The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom (25 page)

As I walked up Karen’s stone driveway, I felt prepared for
the conversation that lay ahead. There had been too many secrets and too much
speculation. I felt relieved to finally be sharing what I knew with Doug. And I
was sure he would appreciate having someone to discuss his feelings and
concerns with. I was just about to take the first step up to their front door,
when some movement from inside caught my eye. From this vantage point, I had a
clear view of the family room and part of the casual dining room. Seated at the
table, were two figures: one, a man in a denim shirt—obviously Doug; and the
other, a petite woman with blown-out, shoulder length blond hair. They were each
holding glasses of red wine, and appeared to be in deep conversation. I
watched, silently, as the woman threw her head back with laughter at something
Doug said. I knew enough about body language to see that this was not a
relative or a business associate. There interaction appeared to be flirtatious,
almost intimate. Then the woman stood, walking slowly around the table. There
was something familiar about her fit, compact figure and confident gait. When
she was standing behind Doug, she placed her hands on his shoulders and began
to knead. His head lolled forward, obviously enjoying her ministrations. And
then she looked up.

Holy shit! I dropped down on the bottom step, terrified she
may have spotted me. Oh my God! It was Jackie Baldwin, my babysitter, Katy’s
mom! I didn’t know her well, but I knew enough. She had been divorced for
years, and Katy was her only child. Jackie sold real estate or developed
property or something similar that afforded her a Mercedes, a country-club
membership and a sexy, yet professional wardrobe. She was considered, by most
of the mom population, to be the
cougar
of Aberdeen Mists.

Keeping my head low, I scurried back toward the street. God,
I hoped none of the neighbors were watching me skulk around like some kind of
peeping tom. But obviously, there was no way I could have a heart-to-heart with
Doug while Jackie Baldwin was giving him a massage! In fact, I felt a little
nauseated for having witnessed it. Karen had been gone for… what? Less than two
months! And apparently Doug felt sufficiently healed to be getting a rub-down
by the neighborhood floozie!

This changed everything. In a matter of seconds, Doug had
gone from a grieving, victimized widower, to a promiscuous dirt bag. Perhaps my
instincts were correct and Javier had been telling the truth all along? Doug
had somehow fooled the police with his airplane alibi. How, I didn’t know, but
it had to be possible. Or he had hired someone to knock Karen on the head—a hit
man… or a hit woman? Maybe he had been carrying on with Jackie Baldwin for
months and he’d convinced her to murder Karen while he was on the plane? That
bastard! Now, I would be out of a babysitter as well. I couldn’t very well
continue to use the daughter of the woman who bashed my best friend to death!

I scurried across the road and was soon on my own doorstep.
I hesitated for a few seconds before entering and rejoining my family. My mind
was reeling with this new possibility. Just when I thought I had figured out
what happened to Karen, some new information cropped up. It was like I was
forbidden any peace until the mystery was solved, like Karen was calling for
help from the grave! Okay… maybe I was being a little melodramatic, but I knew
what I had to do.

My first instinct was to call Detective Portman and tell him
what I had seen. Once he knew what a sex-crazed dog Doug really was, he would
undoubtedly re-open the investigation into his alibi. But Paul talked me out of
it. When I arrived home, my husband had just finished washing the hand lotion
out of his hair. I joined him in the bathroom where he was toweling off and
considered sharing the scene I had just witnessed. Part of me thought I should
keep it to myself—just habit by this stage, I guess. But a larger part of me
was bursting to disclose it. Besides, I didn’t owe that pig Doug anything.

Unfortunately, Paul did not agree with my assessment of the
situation. “What’s the big deal?” he asked, rubbing his hair far harder than
was necessary. It was no wonder he was thinning. “So he had a glass of wine
with one of the neighbors. She was probably trying to sell him a condo.”

“By rubbing his shoulders?”

“Hey… apparently she’s one of Boca Group’s top salespeople.
Maybe that’s ‘the closer’?”

“Very funny,” I grumbled. “I know what I saw, and it was not
a business transaction.”

“Well, even if there is something going on between them,
it’s none of your business.”

I recoiled as if slapped. “None of my business? Karen was
one of my best friends!”

