Too Big to Die

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “I doubt it if he’s in as bad of shape as you say. And I’m sure the medical staff at that home would have noticed any erections over the years refuting the diagnosis. After all,” Greg said with a sly wink in my direction, “sometimes we guys have no control over our junk’s response.”

  We were halfway through dinner when I brought the subject up again. “A lot of our friends in chairs have kids. Were all of them conceived naturally?”

  Greg nearly choked on the pizza he was about to swallow. “Gee, I don’t know, Odelia. Should I take a poll at the next basketball game?”

  “Smart ass. I just thought maybe you guys talked amongst yourselves—you know, like us women.”

  He took a drink of beer while he considered the question. “I do happen to know of guys who cannot conceive through regular means because of their injuries, so it is done via artificial insemination. That’s probably how we would have done it if we’d wanted children, even though I can get an erection.”

  I nodded. “So do you think Jane would have done something like that?”

  Greg put down his beer and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No, I don’t. First of all, taking a sample like that would have taken time and a plan for proper storage, not to mention impregnating herself. I would think the odds are against it being successful.” He paused. “I think Jane got pregnant by someone else and for some reason put down Jordon’s name on the birth certificate.”

  We were both quiet, but our eyes met. I was the first to say what was obviously on both of our minds. “So you could still be Holly’s father.”

  “It’s a possibility. Maybe Jane just wanted a child to raise by herself, like in the book, without any paternal strings.”

  Greg picked up another piece of ham and pineapple pizza. “All this has brought back a lot of memories,” he said. “I met Jane during her sophomore year. It was at a mixer. That summer she got some fancy internship at a big company.” He put the pizza slice down on his plate without taking a bite. “She was quite excited about it. She still had the position when she returned to school that fall and was even more excited by it, though it didn’t leave her much time for anything besides school. I only saw her on occasion, but I do remember that several months before she left school, she seemed different, distracted, and I hardly saw her. I assumed she had a regular boyfriend. She eventually told me that she’d quit the internship and was working at a rest home.”

  “That’s quite a big change. Did she say why?” I asked.

  Greg looked off, past the table, as he remembered. “She said the job with the corporation had become boring, and she wanted more hands-on experience with real people.” He picked up the slice again. “A few months later, she was gone.”

  “Celeste described Jane as kind of distant emotionally but nice,” I told him. I pushed my plate away.

  “Yeah, I would agree with that. She didn’t share much with me, even though we saw each other off and on for almost two years. You’d think we’d get to know each other in all that time, but all I knew was that she was from South Korea and had been adopted by a couple in the Midwest when she was a baby.” He took a bite and chewed before continuing. “The sad thing is, she was orphaned twice. Once in South Korea as a baby and then again here the summer before college.”

  My hand instinctively when to my heart in empathy. “How tragic.”

  “Yes. Her adoptive parents were killed by a drunk driver—at least that’s what she told me. She had no other family.” He took another drink of his beer. “Sometimes I think she chose me to be her part-time lover because she sensed I was a safe place. We liked each other but weren’t in love. I was lonely. She was lonely. Neither wanted an attachment at the time or made demands; it worked. And it wasn’t wham, bam, thank you, sir. We’d talk about movies, books, or school. Sometimes she’d cook me a meal at her apartment. But when it came to her private thoughts, she was very guarded. She was also very smart. When you looked into her eyes, you could see the gears moving. She wasn’t exactly manipulative; she was nicer than that. But I got the feeling she played chess with her life in her head. Making moves and planning the next. She didn’t have a lot of friends, just friendly acquaintances.”

  “Celeste at Bayview said Jordon’s injury was due to drunk driving, but I don’t recall her saying if he was at fault or someone else.” I started picking at the label on my beer bottle. “You don’t think that’s a connection, do you?”

  He shrugged as he polished off his pizza in several big bites.

  “Well, tomorrow I hope to meet up with Holly,” I told him as I picked the label clean off my bottle.

  “You mean stalk her?” he asked.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I shot Greg a half-curled lip in jest. “Since the mailbox guy said she shows up around their closing time, I thought I’d hang out there starting around five.”

  “And what if she comes later?” Greg asked.

  “Then I wait. He said she always picks up her mail on Wednesday evenings, even if it is later.”

  “If I didn’t have a big job to finish tomorrow, I’d take off early and go with you,” he said.

  “That’s okay. Zee wants to tag along again.” I smiled. “She’s very good at this and very good with people.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Greg closed the pizza box. Putting it on his lap, he ferried it over to the kitchen counter, got out some plastic wrap, and started wrapping the leftover pizza. “Since you’ll be late, I can heat this up for dinner tomorrow. I might be late getting home myself.”

