Paraiso.”

“When did you stop working there?”

A strand of blond hair had worked its way free from her braid. She tucked it behind an ear. “End of May.”

“Do you know what George does there?”

She looked at me for a second, slowly placing her teacup down. “Are you with the police?”

This was the second time someone had asked me about being in law enforcement. What could George be doing?

I plucked stray cat fur off my pants. “I heard George did delivery but I called to order something the other night and was told they don’t deliver.”

Jennifer smirked.

“Do you know if he still works there?” I asked.

She nodded. “I heard he’s still there.”

“From who?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m pretty good friends with the manager, Rich.”

Him again?

“Did you know the owner, Brad Avery?”

Her eyes clouded over. “Sure. Course.”

“You know he was killed?”

“Yeah, Rich told me. Awful, huh. Somebody shot him!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “What kind of world are we living in?” She tsked.

“I know.” I tsked along with her.

“Rich told me Brad was killed in June. His body must have been weighed down somehow all this time in the bay.” Jennifer shuddered. “It’s terrible.”

“It’s a shame,” I agreed.

I leaned in close, trying a girlfriend to girlfriend, very confidential, tactic. I used my best stage whisper. “I think Brad was having a tough time with his marriage.” Jennifer eyes grew wide. I waved off her shock. “You probably already knew that.”

She circled the top of her mug with her finger. “What do you mean?”

“I was friends with his wife. He was leaving her for another woman.”

She looked around uncomfortably.

“He left her on June fifteenth, the same day he was murdered,” I continued.

Jennifer sipped her tea. “I was with my boyfriend, Winter, on June fifteenth.”

“How do you remember that?” I asked.

“Easy. I was with him every night in June, July, and August. Our first night apart was Labor Day.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Brad?” I pressed.

She tapped her teacup, shrugging. “I don’t know. What about his wife? You said he left her. Or the ex? He’d been married before and I don’t think it ended well.”

She seemed to know a lot about him.

“What do you know about the ex?” I asked.

“Svetlana?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Not much. She’s cool.”

“Were you close to Brad?”

She retreated slightly. “He was my boss. People gossip about the boss is all.”

“Anyone gossip about who he was seeing?”

She flushed. “People gossip about everything. You’re friends with the wife. I’m sure you know.”

Know what?

I shook my head. “Michelle didn’t know who he was seeing.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Well, let’s keep it that way,” she spat.

“That won’t be hard. She’s dead.”

Jennifer gasped. “Oh my God!” She covered her mouth with a ring-ladened hand, shaking her head back and forth in denial. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I found her dead in her house yesterday.”

She rose and crossed to a bureau, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bong. “Want a hit?”

“No. No. I’ll pass.”

She frowned. “It’s just a little weed, no big deal.”

“I just had a baby. I’m nursing,” I explained, mentally kicking myself. Why did I have to defend myself and my choices to this woman I barely knew?

“Suit yourself,” she said.

“Were you with Winter yesterday morning?”

“Winter? No. I was working. I work down the street at Heavenly Haight. I open the store every morning at eight A.M.”

“Where was your boyfriend yesterday?”

“What?”

I was fishing now, but I pressed on. “Out of curiosity, where was Winter?”

Jennifer looked down a moment. She took her time preparing the bong. “Winter and I broke up. I thought he was pretty cool at first, but it wasn’t working out. I don’t know where he was yesterday.”

“Do you have his phone number?”

“You want to talk to him?” she asked, shocked.

“My friend is dead. I’d like to talk to anyone who could help.”

Begrudgingly she gave me Winter’s full name and phone number.

Something didn’t ring true. I wanted to check her story with Winter, but first I had to go home. It was time to feed Laurie. My breasts were starting to hurt. I worried about mastitis, although I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Could it be related to plugged milk ducts? I didn’t know what that was either. Whatever they were, neither sounded good, and I knew I didn’t want them.

I steered the Chevy home, and nearly had a heart attack when I saw Galigani’s Honda parked across the street.

Was he staking out my house?

Don’t get paranoid, Kate.

I pulled into the garage and ran upstairs. Mother was watching the Spanish language station. Laurie was asleep in the bassinet.

“What are you doing?” I asked Mom.

“I’m trying to learn Spanish.”

“Why?” I glanced at the screen. El Gordo y La Flaca was on.

“Because Hank asked me to go with him on a cruise to the Mexican Riviera.”

I strained to look out the window at Galigani’s car.

“Did anyone call or ring the bell or anything?”

“No. So, is it okay with you, dear?”

“What?”

“I’ll only be gone a week. But I wanted to make sure I clear any vacation plans with you first. Because of Laurie.

Who’ll watch her when you need to go shopping? What did you get anyway?” She searched the floor for shopping bags.

“Oh. Nothing. Nothing fit.”

Mother mistook my distraction as disappointment. “Don’t worry, dear, it’s only been a few weeks. You’ll get your figure back in no time.”

“Mom, I need to go downstairs a minute, okay?”

She stared after me as I closed the front door behind me and ran down the steps.

Was Galigani having trouble with his car again?

As I approached, I noticed he was slumped over the steering wheel. I felt faint.

Oh, sweet Jesus. Not again.

I knocked on his window. He didn’t move. I couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He looked pretty lifeless.

Had someone killed Galigani in front of my house?

I ran back inside the house, ignoring the excruciating pain that shot through my hips and pelvic bones. I grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Mom noticed the alarm on my face. “What it is, dear?”

“I don’t know.” Please don’t be dead, I prayed. “There’s a man parked outside and he’s slumped over the steering wheel.”

Mother rushed to the window. “Do you know him?”