Diana Orgain - Bundle of Trouble

Maybe she’d have a boy. Could the old wives’ tale be true, about boys extending outward and girls curling around?

“Hi, sorry to disturb you. Are you Kiku?”

She nodded, resting her hands on her belly.

“I’m Kate Connolly. Did you have an appointment with Investigator Galigani today?”

“Yes,” Kiku said with a heavy Japanese accent.

“Unfortunately, he’s in the hospital. Open heart surgery.”

Kiku’s face creased with the appropriate amount of concern one usually displays when hearing about someone else’s misfortune.

Should I go so far as to say Galigani sent me?

Before I could decide, Kiku opened the door and motioned Laurie and me inside.

Her apartment was small. We entered straight into the living room. I could see into the tiny kitchen. There was a door to the left, which I assumed led to the bedroom. The place was sparsely decorated in soft feminine tones, and I could tell by the couch and the paintings that she had expensive taste.

She motioned me toward the sofa. I sat down, placing Laurie’s bucket next to me.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to bring Laurie along. But this woman was pregnant. She couldn’t be a murderer, right?

Kiku admired Laurie. “Beautiful baby girl. Big blue eyes!”

“Yours will be beautiful, too. When are you due?”

“Soon. Soon.”

We smiled at each other as Kiku reached out and stroked Laurie’s little foot. “Tell me, was labor difficult?”

It seemed odd that for nine months all I had thought about was Laurie’s arrival and the upcoming labor. Stressing out about how I would handle everything. And yet now, one month later, I had hardly given labor a second thought.

I looked at Kiku’s pregnant belly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s really not that bad, not like you’re imagining. But I had the epidural, so I guess some people would say that’s cheating.”

After opting for pain relief during labor, I justified my choice by comparing the epidural with modern transportation. If someone said to me, “Women have been having babies without any pain medication since the beginning of time,” my response was, “Yeah? And they also walked everywhere, because they didn’t have a car. Now we have cars and pain medication. So, guess what? I had the epidural and we drove to the hospital.” People didn’t bring up the epidural after that.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Kiku waddled to the kitchen. I dug out my notebook from Laurie’s diaper bag and reviewed my notes.

The note “ next time interviewing suspect bring own water ” stared me in the face.

Oops.

I’d forgotten to pack water. Writing things down didn’t help if I didn’t read them in time. When was my memory going to come back?

I glanced around the living room. Kiku appeared to be living alone.

Could she have been Brad’s other woman? She was short, whereas Michelle and Svetlana were both tall. Kiku was definitely in their league where looks were concerned. Her dark hair shone brightly and her complexion was flawless. Svetlana and Kiku were both immigrants. Maybe Brad had a weakness for. . what? Accents?

A baby on the way?

Could it be Brad’s?

If he’d been expecting a child with Kiku, it would give him a strong motive to leave Michelle. Galigani suspected his murderer was the other woman, but could five-foot Kiku have killed him? Shot him, maybe. But ditch his body in the bay? How? Could she have had the strength? And why? Lover’s tiff?

And with Brad dead, what motive would she have had for murdering Michelle and Svetlana?

Although the women were not dumped, only Brad. Did this mean two murderers?

Kiku reappeared with a tray of green tea and ginger snaps.

“How long have you been in the country?” I asked.

“Two years.” She propped her legs on the chair across from me, her movement constricted by her large belly. “Hard to stay on my feet.”

“I know.”

My feet had swelled so much during my pregnancy that I’d had to purchase size eight shoes, an entire size larger than usual, and never mind the style. They were shoes that not even my grandmother would have worn, but boy, were they comfy.

I watched Kiku delicately sip her tea.

I was so thirsty.

A pregnant woman wouldn’t poison a new mom, would she?

I remembered Michelle sprawled across her living room floor.

Forget the tea.

“Do you know why Galigani wanted to meet with you?”

She nodded. “Meet about Brad.”

She didn’t look brokenhearted. This couldn’t be the “other woman,” unless she was acting. Maybe she was secretly falling apart.

I played with my teacup, hoping she wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t actually drinking anything. “How did you know Brad?”

“He hired me,” she replied.

“You work at El Paraiso?”

She sipped her tea. “No. Not now. Before.”

“How long did you work there?”

She tilted her head in thought. “Two months.”

“Why did you leave?”

“My English is not so good. Too hard to work in a restaurant. People talking, talking, talking all the time. I go to beauty school now.” She smiled shyly and covered her mouth as she giggled.

“Your English is fine,” I said.

“Much better now. I study.”

I glanced at the fine paintings covering her apartment walls. Where was a beauty school student getting all this money? “Are you working?”

“No. Not now. Later. After baby. Now I study. Beauty and English!” She giggled again.

I self-consciously ran my hand through my tangled curls. “I need to get a haircut.”

“No problem. You come back. I can cut for you.”

I laughed. “Sure. Why not?” I paused. “Kiku, did you know Brad was killed?” Her expression was oddly blank as she nodded. “He was killed on June fifteenth. I’m investigating his murder.”

How could I politely ask if Brad was the father of her baby?

I mumbled, “Do you know who would want to kill Brad?”

Kiku’s eyes grew wide. “No,” she whispered.

I glanced at Laurie, still in her car seat bucket. She was examining a toy I’d attached to the strap. I felt at a loss. Obviously, Galigani had wanted me to meet Kiku, but why? I didn’t know what questions to ask or what to do. I felt foolish. This kind, pregnant woman couldn’t have shot Brad. What was I doing here? I stood in frustration, ready to leave. My movement caught Laurie’s eye and she began to cry.

Kiku jumped up in distress. “Oh little girl! Little baby!”

I laughed, remembering the panic of the first few days when Laurie’s cry would set off all sort of alarms inside me. “She’s okay. Don’t worry.” I freed Laurie from the bucket to find her jumper soaked through. “She needs a diaper change. May I use your bathroom?”

Kiku indicated I should walk through the bedroom. I grabbed Laurie’s diaper bag and headed toward the bathroom. Kiku’s face still reflected a certain amount of terror. Oh well, she’d get used to life with an infant.

Inside the bathroom, I pulled out a clean jumper for Laurie and quickly went through the diaper routine. I turned her onto her tummy on the diaper pad and washed my hands in the sink. Laurie was now able to hold up her head and at least not have a fit when placed on her tummy. I studied my reflection in the medicine chest. I looked tired and frazzled. On impulse, I opened the medicine chest. A prescription for Valium stared me in the face.

I gagged. From my research online I knew the drug Michelle had died from, diazepam, was the generic form of Valium. Kiku had a prescription for Valium. The label showed a fifty count of five-milligram tablets. I rattled the bottle, then opened it. Ten pills remained. The date on the prescription was November of last year. Before Kiku’s pregnancy. Before Michelle’s death.