tell Gary.

Why didn’t I just tell him I’d heard it from Alan?

Now, I couldn’t very well tell him my mother had snagged the information from Alan’s receptionist. That would sound completely stupid—like I was dependent on my mommy for my survival as a PI. Never mind the fact that it was one of her boyfriends who was letting me use his license.

Bruce slouched and allowed his head to fall heavily into his hands. “I didn’t know anything about it. Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry. Yes. It’s true.”

Was he legitimately stunned or had he rehearsed this reaction?

At that moment, Paula emerged from the bathroom and walked down the hallway toward us.

I gestured to the bathroom “May I?”

“Of course,” Bruce said.

Paula reached us and said, “I hear you have a great view.”

I excused myself and headed down the hall as Paula said, “I love views of the bay. Can we take a peek?”

Bruce, still slightly pale, said, “Um . . . Yeah, sure.”

Paula called after me, “We’ll be on the roof, Kate.”

“No problem,” I said over my shoulder.

I stopped at the bathroom door and listened as they climbed the metal staircase. I could hear them chatting overhead. Mostly Paula, Bruce seemingly going through the motions or pretending he was.

I made a mad dash into the master bedroom. There were gorgeous gold curtains and a matching coverlet on the bed. The furniture was handsome and heavy. An antique set of dressers adorned either side of the bed. On top of each dresser were gold candlesticks and several dishes that held knickknacks.

I circled the room quickly. The closet looked in order, nothing out of the ordinary. It would help if I knew what I was looking for, but I was clueless. I entered the master bath and pulled open the medicine chest: cold creams, makeup, makeup remover, and nicotine patches. Looked like Helene had taken Margaret’s advice and bought some. I peeked in the package—half empty. Apparently they hadn’t worked for her either, because that night on the cruise she still wanted a cigarette.

Sadness filled my gut and I felt a hopelessness overcome me.

What was I looking for?

If I was Bruce, where would I hide a poison? Certainly not in the bathroom. That would be obvious. I returned to the bedroom. If he still had anything incriminating, which he probably didn’t—unless he was planning on poisoning someone else . . .

Paula was alone with him upstairs.

Fear raced through me and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I knew she was fine. It was more likely that I’d be caught snooping than anything happening to Paula.

If I were Bruce, I would hide poison . . . where?

I went to one of the dressers and pulled opened the top drawer. My hands were shaking. The drawer held ties and silk handkerchiefs. The balance of the dresser held clothes, and the closest thing I got to poison was a few mothballs.

On top of the dresser the little gold dish held a pair of cuff links and some loose change.

I had to get out of the room. They could return at any second and I would be caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

For my final snooping, because it is beyond my nature to stop myself from snooping before I actually have to, I yanked open Helene’s top drawer. It was filled with designer scarves, slips, and bras. I opened the next drawer: panties, hose, and some lingerie. The remaining drawers held sweaters, tops, and finally jeans.

I was out of drawers and out of luck.

On top of her dresser the gold dish held rings, a bracelet, and three pairs of earrings. I fingered the jewelry and the dish slipped a bit, revealing an envelope tucked underneath. It wasn’t hidden exactly, more like held in place for safekeeping under the dish. I pulled the envelope out and looked inside.

It was a plane ticket, printed from her home computer. SFO to Costa Rica. It was an open ticket; no date was set. And the Special Note on the bottom stated she’d be flying with an infant.

Sadness overtook me. This was Helene’s ticket for when the adoption occurred. Of course, no date was set. They were waiting for the baby to be born. And now what? How would this little baby grow up? Without Helene, Bruce wouldn’t take the baby. And probably he wasn’t a fit father anyway. Celia was most likely right about that.

What about the affair? Could Helene have been ready to back out from the