“Well, I also got her an ice cream, and she drooled chocolate all over it,” Mom said. “But the dry cleaner assured me that the dress will be as good as new by the time we get it back!”

  “I hope not,” I muttered.

  “Hmm?” Mom warbled, her tone still perfectly self-satisfied.

  “Nothing! Well . . .” I searched for some suitable response, sharing a long look with Galigani.

  He shrugged helplessly and said, “I wasn’t on the girls’ day. She brought Laurie home and told me about all the . . . fun things they did.”

  In other words, don’t blame me!

  I let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Well, this is a lot of surprises! And it is so good to see my little duck!”

  After a pause, Galigani said, “Vera told me there was a murder here last night.”

  I kissed the top of Laurie’s head and sighed. “Yes, the receptionist was killed while I was in labor, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re not on the case, are you?” Mom crossed her arms. “In your condition?”

  My nose twitched. “I wouldn’t say I’m on the case, exactly. My friend Deb Fisher is leading the investigation, and I haven’t told anyone that I’m a private investigator, for my own safety.”

  “Good call,” Galigani replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t want that information getting out. Especially if the murderer is a hospital employee.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” I snuggled Laurie closer. “I’m just asking people a few questions here and there, gathering information, reporting back to Deb.”

  Mom threw her arms in the air. “You call that not being on the case?”

  “Well, no one’s hired me,” I said, knowing how weak my protests sounded. “And I’m not exactly conducting a full-on investigation and formally interviewing people. I’m just trying to see if I can uncover any leads. I promise I’ll let Deb handle the rest.”

  “Hmm,” said Galigani. “Who was the victim? I’ll run him through the PI database and see if I can come up with anything useful.”

  “His name was Samuel Hall,” I said. I quickly gave them the rundown of everything I’d heard about Samuel—though I left off the suspicious conversation I’d overheard between Nurse Bindi and Docta C. I didn’t want to worry my mom about the babies’ safety.

  “Your nurse is his ex?” Mom screeched. “You need a new nurse! Why is she even still working here?”

  Galigani patted her shoulder. “There, there, Vera. Sounds like this Samuel guy made a lot of enemies. No reason to think that this particular ex is the top suspect.”

  “But,” I said slowly, “you might want to look into her, too. She’s behaving a little suspiciously, and I do have some questions about her.”

  “Right-o.” Galigani nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

  Just then, Mama Tina pushed a wheelchair into the room. “Why, hello again!” she chirped.

  I smiled at her, but worry churned in my gut. Had she overheard any of our conversation? If so, was she close to Nurse Renee? Would she tell anyone that I was a private investigator?

  But if Mama Tina had heard us talking, she gave no indication of it.

  “Ready to see those babies again?” she asked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After I returned from my visit to the NICU, I got a phone call from Galigani.

  “Hey kid,” he said. “Found some weird stuff on that Samuel Hall guy.”

  “Oh?” I sat up a little straighter and rubbed my eyes. “What kind of weird stuff?”

  “He got demoted like four months ago, right?”

  “Right . . .”

  “Get this—he still rents a really ritzy apartment downtown, and he just renewed the lease on it last week!”

  I tilted my head. “How could he afford that?”

  “My thoughts exactly. And I’ve found his social media accounts—seems like he partied a lot at expensive nightclubs.”

  “Maybe he’d saved a lot of money? Or had a trust fund or something.”

  “Could be,” Galigani mused, “but does he sound like the kind of guy who stockpiles his money carefully?”

  “Did you find out anything about Renee?”

  “She was arrested once for a domestic dispute—sounds like she threw a knife at her roommate, but no charges were ever filed.”

  I gasped aloud. “And Samuel was stabbed!”

  “That’s an awfully big coincidence. Sure makes that nurse seem more suspicious.”

  There was a knock on my doorframe, and I looked up to see Paula standing there.

