I locked eyes with Mama Tina. “That doula was you,” I said softly.

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, it was me. It was a tragedy. I think of that baby a lot.”

  I stared at her. “You hinted about that baby’s death to me,” I said, “but you claimed that it happened earlier, and that Samuel had been the NICU doctor responsible for her care. But Samuel’s license had already been suspended. He wasn’t working as a doctor.”

  She shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess I misremembered.”

  Deb eyed her skeptically. “You misremembered a detail that important? After you tripped up the nurse and got the baby killed?”

  “I didn’t get that baby killed!” Mama Tina exploded. “It was an accident because the nurse was careless and didn’t watch where she was going! Docta C used it as an excuse to get rid of the doulas!”

  “Correct,” I said. “Docta C told police that he was going to lobby the hospital administration to get rid of the doulas so that an accident like this wouldn’t happen again. He convinced Renee and Samuel to back his plan to the hospital administrators, didn’t he?”

  Renee looked at the ground. “He told me that the doulas were convincing women to ignore the advice of the doctors. I . . . I had doubts, but he told me I was being stupid.” She burst into tears. “He told me that he was just looking out for the best interests of the patients.”

  Deb looked thoughtful. “But that isn’t what he told Samuel.”

  I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

  “You said three months ago?” Deb leaned back against the wall. “Docta C started sending money to Samuel around then, a few hundred dollars here and there. Totaled up to about two thousand in three months. We dug deep into their text messages, and we believe they’d made an arrangement—Docta C paid Samuel a percentage of the extra money he got from each C-section.”

  I gasped aloud. “So, Samuel testified to the hospital administration for the money.” The last piece clicked into place. “Because he didn’t make nearly as much as a receptionist as he had as a doctor.”

  “Plus he had legal bills from the DUI, no doubt,” McNearny added with a grunt.

  Deb gazed down at Renee. “But we didn’t find anything incriminating in his texts to you, and he didn’t send you any money.”

  “That’s because she’s telling the truth,” said McNearny, a sob choking off the last word. “See, Connolly? I was right to believe in her.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes, leaving my vision misty. “You were,” I said softly.

  They shared a long, tender look, and then he said, “Get my girlfriend out of handcuffs now!”

  The guard uncuffed her, and McNearny ran to her side and engulfed her in an embrace.

  “I’m so sorry for freaking out on you, Pat,” she whispered. “I’ve just been so scared and wound so tightly and—”

  “Shhh.” He kissed her hair. “I know. I know.”

  Bindi turned a suspicious glare on Mama Tina.

  “Renee,” I said, “a week ago, you confronted Dr. Phillips about doing too many C-sections.”

  “Yes,” she replied. She rubbed her wrists where the cuffs had chafed. “I’d realized the numbers didn’t add up, and that he’d tricked me. It wasn’t about the best interests of the patients.”

  I studied her grimly. “Why did you help persuade me to have a C-section?”

  Her jaw dropped. “You . . . the baby was breech! We had to.”

  “I don’t think the baby was really breech,” I said sadly. “Docta C texted Samuel about me.”

  Her nostrils flared. At first, she looked shocked, then rage shone in her eyes. “He promised me he’d be more careful about qualifying patients for C-sections!” she hissed. “He said he’d only do it when there was serious risk. If the hospital started questioning every C-section he gave, it would put patients at risk. It’s more dangerous to withhold a needed C-section than—”

  “He lied,” I said. “Again.”

  Her face crumpled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He said the baby was breech.”

  “Where were you when you confronted Docta C?” I asked.

  She sniffled. “One of the patient rooms, at the end of the hall. Room 150.”

  “At the end of the hall, you say?” I held her gaze. “Isn’t that right near one of the supply closets that the orderlies use?”

  She nodded slowly, then the full implication of my words hit her. She whirled on Mama Tina.

  “You overheard!” she hissed.

  Mama Tina’s jaw tightened.

  “She did overhear.” I clapped my hands once. “And she realized that she—and all the other doulas—had been sacked because of Dr. Phillips’s greed.” Then I took a deep breath, searching for the right words—this next part was going to be conjecture, but I hoped to provoke a confession out of her. “So she set out to figure out how big this conspiracy really was. She knew that Samuel had also testified that the hospital should fire the doulas. It didn’t take her long to find out that he’d done it for financial gain.”

  “They weren’t subtle about it,” spat Mama Tina. “All I had to do was time my break to match Docta C’s and sit near him in the staff lounge. They didn’t outright say it, but after overhearing that conversation with Renee, it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

  “They got you fired, so you decided to kill them,” Deb said flatly.

  I added, “And I bet when forensics analyzes the note to Renee you so helpfully found for us, they’ll find that it was in your handwriting, not Docta C’s.”

  Mama Tina clamped her mouth shut. “I want a lawyer now.”

  “Good.” Deb took a step toward her. “You’re gonna need one.”

