Bundle of Trouble - By Diana Orgain Page 0,57

see, that’s the thing. I don’t know what she was doing there. What could she have been doing at Michelle Avery’s place?”

“Have you asked her?”

He stared at the ground. “No.”

“Maybe we should talk to her together,” I said.

The doorbell sounded. George jumped. “Are you expecting someone?”

I opened the front door, hoping for Jim, but was greeted by the Chinese food delivery guy. I clutched the pink plastic bag and peeked inside. White steaming containers peered back at me. My mouth watered.

I closed the front door and turned to George. “You’ve got to try this. The best in town.”

I popped opened a box, pulled out a pot sticker, and handed it to him.

George sank his teeth into the pot sticker. “Pretty good,” he said through a mouthful. “Hot.”

I nodded, biting around the corners of my pot sticker, letting most of the heat steam out before popping it into my mouth. “Let’s meet up tomorrow, talk to Kiku.”

His face fell. “Can’t we do it today? I’ve been avoiding asking her all week.”

“I can’t today. I’m . . . I’m waiting for Jim to come home.”

“Doesn’t he normally get home around five? We’ve got plenty of time.”

My stomach flip-flopped.

How much should I tell George?

“Sit down. Let me get us plates.”

I made my way to the kitchen and scrambled for a couple of place settings and napkins. Obviously, George didn’t know about Svetlana. Where had he been yesterday morning?

I returned to the living room to find George staring down at Laurie.

“She sure doesn’t cry much.”

“Ha. Not while she’s being held. Just try to put her down to have lunch.”

I scooped generous portions of steaming chow mein onto each plate. George looked around for somewhere to set Laurie. I indicated the bassinet with my fork and proceeded to shovel a sweet-and-sour prawn into my mouth.

George was able to easily extract himself from Laurie. Sitting down to eat, he said, “Babies don’t seem so hard. I don’t know what everyone makes such a big deal about.”

I refrained from letting my eyes roll into the back of my head and continued to devour the food on my plate. I managed to mumble, “Just wait.”

We ate in silence for a moment before I asked, “George, before we saw you at the pier yesterday, where were you?”

He eyed me suspiciously as he slurped up a noodle. “Why?”

“Svetlana Avery was found murdered. Same gun that killed Brad.”

George’s fork clattered onto our hardwood floor. He stood, then sat back down. “Oh my God. How do you know?”

“Jim’s still in jail. Homicide has been questioning him about you. They told him about Svetlana. They have a witness who saw a man leaving her apartment.”

George’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He stood. “I gotta go.”

I grabbed his arm. “No, you don’t! Where do you think you’re going? You have to get to the police station! Jim’s still in jail because of you!”

He pulled his arm free. “Sorry. Things are really getting screwed up. I gotta go . . . I gotta try and fix . . .” He bolted toward the front door and pulled it open.

“Wait, George! Where were you yesterday? Was it you at Svetlana’s? Is that why—”

George bounded down the steps. “I’ll call you later. Don’t worry about Jim. I’m gonna fix everything.”

My heart plummeted to new depths.

Laurie let out a distressed wail as though sensing my panic. I rushed toward the front window.

Where could he be going? I wanted to follow him, grab him by his ear, and drag him to the police station. I should have never settled for talking to him.

Why hadn’t I called Mr. Crane after George called me? I could phone him now, but what good would that do? George was already gone.

I picked Laurie up and nestled her into my shoulder. I paced, willing an idea, any idea, to come into my mind.

Hopelessness and exhaustion bore down on me.

I was fighting back tears when the phone rang. I grabbed the phone, praying it would be Jim.

I was greeted by a far too chipper voice. “Hi, Kate? This is Rachel from Dr. Greene’s office. You haven’t made your six-week appointment yet and I was calling to see if I could schedule that for you.”

I took a breath. “Oh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” I said, trying to match her cheerfulness.

“How are you feeling, Kate?” Her voice suddenly carried more weight.

“I’m fine,” I said, nearly choking on the lump that was rapidly forming in my throat.

“Are you feeling