  “Hey, Galigani,” I said, “I’ve got to go—Paula’s here. But thanks for the update. Keep me posted if you come across anything else.” I hung up the phone and grinned at Paula. “Well, hello there! It’s good to see your face!”

  “I’m so sorry you had to have that C-section!” exclaimed Paula. “And now the babies are stuck in the NICU!”

  “It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Did you hear there was a murder?”

  She gasped aloud. “No! Here? At the hospital? Is that why you were talking to Galigani?”

  “Close the door, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Paula shut the door behind her, and I spilled the whole story to her. When I described what Galigani had learned, she looked genuinely frightened.

  “Kate! If you think your nurse is a killer, you’ve got to tell Deb. You can’t stay here with a killer taking care of you!”

  “It’s fine, Paula. The nurse doesn’t have any reason to think I’m suspicious of her. And I’m going to tell Deb everything, I promise. I’ve only just gotten off the phone with Galigani.”

  Paula crossed her arms. “You text Deb right now. I don’t trust you not to lone-ranger this, even when you’re in the hospital.”

  “Fiiiiiiine,” I chuckled as I typed out a text to Deb. “That’s probably fair. I’ve earned those suspicions.”

  When I’d sent Deb the update, I looked up to see Paula smelling the roses.

  “Oh, these are just lovely!” she exclaimed. “Jim is so sweet.”

  “They’re not from Jim,” I said with a smirk.

  “Oh?” She arched an elegant eyebrow. “You have a secret admirer, then? Why would anyone else send red roses?”

  I laughed out loud. “I certainly hope he’s not an admirer. McNearny brought the flowers to me this afternoon.”

  Paula’s jaw dropped. “McNearny brought you these flowers?”

  I nodded.

  She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, studying me skeptically. “McNearny brought you red roses?”

  Cracking my neck, I said, “He doesn’t mean anything by it. It seemed like a sweet gesture, if a little weird.”

  Paula whirled back around and studied the flowers. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “There’s a note in here!”

  “What?” I wrinkled my nose. “Why would he include a note? He brought the flowers in person.”

  Paula snatched a slip of paper from the depths of the roses and held it aloft. Then she read it quietly to herself . . . and shrieked out loud.

  “What?” I demanded, my mind racing. “What does it say?”

  My best friend stared at me, her lips pursed. “Well, either McNearny is in love with you—”

  I burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly when I realized she was serious.

  “—or,” she continued, “these flowers weren’t meant for you.”

  Had he bought the roses for a girlfriend? Two or three months ago, McNearny had said he was seeing someone, but I’d never learned who his girlfriend was.

  I stared at the flowers. They were red roses. Maybe McNearny wasn’t so clueless after all.

  But wouldn’t that mean his girlfriend worked here at the hospital? Had I accidentally intercepted him when he was bringing her flowers?

  Because if there were two things I was absolutely certain of in this life, it was this: I would die for any of my children, and Sergeant Patrick McNearny wasn’t in love with me.

  “What does the note say?” I demanded.

  Paula took a deep breath and read aloud. “My dearest, I’m so sorry you’re having such a dreadful day. Remember that I’m always here for you. Love, Pat.”

  I stared at Paula.

  She stared back at me.

  I stared back at her.

  “Well,” I said after a long silence, “those flowers certainly weren’t meant for me.”

  “Why would he have given them to you, then?” She crossed her arms.

  The realization hit me. “Because he panicked,” I said slowly. “He didn’t expect to run into me, and he didn’t want to tell me that his girlfriend works here at the hospital.”

  She crossed over to the chair at my bedside. “But why would he hide that? He’s been divorced since before you even met him. Had he told you he wasn’t seeing anyone?”

  “No, he’d mentioned a girlfriend to me offhandedly . . .”

  She sat down and rested her chin on her hands. “This doesn’t make any sense at all!”

  One piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

  “I think it does!” I snatched my small notepad out of my purse and began scribbling notes to organize my thoughts. “He also said he was letting Deb take the lead on this investigation!”