  Chapter Twenty~Two

  “You are just too precious,” I cooed to Primus. “You and your brother! And soon you’re going to meet Laurie! Oh, will you all be the very best of friends? I know you will be!”

  A NICU doctor finished examining Secundus and turned to me with a pleased smile. “I think they’re both ready to go home! Let me get their discharge paperwork ready . . . has Dr. Hobbs discharged you yet?”

  I grinned back at her. “My discharge paperwork is in progress.”

  Just as she left, a knock sounded at the door, and Rachelle walked in, carrying Laurie in her arms.

  “Little duck!” I cried. “Mama is so happy to see you! Come meet your little brother!”

  Rachelle brought Laurie over to sit next to me, and Laurie reached out to touch Primus’s cheek, her little eyes wide with delight.

  “Brother,” I said, pointing at Primus. Then I pointed at Laurie. “Sister.”

  “Bada!” Laurie cried. “Bada!”

  “That’s right! Brother!” I raised Primus’s little fist in a victory pump. I looked up at Rachelle. “You can pick up the other baby. The doctor just unhooked him from all the tubes and wires.”

  Laurie leaned over to give Primus a hug, and I thought my heart might burst.

  Rachelle picked up Secundus and kissed his tiny cheek.

  It didn’t take long for Laurie to get bored and start running around the room, and I closed my eyes and let the tension leave my shoulders.

  I solved the case. And now all my children are together, and I get to take them home soon.

  Jim entered the room, holding a fast food bag out toward me. My stomach rumbled. “Thank you!” I cried, reaching for it. “Finally something that’s not hospital food.”

  The burger and fries tasted absolutely heavenly. “Can you die of a food coma?” I asked when I finished.

  A nurse—not Bindi, she’d understandably taken the rest of the week off—came in with the discharge paperwork for both me and the babies.

  “Let’s just get this filled out,” she said. “What are the boys’ names?”

  Jim and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “We . . . haven’t decided yet.”

  “Well, you’re not the first. We can just leave this blank for now.”

  As she continued finalizing the paperwork, Laurie ran up to me and grabbed my leg, and Jim took Secundus from Rachelle’s arms.

  “You did it, honey,” he said.

  “We did it. Together,” I replied. “This case, this family, all of it.”

  He sat next to me and kissed my forehead. “I’d go on any adventure with you.”

  I leaned up against him and rested my head on his shoulder, relishing the sensation of his warmth against mine. “And you’re the only person I’d ever want to adventure alongside.”

  “Together,” he declared. “Now and always.”

  I marveled at the miracle of my little family, joy suffusing every cell in my body. “Now and always.”

  Thank you for reading DOUBLE TROUBLE! I hope you love Kate and her family as much as I do. If you can’t wait to read more MATERNAL INSTINCTS MYSTERIES, then keep in touch and let me know! www.dianaorgain.com

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  One-click the next Maternal Instincts Mystery – MURDER COMES CRAWLING here!

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  If you loved my MATERNAL INSTINCTS MYSTERIES, you'll love the fast-paced fun of A FIRST DATE WITH DEATH. Some are in it for love . . . others for the cash. Georgia just wants to stay alive . . .

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  Preview of Dying For Gold

  Chapter 1

  “I think your store is haunted,” Mrs. Jeffries, one of our best customers, screeched.

  “It’s not haunted,” I said.

  “Well, the nugget I was just looking at disappeared out from under my nose! How do you explain that?” she demanded.

  “Wendy,” I offered as way of explanation, pulling the diamond-encrusted gold nugget out of my sister-in-law’s hands and passing it to Mrs. Jeffries.

  Wendy simply batted her false eyelashes and gave a wicked grin. “I couldn’t resist. Isn’t it the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen?”

  The store in question was The Nugget. Daddy’s family had been part of the original gold rush of 1849. Our family went way back, especially by California standards. I was the fifth generation of a mining family, and The Nugget had kept our family in gold even when our mine, The Bear Strike, had been forced to close in 1942 to support the war effort.

  I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Daddy happier than when the price of gold shot up a few years back and it would finally be profitable to reopen the mine.

  Ordinarily, The Nugget catered to tourists, but I’d convinced Daddy to use the shop as a backdrop to put my best friend, Ginger’s, exquisite jewelry designs on display, and all our best customers and neighbors had come out for the occasion.

  Dad came around from behind the counter. “Cut the champagne off,” he said under his breath.

  I laughed. “Daddy! This is a ladies’ gathering. One of the main draws beside Ginger’s designs is the champagne.”

  He leaned into me. “Key word being ladies. Do you see how they’re acting?”

  I couldn’t deny that there was a lot of shrieking going on and that the general timbre in the room was reaching an ear-shattering pitch. “You’re just mad that they’re so excited about Ginger’s design and not your gold,” I teased.

  Dad’s idea of jewelry was literally a nugget hanging off a chain, and the chain, of course, must be gold. There was nothing more appealing to him. The rougher the nugget, the more gorgeous Dad thought it was. I had to admit that our regular clientele of tourists seemed to agree.