  I carried over the salad bowl and prepped it for the fridge. “Good idea,” I told him. “I sort of promised Zee that she and I would go out to dinner after our stakeout. Seth is out of town tomorrow night. He has to fly to Sacramento tomorrow morning.”

  Greg winked at me. “You girls just stay out of trouble and keep me posted.”

  sixteen

  There really wasn’t much to do the next day until Zee and I left to stake out the mailbox place in Long Beach, so I drove myself nuts trying to figure out how all the players fit together—or even if they fit together at all. The more likely possibility was that the person who killed Burt had no connection to the dog’s rescue or to Holly’s birth puzzle. And there was also the possibility that Burt’s murder had absolutely nothing to do with either, but I didn’t have enough information on Burt to link him to a personal issue that would have gotten him killed.

  They all seemed like entirely different things, so I set out with several packs of colorful sticky notes that I found in our home office to try to make some sense of it. I cleared off our kitchen table, intent on using it as a large bulletin board. Using the neon pink sticky notes, I wrote Holly West on one and stuck it on the table to the far left at the top. I used a bright yellow sticky note for Burt’s murder, wrote his name at the top, and stuck it at the top of the table in the middle. On lime green notes I wrote Marla Kingston and placed that note at the top and to the right of Burt’s name. Those were my columns. I left a small corner of the table open for us to use for meals.

  Next, I took a blue note and on it drew one long horizontal line in the middle with two arrowheads. At the top I wrote dog, signifying Saturday’s dog rescue. I stuck that note between Holly and Burt’s columns to show that they were both at that event. I did the same to another blue note and stuck it between the columns for Burt and Marla, showing they were also there and that it was a common denominator for all of them. I took another blue note and drew another two-way arrow. At the top of this I wrote OB for Ocean Breeze and positioned it between Burt and Holly, then another blue one but with home remodel at the top and placed it between Burt and Marla. Then I took more pink notes and wrote Greg, Jane, and Jordon at the top of each one separately, and stuck those to the table under Holly’s name. Under Burt’s another yellow note was pressed into service with a heading of who killed him? Finally, I took a pink note and on i
t noted Greg—Burt—Kingston all on videos, then filed that under Holly’s column. Turning to Marla’s column, I stuck a green note there with a heading of who was she waiting for?

  I wasn’t any closer to an answer, but I now had them sorted out, which helped me sort them in my mind. Standing, I looked down at the table, instead of across it, and took it in as a whole. What they all had in common was being in the grocery store parking lot on Saturday and being filmed by Holly for her YouTube channel.

  I got up and paced the kitchen. Without more information I was stymied, so I went and took a shower. I was halfway through shampooing when an idea occurred to me. Quickly finishing up, I wrapped a towel around my dripping body and went in search of my laptop. I found it on the coffee table in the living room and quickly turned it on. What I wanted to see again was Jordon West’s Marigold report. Before, all I’d wanted to know was his whereabouts. Now I wanted to read whatever was there about his family.

  According to the report, his father was deceased and had been for quite a while. Doing the math, I came to the conclusion that his father had passed away when he was a very young teen, possibly just a few years before his accident. His mother’s name was Doris West Hoffman. Hoffman. She’d probably remarried at some point. I ran a request for a Marigold report on Doris West Hoffman and went back into the bathroom to dry off and do my hair and makeup, hoping there would be a quick turnaround on the report.

  When I was done dressing the report still wasn’t in, so I busied myself straightening up the house. Jill from the office called to ask me how I was doing. She’d heard nothing about my status but did report that Steele was crankier than usual. She also told me that when clients called for me, they were being told I was out of the office for a couple of weeks on vacation. That made me cranky. Jill was checking my office email for anything of importance and had a couple of questions on some client matters. I had been checking my firm email too, happy to see they hadn’t taken away my connection to the office server. I gave Jill directions on how to handle the couple of minor things that had cropped up.

  Greg called to see how I was doing and told me to let him know immediately if I made contact with Holly West. During his call the Marigold report came in. I assured Greg he’d be the first person I’d call after we contacted Holly. I love my man, but I was really eager to get to the report and was half reading it while on the call with him. He was talking about something we had planned for the upcoming weekend when I cut him off.

  “Greg, something’s come up,” I told him.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I assured him, “but I ran a report on Jordon’s mother this morning, and it just came in.”

  “Anything jump out at you?” he asked with interest.