  She wrinkled her nose. “He is? Last time I went out with Deb, she was complaining that he always babysat the detectives and wasn’t letting her handle cases.”

  I snapped my fingers. “So, there’s a reason he’s suddenly giving up control to Deb.”

  “A conflict of interest!” She sucked in a sharp gasp. “He knows he’s too close to this case.”

  “So, who’s the woman?” I murmured. “She must work in the maternity ward, or I wouldn’t have run into him.”

  A new suspicion itched at the corner of my mind. What if . . . ?

  “Could it be my nurse?” I asked. “Renee? She said she has a boyfriend, and . . . she left to call her boyfriend right after the murder!”

  Paula’s eyes popped wide. “No! It couldn’t be . . . could it?”

  I set my pen down. “I’m probably letting my imagination run away with me, but . . .”

  “Well . . . what are you going to do about that? Should you tell Deb?”

  My lips twitched. “What am I supposed to tell her? That he can’t be objective? I’ve solved a lot of cases where people told me I couldn’t be objective.”

  Paula winced—I’d struck close to home. Not too long ago, Paula herself had been a murder suspect. I’d cleared her and put the real killer behind bars.

  “That’s fair,” she said, her voice quavering a little. “But . . . what if his girlfriend really is a killer, and he just doesn’t know it?”

  “Hmm.” My eyes lit up. “I have an idea!”

  I pulled my phone back out and typed out a text message to McNearny: Are you dating Renee??

  Before I hit send, I showed it to Paula.

  “What are you doing?” she exclaimed. “You don’t want him to know that we know!”

  “But we don’t know yet,” I pointed out. “We just know that his girlfriend works here. If our suspicions are correct, I bet we’ll get a visit from McNearny himself in the next hour or two.”

  Slowly and painfully, I pushed myself to a standing position.

  “Where are you going? Shouldn’t you be resting?” Paula asked.

  I grinned at her. “I’ve been resting. Help me walk the halls for a little while. My mind is spinning on the case, and I want to see if we can glean any more information before McNearny gets here.”

  Paula and I walked up and down the halls for about five minutes. I tried to pull another nurse into conversation, but she apologized and said she didn’t have time for chitchat—she had too many patients to check on. She looked . . . frightened.

  That’s odd.

  But maybe I was imagining her fear. She was probably just harried and overworked. Weren’t hospitals chronically short-staffed?

  “That’s the problem with solving a murder in a hospital,” I groused to Paula under my breath. “Everyone’s too busy to cajole for information. If only I had a badge.”

  “Just tell Deb what you’re thinking and let her finish the investigation,” she whispered. “She has a badge!”

  “I am telling Deb what I’m thinking,” I retorted. “I’m just . . . trying to find out more.”

  Just then, Mama Tina pushed an empty wheelchair around the corner.

  “Well, hello there, Miss Kate,” she said cheerily. “It’s good to see you up and around again. How are you feeling?”

  Mama Tina! Now there was someone I could try to get information out of.

  “Connolly!” barked a stern voice.

  I turned, surprised to see McNearny striding down the hall. Already?

  “That was fast,” Paula whispered.

  “Too fast,” I replied.

  “I’m sorry, I think I have to go speak with this gentleman,” I said to Mama Tina. “But I’d love to talk to you later.”

  “I’m just going to take this wheelchair down to a patient,” she said sweetly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  She wheeled away, and McNearny ground to a halt in front of me.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said tersely. “In private.”

  I glanced at Paula, then back at McNearny.

  He rolled his eyes. “She can come, I guess. I don’t care. But we need to be away from any . . . listening ears.”

  “We can go back to my room,” I said. “It’s just three doors down.”

  Paula linked arms with me, and I hobbled behind McNearny, whose steps seemed animated with frenetic energy.

  Three more officers appeared at the end of the hall, and Paula and I shared a long look.

