her inside.

“I thought maybe you were here because you had some news . . . ?”

“News?”

She shrugged. “I guess I was hoping you were going to tell me that the results from the hospital were ready.”

“The hospital wouldn’t release your results to me.”

She eyed me. “Really, I thought because you’re an investigator, you might get the results from the medical examiner.” She sat down on a waiting room chair and looked crushed. “I was hoping that the results would be in and they would show conclusively that Bruce poisoned me with the same thing he used to poison Helene. I keep waiting for someone to tell me he’s in jail.”

Her shoulders slumped and she looked ready to cry.

What was I thinking? This woman had been poisoned. Surely if she was dating Bruce and suspected him, she would have made the affair known.

It had to be Alan.

I crouched down next to her. “Celia, about that day, what can you tell about the morning? Did you see anybody else, maybe earlier in the day? Before going to Bruce’s house?”

She sniffled and snapped to attention. “Just my normal client list.” She stood and crossed to the reception area. She looked at the appointment book on the counter, running her finger down a daily column. “The fifteenth? Hmmm, pretty dead really. Just Evelyn came in for her appointment. She’s getting close now and coming in weekly.”

Right. Evelyn had told me about the appointment.

“Did you go anywhere before Bruce’s?” I asked.

“Let’s see.” She paced around and looked thoughtful as though she was trying to re-create events in her mind. “I had the appointment with Evelyn in the morning at ten A.M. then left here and went to Bruce’s. He’d called me the night before and asked me to meet with him. He said he wanted to talk about the adoption.”

I leaned against the arm of the waiting chair. “Did you stop anywhere along the way? To get coffee? Or pick up dry cleaning?”

Or see your boyfriend, Alan?

She shook her head. “No. I don’t typically buy coffee—it’s so expensive! Four-fifty for a cup? No way.” She glanced down at her track suit. “And dry cleaning? I don’t know if anything in my closet is dry clean only.”

Maybe she could afford the rent because she wasn’t spending money on coffee or dry cleaning bills.

“This is a nice place you have here. How long have you been here?”

“The center is brand-new. Sara’s husband, you know Sara, right?”

I nodded.

“He remodeled it for me. He’s a contractor—gave me a great price. The place used to be a record store. I got a deal on the rent because the area is low foot traffic, which is fine with me, because people don’t usually select a midwife by spontaneously walking in. Let me show you around.”

I followed her to a back room. There was a beautiful birthing pool in the center of the room. Around the sides of the room were large exercise balls, a shelf with towels, and several laundry baskets. Celia dimmed the lights and pressed Play on the stereo. There were small lights around the baseboards and the room seemed to glow.

“This room is where most of my moms deliver. There’s an exam room next door. Did you want to see that?”

I shook my head. “No. This is wonderful.”

And it was. It was truly beautiful and relaxing. I still couldn’t see myself giving birth outside of a hospital, but now I understood the draw.

“Did Margaret give birth here?”

“No, she was my first client in the Bay Area after I moved up from L.A. She had Marcus at her home.”

I imagined Celia assisting Margaret giving birth. Margaret—swollen belly, sweating, tired, probably swearing at Alan, juxtaposed next to Celia—olive skin, calm, beautiful.

How could a father witnessing the birth of his baby choose to be with the midwife instead of the mother of his own child?

At that moment in my mind, Alan was worse than pond scum.

“I’ve always wanted my own center,” Celia continued.

“So, I got this lease and fixed up the place. I need to find some staff now. Do you know anyone?”

I shook my head.

Celia led me back up to the front.

I pointed to the roses on the reception console. “Boyfriend?”

She smiled. “No. The roses are from me. The one thing I allowed myself to splurge on when I got out of the hospital.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Research

To Do:

1. Why would anyone poison Celia?

2. Where is Margaret?

3. Must get house in order for Thanksgiving!

4. Shop, cook, clean.

5. Drink water.

6. Exercise—or will have nothing