  They loved buying a “gen-u-ine” gold nugget that had been mined from California’s oldest and still active mines.

  Ginger came out of the back room cradling a sapphire necklace she’d taken to fix that’d been broken a moment earlier when two customers yanked it out of each other’s hands. The pendant of the necklace was designed as a huge calla lily with delicate gold leaves and a brilliant-cut sapphire as the blossom. The necklace was almost as beautiful as Ginger herself.

  She had honey-ginger colored hair and wore a form-fitting dress that hugged every generous curve. The dress was indigo, and knowing Ginger, it was no coincidence that it perfectly matched both her eyes and the expensive sapphire she now held in her hand.

  She stood between the customers, Mrs. DeLeon and Mrs. Harvey, nervously glancing at me. “Uh, Frannie? Can you—”

  “It’s for me,” Mrs. DeLeon said, grabbing at her pocketbook.

  “No. You. Don’t!” Mrs. Harvey howled. “That piece is for me. Wendy and I have been talking about it for ages!”

  All heads turned toward my sister-in-law, Wendy, who dutifully wrinkled her button nose, then admitted, “I did tell her I thought there was a special piece she would like.” Wendy avoided Mrs. Harvey’s wrath by taking great interest in the passing waiter. “Oooh! Is that pâté?”

  We’d hired an upscale catering service, Bites & Bread, for the event, and judging by the trays being offered to our customers, I could already hear Dad complain about the bill that was sure to be anything but bite-size.

  However, he hadn’t really had a choice. The competitor caterer was Golden Grub, run by mother and after their horrible divorce, Dad would rather stick himself in the eye with hot pokers than give my mother any business. Plus, he’d said over and over that Mom was just waiting for her moment to poison him…given their animosity I couldn’t blame him.

  The waiter, who was about all of eighteen, held the tray out for Wendy as Mrs. Harvey took a great inhale, then puffed out her cheeks. She let the air out slowly, breathing all over the canapé tray.

  “I’m going to have to speak to Mr. Peterson! George!” she wailed.

  Dad appeared with a smile on his face. He was ever the charmer, but I could tell by the fine lines around his eyes that he was tired. One more complaint from the wealthy, pampered socialites this party had attracted and he might blow a gasket.

  “Mrs. Harvey. Whatever is the matter? More champagne?” he offered.

  I bit back my laugh.

  So much for cutting off the champagne!

  “George. Will you please inform Mrs. DeLeon that the sapphire necklace is for me?”

  Dad grabbed the arm of another waiter, this one a redhead who worked regularly at the Bites & Bread Bakery, and pulled a bottle of champagne out of her hand. He topped off Mrs. Harvey’s glass. “Sapphire?” He frowned. “Mrs. Harvey. You and I must have a talk.” He glanced around, all the ladies suddenly craning their necks to get an earful. “In private,” he mumbled, leading her toward the glass case that held our most expensive gold jewelry.

  Dad handed me the champagne bottle, then took Mrs. Harvey’s elbow, leading her to the back of the store as he chatted with her, tilting his head close to hers so his mouth was near her ear. She suddenly erupted into a fit of giggles, then whacked my father on his shoulder. I noticed her hand lingered on his arm, giving him the occasional squeeze.

  Didn’t she realize she was the one being squeezed?

  Mrs. DeLeon said, “Quick, Frannie. Ring me up for the sapphire necklace so I can get out of here and away from Mrs. Harvey.”

  I topped off Mrs. DeLeon’s flute. “I think she’ll change her mind altogether about the necklace. Don’t worry.”

  Mrs. DeLeon handed me her platinum American Express. “I’m not taking any chances.”

  I took the card and nodded. “It is a beautiful piece. I’m sure you’ll be very happy with it.”

  Ginger beamed as I rang up the necklace. “I can’t believe this is happening. Everyone loves my stuff.”

  “I knew they would. It’s beautiful,” I said.

  Wendy slipped up next to us. “Totally unique,” she agreed. “I’m so glad I convinced George to have the party. What a great idea I had!”

  Ginger and I exchanged a look. Actually, the idea of hosting an exclusive sale of Ginger’s handcrafted designer jewelry had been mine, but we both knew Wendy would take credit wherever she could get it.

  I rang up Mrs. DeLeon and placed the beautiful sapphire necklace into a black velvet gift box.

  Wendy and Ginger circulated around the crowd, and Dad popped open another champagne bottle while chatting with Mrs. Harvey.

  As I finished helping Mrs. DeLeon, she leaned in and grabbed my hand. “When are we going to see a ring on this finger, Frannie?”

  I flushed. For some reason, I hated being the center of attention. I’d much rather people notice the sparkling gold nuggets beneath the glass counter than my hand above it.

  “It’s getting to be about that time, isn’t it, dear?” Mrs. DeLeon asked.

  I slipped my hand out of her grasp and feigned a smile. Even though I was hoping for a proposal soon, I wasn’t about to share the details of my private life. “When he’s ready, I’ll be ready,” I said.