“Everyone grieves differently, Paige. Everyone needs a
different amount of time to move on. Maybe Doug’s ready.”

“Really?” I snapped. “So if I died, you’d be getting
shoulder rubs from some realtor a month and half later, would you?”

“No…” he came toward me, a cheeky smile on his face. “I’d
never let anyone rub my shoulders again. I’d stay in mourning until I finally
died of a broken heart.”

“Well… that’s good,” I said. “As long as you didn’t let your
grief interfere with raising the children.”

“I’d try my best.” He reached for me, but I pulled away.

“I’ve got to make some dinner.”

We sat down to a wholesome feast of spaghetti and salad (I
was trying to compensate for a lunch the nutritional equivalent of cardboard).
It was nice sharing a meal with my family. Despite his hangover, or maybe
because of it, Paul was in a buoyant, almost giddy mood. The lighthearted
banter kept me from obsessing about what I had witnessed just hours earlier.

“So…” Spencer said, pausing to noisily slurp a noodle into
his mouth. “Did you know that there is such a thing as worms that live in your
intestines?”

“Not at the table,” I admonished.

“But it’s really true! And when they get bored in your
intestines, they come out your bum!” My fork dropped to my plate with a noisy
clatter.

“Oh my God!” Chloe screamed. “You are so disgusting!”

“I’m not disgusting,” Spencer argued. “It’s the truth. This
one time, this kid had worms in his intestines, and then at night, his dad took
a flashlight and he shone it on his butt—”

“SHUT UP!” His sister howled.

“Chloe!” I scolded, although I, too, was hoping that Spencer
would shut up.

“But I’m gonna barf!” She protested.

Paul joined the fray. “Enough! Both of you! Now eat your
dinner.”

Sullenly, Chloe picked up her fork and silently twirled it
in her spaghetti. Spencer took a dink of milk then muttered, “Jeez… just ‘cause
I mentioned a true thing about butt worms…”

The fork was almost to my daughter’s mouth when she retched.
“Spencer!” I snapped. “One more word about butt worms and you will have all
your LEGOs taken away for a month!” Chloe gagged again.

“Jesus Christ,” Paul growled. It was unlike him to lose his
temper with the kids, but obviously, butt worms were not appropriate dinner
conversation. “Just be quiet and eat your Goddamn dinner!”

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of Paul’s
and Spencer’s forks on their plates. My husband looked up, his eyes meeting
mine across the table. “What?”

“I can’t eat this now.”

“Me neither,” Chloe agreed.

I stood up. “I’ll make us a couple of grilled cheeses.”

The next morning, I drove the kids to school and headed
directly to the Willowbrook mini-mall, home of Boca Developments. Paul was
probably right: it was too soon to go to the police with my suspicions about
Doug and Jackie. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t do some investigating of my
own. I had dressed professionally, in a pair of black slacks and my new blazer.
I planned to meet with Jackie Baldwin under the auspices of business. Then, if
she rubbed
my
shoulders, I’d know her encounter with Doug was entirely
innocent.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, when I
requested Jackie.

“No, but I’m a friend of hers from the neighborhood. …Her
daughter, Katy, babysits my children,” I added. The receptionist showed no
signs of recognition and I realized that Jackie probably didn’t advertise the
fact that she had a teenaged daughter. But she picked up the phone and called
Jackie’s office.

“Hi, Jackie. There’s someone here to see you,” she said,
into the receiver. Then, to me: “What did you say your name was?”

“Paige Atwell. I’m interested in buying a condo… for my
mom.”

Jackie had obviously heard my voice through the receiver, or
possibly, through the thin, partitioned walls, because she appeared moments
after the receptionist hung up.

“Hi Paige,” she said, walking toward me with a broad smile
and her hand extended. “Nice to see you.”

“You, too.” I pasted on a false smile and took her hand.
Jackie was an attractive woman in her early forties, but she had the look of
someone trying too hard to hold onto—or, more appropriately, recapture—her
youth. Her hair was a little too big, her tan was a little too dark, and her
business suit, while expensive, was a little too snug. Although, if I spent as
much time working out as she did, I’d have been tempted to show off the
results, too.

