Diana Orgain - Bundle of Trouble

“What shop?”

George’s eyes flicked back and forth. “I mean. . you know, the restaurant, El Paraiso.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve really got to run, Kate. Jim will probably be home soon and he’ll be frosted.”

After he left, I collapsed onto the couch, suddenly realizing how drained I was. I closed my eyes for what seemed a second, okay maybe five seconds, before Laurie let out a howl.

I took a deep breath, pried one eye open, and went to pick her up from her bassinet. She immediately nestled into me and quieted down.

I stared into her lovely face and tried to quell all the voices in my head. I sat and inhaled her scent and studied the curve of her cheek.

When would Jim be released? Were they really going to present a case to the DA? Should Jim have called me by now?

I decided I needed food to fuel my worry. I put on the baby carrier and shifted Laurie into it so I could rummage through our refrigerator. When was the last time I had gone grocery shopping? I spotted a container of leftovers and greedily pulled it out. One whiff and I could safely say there was nothing edible remaining in it. I dumped the container and continued to rummage. I found an apple.

I moved from the fridge to the freezer.

Jackpot.

I’d stockpiled frozen meals that had been on sale. I threw a chicken cordon bleu pasta dish into the microwave.

After eating the chicken, I threw in a Southwestern style cheese enchilada dish and topped it off with the apple for dessert. Oh, well, at least the apple was healthy.

The phone rang, interrupting my calorie counting.

Jim’s voice filled the line. “Honey?”

“Jim! Are you on your way home?”

“I’m still in jail.”

The frozen meals turned to stone in my stomach. “For how long?”

“I don’t know. The officer in charge isn’t very chatty. They told me I had one phone call. Can you call an attorney?”

“How can they hold you? George said he isn’t going to press any charges.”

“They’re charging me with assault with a deadly weapon. At first they told me they were releasing me, but then they came back and said I had one phone call. I’m really sorry, Kate. I hate putting you through this.”

“Assault with a deadly weapon! What weapon?”

“It doesn’t have to be a gun or anything, it can be your hands. The cop says he saw me strangling George. I need you to call me an attorney.”

“Who should I call?”

“I don’t know. Start with the phone book.”

“All right. Don’t worry, honey. I’m on it.”

“I shouldn’t have let George get to me like that. I should have kept my cool. Whatever George says or does, you and Laurie are my family. I can’t do anything to jeopardize you guys, like blow my top and land up in jail. I’m a father now.”

I heard noises in the background. It sounded like someone was rushing Jim off the phone.

“Gotta go, honey,” he said, hanging up.

I broke down in tears. It felt like something was tightening around my heart. I went to Laurie’s bassinet and picked her up. Smelling her sweet scent dried my eyes. I had to be strong for her. Fix things for her. Bring her daddy home.

I dialed Galigani’s hospital room. He had to know a good criminal defense attorney.

If someone had told me just a few short weeks ago that I’d be searching out an attorney for my husband, I’d have told him or her they were crazy. Now I hoped I wasn’t the crazy one.

Galigani’s phone rang and rang.

He’d had the open heart surgery this morning. The nurse who took my message told me he had gotten through it fine and was still in the intensive care unit. They expected to upgrade his condition in the morning.

I settled Laurie into the baby carrier and hopped online, hoping to find an attorney. I did a local search and pulled some profiles. There were several attorneys with nearby addresses. One had his picture on his website. He appeared to be in his late fifties and was smoking a pipe in the photograph. Something about the picture made him look capable.

The pipe maybe?

I glanced at my watch, almost 6 P.M.

Please be working late tonight, Mr. Crane.

I punched his phone number into my cordless.

“Charles Crane here. How can I help you?” the voice crackled.

I filled him in as best I could, asking him to meet him at the police station. He told me to relax, said it sounded like Jim could be released with a few phone calls.

I waited for Mr. Crane to call me back. I paced. I played with Laurie. I did laundry and even dusted. Boy, had things around the house been neglected!

I fed and bathed Laurie. I did everything I could to keep myself busy.

Finally, I lay down on the bed and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.

It didn’t.

It was 9 P.M. I was exhausted. I put Laurie into the bassinet. She fell sound asleep. No fuss at all. Of course. Since I couldn’t sleep, she’d find a way to peacefully sleep through the night. Where was the justice in the world?

I got online and caught up with e-mail. There was a message from Paula in my in-box:

Girl! What do you mean Michelle Dupree was murdered? And her husband, too? I can’t leave you alone for a minute without you getting yourself all caught up in a drama! I miss you. I haven’t heard from the Galigani guy, but don’t worry. If I do, I’ll tell him both you and Jim were at my place until all hours of the night. Just like in high school with our all-night parties! Can’t believe Michelle is gone.

I loved the picture of Laurie. She looks exactly like Jim, doesn’t she? I hope we’ll be coming home soon. David is getting all sorts of flak from his firm, and I really want to be home to start my own business. Be an entrepreneurial mommy! Oh that and the baby is due soon! Ha! Not that soon-four months-but who’s counting?

Love, love, love you guys! Write soon.

She had attached instructions on how to use the breast pump. Well, instructions was a relative term; it was a hand-sketched cartoon which she had scanned. The drawing showed me with boobs the size of basketballs attached to a monster machine. I responded to her e-mail and updated her on the additional hysteria in my life, including Jim’s incarceration, George’s visit, and my very first client.

The phone rang.

I leapt for it.

“Mrs. Connolly?” I heard a little puff in the background.

His pipe. Crane.

“I’ve been in touch with the police. I’m afraid they’re not going to release your husband tonight.”

“Why?”

“There’s an unresolved homicide they’re looking into.”

“I know. Brad, and there’s also Michelle Avery, but what does that have to do with Jim?”

“Well, yes, there’s those. But I meant another one. Svetlana Avery.”

My postpartum belly fell to the floor.

I tossed and turned the entire night. I kept reaching out across the bed for Jim, only to be jarred awake by the coldness of the empty sheets. Of course, since I was awake, Laurie was asleep. I checked her breathing a few times and found the rhythm of the rise and fall of her chest soothing.

Svetlana murdered? Mr. Crane had told me she had been shot, killed by a 9mm luger bullet. Ballistics had determined that the bullet had been fired from the same gun that had killed Brad.

Same gun.

George’s gun. Or one like it. But what were the odds of that? It had to be George’s gun.

Had to be the gun registered to Jim’s father. How could we prove that Jim had never had possession of the gun?