Bundle of Trouble (19 page)

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.

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:

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.

“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.

•CHAPTER FIFTEEN•

The Fifth Week—Head Held High

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?

I didn’t want to think of Jim’s lack of an alibi for June fifteenth. I didn’t want to think about the police possibly moving forward with a trial against Jim. I didn’t want to think about my bed being empty, trying to raise Laurie on my own.

I thought, instead, of fighting like hell to get the love of my life out of jail. Fighting like hell to find the real murderer.
Keep your mind on what you want, Kate, and off what you don’t want,
I reminded myself.

I needed to find the murderer. I needed to get Jim off the hook and to launch my new career. I had no option.

At 4 A.M. I fed Laurie. She immediately went back to sleep. I got up and made coffee. I reviewed my to-do list from the day before and modified it.

 

1. Free Jim.

2. Interview Kiku (bring own water!).

3. Call Winter Henderson re: hippie chick alibi.

4. Find Brad and/or Michelle’s and/or Svetlana’s killer.

5. Tummy time!!! (in progress).

6. Make OB appointment.

7. Stop being rude.

It took me a while to understand my
Stop being rude
entry. Then I finally remembered the thank-you cards.

What the hell. It was four-thirty in the morning; may as well start somewhere. I completed the thank-you cards and fell into an exhausted sleep. Laurie woke me at 7 A.M. with hungry cries and I figured then was as good a time as any to begin my day.

 

 

Laurie and I waited in a stark white room to see Jim. There was a rectangular table in the center with four chairs around it and an all-too-familiar two-way mirror hanging from the wall. Jim appeared, escorted by a deputy sheriff. Jim was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, which immediately brought me to tears.

His face broke into a sad smile. “You don’t think it’s my color?” He embraced Laurie and me. “It’s so good to see you guys. I had an awful night.”

“Me, too. Couldn’t sleep.”

The deputy sheriff retreated out of the room, presumably to watch us through the mirror, giving us a false sense of privacy.

Jim absently brushed my hair off my face. “You look exhausted. Did you talk to my attorney?”

“He called me last night. He’s meeting us here at nine.”

Jim pulled a chair out for me. “So you heard about Svetlana Avery?”

I nodded, sitting. “What do you think happened?”

Jim sat next to me and rested his hand on my thigh. “All I could gather is that she was shot.”

“She must have known something. When I told her about Michelle’s death, she nearly passed out. She told me she had a migraine coming on. It seemed odd to me at the time, but maybe she was afraid.”

Jim looked surprised. “When did you even meet with her?”

“The other day. She called the house.”

“Why did she call us?”

“Well, actually, I called her, but never mind that.”

Jim looked unconvinced. “You think she knew who killed Brad and Michelle?”

“Why else would she end up dead?”

Jim reached for my hand. “You can’t investigate anymore, Kate. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”

“I have to. You’re in jail.”

“Leave it to the pros, honey. This Crane guy will figure it out. He sounded pretty confident last night when I spoke with him.”

As if on cue, the door to the meeting room opened and Charles Crane appeared, escorted by the same deputy. The deputy waited for Mr. Crane to settle his briefcase onto the table and nod before closing the door.

Mr. Crane had a sweater wrapped around his shoulders and an unlit pipe between his teeth. He looked like his photo. He was small in stature with silver highlights in his dark hair.

He introduced himself as he took a seat across from us. “Not to sound insensitive, Mr. Connolly, but do we need to have our conversation in private?” Crane glanced in my direction.

“Anything you want to discuss with me, you can do so in front of my wife.”

Mr. Crane nodded, clearing his throat. “As you’re aware, you’ve been charged with assault with a deadly weapon, for fighting with your brother. The victim, George Connolly, is unavailable. Or, in other words, has not stepped forward to press charges. Therefore, if the case is to be presented to the DA, it will most likely be deemed ‘insufficient grounds for arrest’ and the case will be dropped.”

I rocked Laurie back and forth in my arms, trying to dissipate my nervousness. “So, they’re going to let Jim go?”

“Under other circumstances he would have already been released, but homicide left a request for inquiry under the name ‘Connolly’,” Crane said.

Jim exhaled. “When the cops booked me, they saw my last name and had to hold me so that McNearny could talk to me, right?”

Crane blinked his affirmation.

“You talked to McNearny?” I asked. “What did he want to know?”

Jim shrugged. “About George. When I’d seen him last, where he was staying and what he was doing, who he was friends with. All that kind of stuff.”

Crane tapped his unlit pipe. “Once the police have you in custody, they like to hold you as long as legally possible. Make you nervous, hope anything you’ve conveniently
forgotten
about your brother might be remembered.”

Jim rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. “I really don’t know anything—”

“I do. Well, a little.” I filled them in on my conversation with George the previous day, including the cell phone number he’d given me.

“This may help,” Crane said. “If we can bring George in, it will take the pressure off your husband. The police don’t consider Jim a serious suspect, they’re just trying to squeeze information out of him.”

“That’s a relief,” I said.