“Katy’s always talking about how great your kids are,” she
said, brightly.

I highly doubted that. “She’s wonderful. They really love
her.”

“So…” Jackie said, getting down to business. “Your mother’s
interested in buying a condo in the area?”

“Yes, yes,” I lied. “She’d like to be closer to me and the
kids.” Nothing could have been further from the truth. Not that my mother had
anything
against
me or my children, but she was living the life she’d
always dreamed of in Scottsdale. She and her second husband, Barry, a retired
dentist, lived on the edge of a golf course and spent every day alternately on
the links or in the pool. It was difficult to get her to visit us in frigid
Denver, let alone move here.

“Let’s go into my office.” I followed her a short distance
down the narrow hallway, until she stopped and ushered me into a tiny room. It
was a typical, generic space with no personal touches—not even a framed photo
of Katy. The desktop and credenza were immaculate and organized. I pulled out
the fabric covered chair and took a seat across from Jackie.

“We’ve got some great smaller units being built right now in
the Cascade Development,” she said, digging for a brochure in the filing
cabinet at her side. “Is your mom alone?”

“No. She’s with her husband.” I paused a moment before
proceeding. “I’d like to know more about the condos that Doug Sutherland is
interested in.”

There was only the slightest hesitation before she answered.
Still fishing in her drawer, she said, “At this stage, Doug isn’t looking at
anything specific. He’s considering downsizing at some point, so he just wants
to know what’s out there.”

“Yes… well… I guess that makes sense,” I said. “Now that
he’s single.”

“Yes,” she agreed, righting herself. “Here’s the brochure
for the Cascade project.” She slid it across the desk. “These units are being
built with people just like your mother in mind. The complex has all the
amenities that age group wants: whirlpool, gym, access to the new golf course
being built at Sun Valley…”

“Great,” I nodded and pretended to look at the brochure.
“So… did Doug call you and tell you he was thinking of moving?”

“Uh… no,” she was obviously taken aback by my bluntness, “I
ran into him at the gym. He mentioned that he was interested in some of the new
developments just south of us.”

“So you two go to the same gym? Do you see him there often?”

“Once in a while,” she said, nervously fishing in her drawer
full of brochures again. “We’re both very busy, so we sometimes work out early
in the morning.”

I noted the use of
we
. She was sounding very
couple-y
,
all of a sudden. “I’m glad he’s exercising. It must help him deal with the
enormous grief he’s experiencing after losing his wife so suddenly… and so
recently
.”

Jackie placed another brochure on the desk, but her eyes
were slightly narrowed when she spoke. “I think Doug seems to be doing quite
well, actually. He’s healing nicely.”

“It’ll take years for him to really get over Karen.”

“Of course. But that doesn’t mean he has to stop living.”

“No, but it doesn’t mean he should be jumping into a
relationship any time soon, either.”

“Well… I’m sure he’ll do what’s right for him.”

“As long as he’s not pressured into something before he’s
ready.”

Jackie looked at her watch. “I’ve got another appointment,”
she said, coldly. “Perhaps you’d like to pass these brochures on to your mother—if
she is, in fact, interested in buying a condo.”

“Of course she is!” I cried. She could not dismiss me until
I’d gained more insight into Jackie and Doug’s relationship! “Mom was just
telling me on the phone how much she misses us and can’t wait to move into her
own place out here.” Pausing, I began to rub my neck. “Man, my shoulders are so
tight.”

“Well,” she smiled falsely, “when your mother gets to town,
why don’t you ask her to come see me?”

“I will. Ooh… my neck is killing me.”

“I’ve got to go, Paige. I’m meeting a client in ten
minutes.”

“Okay,” I said, dejectedly. “Thanks for your time.”

As usual, my sleuthing had revealed nothing concrete. All I
knew for certain was that Jackie was interested in Doug, and that she
definitely did not rub the necks of all her potential clients. But I didn’t
know how intense their relationship was, how long they’d been seeing each
other, or any of the other important questions I had hoped to clarify. I
certainly hadn’t discovered that Doug had brainwashed her into killing his wife
so they could be together. Maybe it was time I admitted to myself that my
detective work sucked?