  We entered my room, and McNearny slammed the door behind us.

  “You’re a darn good PI, Connolly,” he began. “And it doesn’t even pain me to say it anymore. I need your help.”

  “Was I right?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “Of course you were.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I never should have given you those stupid flowers with that note inside them. Yes! I’m seeing Renee!”

  I chewed my lip. “How old is she?”

  “We have a little bit of an age gap, but she doesn’t care about that. She asked me out—I wasn’t out chasing younger women.” He threw his arms out. “And we have a problem.”

  “What problem is that?” That you suspect your much-younger girlfriend is a killer?

  He paced the room once, twice, three times, then stopped abruptly and pivoted toward me. “There’s been another murder.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Another murder?

  Paula squeaked in fright.

  I studied McNearny, taking in the raw fear in his eyes, the coiled energy in his muscles. He was a complete wreck.

  “Sit down,” I said gently. “Tell me what happened.”

  We sat across from each other, him on the chair and me on the hospital bed. Paula hovered near the door.

  “We just got a call,” he said through gritted teeth. “A doctor was killed. Stabbed just like Samuel Hall.”

  I tried to corral my racing thoughts. The stupid pain medication was making me feel dull and sluggish. “An OBGYN? Who?”

  “Cory Phillips.”

  I clapped a hand over my mouth to dull my involuntary shriek. “Docta C’s dead?” I hissed.

  “Oh!” He sat up, as if startled. “He was your doctor?”

  “Uh . . . I . . . temporarily, I guess,” I stammered. “My regular OBGYN is on her way back from Rome. Dr. Phillips delivered the twins.”

  McNearny clenched his hands and leaned forward, staring straight down at the floor. “I’m sorry. Yes, he’s been murdered. Here at the hospital.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not good.”

  I hadn’t liked the man as a person or a doctor, but I was sorry he was dead.

  That argument with Nurse Bindi replayed in my mind.

  She hated both Samuel and Docta C. Looks like we have a new prime suspect.

  “And this brings me to my problem,” McNearny continued. “Renee . . . used to be engaged to Samuel Hall, and she had a history with Cory Phillips as well.”

  My gaze snapped to him. Renee had a what?

  Maybe Bindi wasn’t the top suspect after all.

  “What kind of history?” I asked slowly. “They dated?”

  “They weren’t a couple or anything.” He hissed through his teeth. “They went on a few dates. Then Dr. Phillips told her that he wanted to continue to see her, but he wanted the freedom to see other people as well. Renee told him that was selfish, and they were on bad terms for a while. This was before she even started dating Samuel.”

  “I see.”

  He continued, his voice anguished. “I know what it looks like. Two men dead at the hospital she works at, while she was on duty. Stabbed so that they’d bleed out quickly—which means the killer either did their research or had some medical knowledge. And she had histories with both of them.”

  I rested my hands on the bed and leaned back. “You’re right—that doesn’t look great.”

  “But I know she didn’t do it.”

  “How?”

  He jerked upward and met my gaze. “Because I know her. And I know murder cases. She’s a flawed human being, but she’s not a killer.”

  I bit my lip.

  “Connolly.” He folded his hands in his lap. “We’ve been here before, but it was you assuring me that you knew someone wasn’t a killer.” He nodded at Paula. “She was one of them.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “And I couldn’t take your word for it at the time, so I don’t expect you to take mine. But I need your help. I need your powers of observation, your skill at putting information together. If you follow the evidence to its conclusion, I know you’re going to figure out that it wasn’t Renee.”

  My forehead creased. “Are you trying to hire me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you trying to hire me, as a private citizen, or is the department trying to hire me?”

  He winced at the question. “I . . . don’t know. When you phrase it like that, it sounds like an ethics investigation waiting to happen, doesn’t it? If I hire you as a private citizen, then I really have to recuse myself from the case, not just from being the lead investigator. If I hire you through the department . . . well, I obviously can’t do that in this situation.”