CHAPTER FIVE

Disconnect

On my way out of the church, I noticed Inspector McNearny and Inspector Jones hovering around the back.
Homicide cops.
I had met both of them while working on my first case a few weeks ago. In fact, McNearny was a good friend of Galigani’s and through that friendship our tenuous meeting had turned a bit more friendly.
McNearny raised a hand to me and gave me a “not now” look.
Okay, maybe we weren’t that friendly.
He and Jones seemed to be trying to blend in with the crowd. They had positioned themselves near the exit and were pretending to be absorbed with the items posted on the church bulletin board.
Good Lord, didn’t they know that even plainclothes cops still looked like cops?
McNearny’s brown sport coat and no-nonsense shoes looked worn and at odds with this more affluent crowd. Jones’s blue suit was more compatible with the crowd, but his austere crew cut gave him that military look many San Francisco cops sport. Not to mention that both of them were as stiff and stilted as wooden chess pieces.
At least Jones smiled at me when I passed him.
What are they doing here? And why try to look undercover?
I noticed Celia, the midwife, watching me watching the cops. When we made eye contact, hers flicked over to McNearny. McNearny couldn’t even muster a rigid smile; instead he coughed into his hand, which caught Jones’s attention. They exited the church.
I glanced back at Celia. She shrugged then handed a card with directions to a pallbearer.
I left the church and crossed the Washington Square Park toward Columbus Street, where I had parked. It was blustery in the park and the trees swayed. I wrapped my scarf over my mouth and nose so as not to breathe in the cold air. As I approached Union Street, I saw McNearny and Jones go into Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store Café.
Oh! Mario’s meatball sandwich and eggplant focaccia panini!
My mouth watered. I glanced at my watch.
Did I have time to stop in and grab a bite?
But then I’d have to talk to McNearny. Eating something grilled was completely different from being grilled.
While that meatball sandwich might well be worth it—I needed to hurry to my car in order to get into the line for the funeral procession.
I guessed McNearny and Jones weren’t going to the reception.
Some investigation they were running. Why had they come to the funeral?
I passed the Bohemian shop, and thankfully, because my face was covered by my scarf, neither McNearny nor Jones noticed me rush past.
Once in my car, I dialed Jim from my cell phone.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Me? Great! Are you on your way home?”
“No. I’m going to the cemetery. How is Laurie?”
“She’s asleep in her bouncy chair.”
Hmmm. Why was babysitting so easy for him?
“Have you fed her?”
“She’s been asleep the entire time.”
I recalled the lint I’d found between her fingers the other day. “When she wakes up, give her a bath and then feed her. I left some milk for her in the fridge.”
“A bath?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean, in our tub?”
“No, come on. In her little baby tub. You know how to set up it, right? You need to snap in that green meshy net thing to hold her.”
Silence. Followed by a low “hmmm.”
Visions of him bathing Laurie flashed through my mind. I saw him either scalding her or getting distracted and leaving her alone in the tub, or not putting the net thing in right so she slipped under the water, or getting soap in her eyes, or—
“Never mind. I’ll give her a bath when I get home.”
“Okay,” Jim said cheerfully.
No wonder babysitting was so easy for him.