Diana Orgain - Bundle of Trouble

Galigani said, “Rich probably hadn’t factored in that you’d totally lose control and kill Michelle and Svetlana, too. Who would have been next? Rich? George? Only now they’re safe behind bars.”

“What I don’t understand is how you could kill your own sister,” I said.

KelliAnn’s face turned as red as her hair. “My sister? Yeah, right. She didn’t care about me. My dad’s the only one who really loved me,” she said. “My mother passed away when I was fourteen. I was sent to live with Dad and that awful woman and Michelle. Michelle always wanted a sister, and I guess, at that age, she didn’t realize the implications. She didn’t. .” KelliAnn moved toward the mantel and reflected on a ceramic vase. “I was her father’s child and we were only a few years apart. Michelle didn’t realize that that meant her father had been living with my mother while he told Michelle and her mother that he was away on business trips. He was really living a double life.”

“Rough,” Galigani said, sidestepping the coffee table and squaring himself off with KelliAnn.

KelliAnn closed her eyes, lost in the past. “He was a commercial airline pilot. I guess my mom and I were the ‘other port’ for him. It’s okay. I forgave him. I loved him. The bracelet was from him. He engraved it for me, with BERRY, because of my ‘berry berry red hair,’ like he used to say. I never took it off.” Tears streamed down her face. “He did his best to take care of me, even though it ruined his other marriage and, eventually, his relationship with Michelle.”

Galigani surprised me by saying, “The other marriage was already ruined before you got there.”

“Michelle and her mom never really accepted me. I see that now,” KelliAnn said. “At the time I didn’t. Something like that is difficult to explain to a fourteen-year-old whose mother has just passed away. Yes, I was the redheaded stepchild, quite literally. They tried to send me to the same school as Michelle. Your school,” she spat, eyeing me contemptuously. “It was obvious that I didn’t fit in there. And wouldn’t. You know how that school was with ‘problem’ children.’ ”

“I remember you were there only a short time.”

“Yes,” KelliAnn said, gripping the ceramic vase. “I was sent to a ‘special needs’ school.” She let out a blood-curdling scream and hurled the vase at Galigani’s head.

He ducked and it smashed against the back wall. I dove behind the sofa. KelliAnn continued to scream as she grabbed the lamp next, knocking the phone off the table. I’m sure she would have loved to peg me with it but decided Galigani in the open room was a better bet. She swung the lamp from its cord in a wide circle. Galigani dodged her.

I surfaced from behind the couch long enough to grab the phone.

No dial tone.

The cord had fallen out the back. I jammed the cord in place as KelliAnn closed in on Galigani. “I’m not going to an institution!” she screamed. “Never again!”

I watched in horror as KelliAnn swung the lamp again and this time hit Galigani square in the chin. He stumbled back and hit the wall dazed. She changed her grip from the cord to the base of the lamp. I dropped the phone and seized the moment to charge her. She raised the lamp above her head ready to smash Galigani just as I tackled her from behind.

She crumpled beneath me, taking the lamp down with her. It broke in several pieces, leaving KelliAnn with an ugly jagged piece in her hand. She rolled me off her quickly and waved the piece near my face.

Galigani regained himself and grabbed KelliAnn’s hair. This pulled her off me long enough for me to retreat to the phone. I dialed 9-1-1.

Even though Galigani had her by the hair, KelliAnn was still swinging and, because she was on the ground, found his weak spot. She was going for his groin but missed and hit his right leg, which was still fresh from surgery. Galigani went down like a rag doll.

The 9-1-1 operator came on the line, although it was difficult to hear because KelliAnn was laughing hysterically. To my terror, she was staring at Galigani’s exposed ankle holster.

Adrenaline shot through my body with a force I’ve never felt before, and with what seemed like supernatural strength, I dove right for KelliAnn.

If she got to Galigani’s gun, I was a dead woman.

Laurie’s face flashed in my mind and I hardly realized I was screaming and crying as I descended onto KelliAnn, smashing her nose with my elbow.

She recoiled, momentarily dazed, her hands covering her bleeding nose. I fumbled for Galigani’s gun but perhaps he mistook me for her, or maybe instinct took over, because he scissored my hand between his ankles.

I drew back, which gave KelliAnn the opportunity to kick me in the ribs. Winded and in excruciating pain, I doubled over.

She took advantage of this and grabbed my head, wrapping her fingers into my hair. This really pissed me off because recently it seemed my hair was falling out left and right.

Postpartum hair loss and this bitch was going to pull out the few remaining strands!

With a fury only a mother can know, I heaved myself up and rammed my hard head into KelliAnn’s face. As my head connected with her no doubt broken nose, she yelped and released my hair. I quickly pulled her face into my knee. She moaned and fell to the ground.

The room was finally silent, until I heard the voice through the phone.

I lunged to grab it, only to hear sirens down the street. I put the receiver to my ear.

“Help is on the way, ma’am,” the operator said.

I was shaking uncontrollably. “Thanks,” I muttered into the phone.

Galigani stirred. He observed KelliAnn lying at his feet. “You did great, kid. Only next time, try to tackle ’em before they hit me.”

I drove home with mixed emotions. I should have felt elated that I’d finally solved the mystery. At least I could cross that off my to-do list. But I had unresolved feelings.

People were dead, some were behind bars, and others hadn’t slept in weeks.

Maybe it was the hormones or being overtired, or the adrenaline leaving my system; whatever the reason, I broke down and cried.

In the morning I woke up more exhausted than ever. I showered and delighted in shaving my legs. Shaving your legs while pregnant not only feels unsafe but is next to impossible. I fussed in the closet and decided on a gray and white striped wool skirt with a very forgiving elastic waist and a cashmere sweater.

When I got to the shoe part, I tried my best not to cry. I stuffed my feet into open-toed heels, only to find that they were so tight they made my feet look like sausages.

Can’t anything ever be easy?

From the back of my closet, I pulled out some open-heeled pumps. Definitely sexy, but the problem was, they were higher than what I normally wore. It had been so long since I’d worn heels, I feared I might break my neck in them.

I had a three-hour window until the next feeding. Time to hustle.

I kissed Jim awake.

He raised a sleepy eyebrow. “Are you wearing a skirt?” “Yeah. I even shaved my legs.”

“Oh my God! What’s going on that I don’t know about?”

“I need you to watch Laurie. I have a very important meeting.”

“Lucky guy.”

“What makes you think it’s with a man?”

“You wouldn’t have shaved your legs for a woman. You’d wear jeans.”

“Ha ha! I have my six-week postpartum checkup this morning.” I winked at him. “But I’m free for lunch.”