Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,26

you know Michelle?”

“We went to high school together.”

I recounted for him the details of my finding Michelle dead. I left every single George reference out.

He tapped his notebook and squinted at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something, Mrs. Connolly?”

I shrugged. If he wanted to know anything about George, let him ask me directly.

“Do you know anything about Michelle’s investments?”

I frowned. “Investments?”

What exactly was he getting at?

“I understand she and Brad owned a restaurant.”

I pressed my lips together to remind to myself to keep my trap shut about George. “Yup, that’s about what I know, too.”

“Ever been there before?”

“I ate lunch there day before yesterday. My car got broken into in front. I don’t think I’ll be going back.”

He scratched at his mustache. “You mentioned that earlier. Second time, huh?”

What had I said earlier?

“Something about your brother-in-law missing,” he continued.

Big-mouth Kate. “That’s right,” was the best I could muster. I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus. How much did this guy know or need to know?

Could he help us locate George?

“What do you charge?” I wondered out loud.

He squinted at me. “You want your husband followed or something?”

I looked down at my robe. “Do I look that bad?”

His face flushed. “Uh . . . sorry . . . that’s the most common thing people want to hire me for. Two hundred dollars an hour.”

I gagged. Obviously, I was in the wrong profession.

“You need help locating your brother-in-law?”

I stared at him.

Yes. The answer was yes. Yet I muttered, “Ummm . . . not sure . . .”

Galigani nodded. “You mind telling me where you were on June fifteenth?”

Was he serious? I studied his face. He studied me back.

“I honestly can’t remember. I could look it up on my calendar.”

“Please,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.

“All right,” I mumbled as I made my way toward my bedroom, where I kept my appointment calendar.

I grabbed the calendar and peeked in on Laurie. She was as still as a statue. I stood over her, waiting for any kind of movement.

Her foot twitched, followed by some shadow boxing. She settled down after a moment, still asleep.

I heard Galigani shuffling in the living room and quickly made my way back. I paged to June. “Ah yes!” I said. “June fifteenth. I knew it sounded familiar. Our friend Paula’s little boy, Danny, turned two. They had a party for him.”

“You went to the party?” Galigani asked.

“Of course.”

“Was your husband with you?”

My breath caught. I felt as though Galigani had hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat. “Jim and I were at the party all day. Together. Plenty of people saw us.”

What I didn’t tell Galigani was that Jim had left the party early. He had come down with a terrible sinus headache, which he gets at least once every summer when the pollen count is at its highest in San Francisco. Although Jim didn’t like leaving me unescorted, I had insisted he go home, but there was no reason for Galigani to know that.

“Hmmm,” Galigani murmured as he scratched his mustache. “Can I see that?” He gestured to my appointment book.

“Sure.” I handed Galigani my book, trying to act nonchalant. “I’ve even got the invite somewhere.” I reached over his hands and flipped to the back of my planner. Sure enough, Paula’s invite with a picture of a smiling Danny peeked out under the flap. I pulled out the invite. “It says noon to four, but we ended up staying longer. The party probably lasted until about six or seven, then people starting leaving, we stayed. Paula’s a close friend. We ordered Thai, watched a movie, and just sort of hung out. Her little boy went to sleep early, exhausted from the excitement of the party, the toys, the people. He kept banging a drum that he got—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how two-year-old boys can be.”

“We probably left around eleven or so.” I was using the euphemistic “we” as in the yet unborn Laurie and me. Not a lie, exactly.

Omission. Okay, maybe a white lie.

His mustache twisted to the side, then he nodded. “Your alibi appears iron tight. Mind if I take down your friend’s address and number?”

With Paula in France, even if Galigani went to her place, he wouldn’t find her home. That would buy me a little time to get to her before he did.

I handed him the invite. “No problem. But why? I mean, Jim and I didn’t even know Brad Avery.”

He jotted the address down.