  “Oh yeah,” I said as I read the report. “Celeste told us yesterday that Jordon’s mother had moved out of state shortly after his accident and had never been to visit him since. According to this report, she did move out of California back then, but she moved back to California four years after that. She’s been living in Aliso Viejo all this time.”

  “And hasn’t been to visit her son?” Greg asked, his tone incredulous.

  “Not according to the manager at Bayview, who I don’t think has any reason to lie to us.”

  It was quiet on the other end of the line, then Greg asked, “You’re going to Aliso Viejo today, aren’t you?”

  “Damn Skippy I am! Wouldn’t you?”

  “Just be careful, sweetheart. Do you have a phone number for her? Maybe you should call her first.”

  “No way,” I said, half of my brain plotting my visit south. “I’m betting this woman is hiding something to be pulling this nonsense. I think a sneak attack would be best.” Actually, I wanted to face down a woman who had abandoned such a sweet son just because of injuries. Renee Stevens sure hadn’t, and because of her, Greg had turned out to be a wonderful man with a great life after his accident.

  “Then make sure you take Zee with you, at least,” he said. “And send me the report so I’ll know where you’re heading.”

  After emailing the report to Greg, I called Zee. There was no answer at her home, so I called her cell. She picked up on the third ring. “I need to go to Aliso Viejo,” I told her quickly. “It turns out Jordon’s mother has been living there for many years.”

  “So she didn’t move out of state?” she asked, her voice low.

  “No, she did,” I reported, “but she moved back shortly after.” I glanced at the clock on the microwave, judging my time, calculating the drive down and back. There would be plenty of time to make it back to Long Beach to stake out the mailbox place if I left soon.

  “What do you expect to get from her, Odelia?” Zee asked. “I doubt if she knows anything about Jane and her son. That happened long after she checked out of her son’s life.”

  “True,” I said. “She may be a mother not visiting her son out of the inability to deal with what happened, or maybe she knows something. My gut is telling me the latter. Seriously,” I pushed, “my Spidey sense is telling me it will be worth the drive.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Right now,” I told her as I decided which shoes to slip into—sneakers or sandals. “I can swing by your house and pick you up on the way.”

  “Gee, Odelia, I can’t,” Zee told me, still keeping her voice low. “I’m at my mother’s, helping her prepare for a ladies’ tea this afternoon. I dropped Seth at the airport this morning and came straight here. I promised Mom I’d help. Can we do this tomorrow? I’ll be back home in time for our thing with Holly tonight.”

  I was disappointed but understood. “Sure. I don’t think Jordon’s mother is going anywhere. It looks like she’s lived in the same place for a long time.”

  “How about I pick you up around four thirty,” Zee said. “I’m using Seth’s car today. I can swing by instead of you coming down to Newport Beach, then back up to Long Beach.”

  “Okay,” I told her half-heartedly. “That makes more sense. Give your mom a big hug for me.”

  “Speaking of which,” Zee said, “Mom wants to know when you and Greg are available for a Sunday dinner. She says it’s been too long since she’s seen you two. And she wants Grace to come too.”

  Pearl, Zee’s mom, was in her seventies, like my mother, and was one of the most gracious women on the planet. And a damn good cook, especially her cornmeal biscuits and roasted chicken. My mother, a fine baker in her own right, had once pressed upon Pearl to teach her how to make the biscuits, and Pearl had agreed. Mom’s were good, but Pearl’s were still better. There was simply something magical about Pearl’s touch in the kitchen.

  “Tell Pearl we’d love to. As soon as Mom’s back from her trip, we’ll coordinate a date.” I glanced again at the clock. I now had hours to kill if I didn’t go to Aliso Viejo. “And I’ll see you later.”

  “So you’re okay with doing Aliso Viejo tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, we can do it tomorrow,” I assured her, struggling to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  Once off the phone, I returned to my tabletop of notes. I stared down at them, looking for something I might have missed. I picked up a pink note, wrote on it Doris West Hoffman? and stuck it directly under Jordon’s note in Holly’s column. I looked over the pieces of colorful paper again. Picking up a fresh green note, I wrote on it videoed by Holly at protest and placed it in Marla’s column to denote that Kingston and his wife had been videorecorded earlier by Holly. I’d forgotten that until this moment. I scanned the tabletop again, hoping another tidbit would wave at me from inside my brain, but nothing did. I returned my eyes to the new note under Jordon’s name. Doris West Hoffman. The three words taunted me, pulled at me, challenged me.

  Less than fifteen minutes later, I was in my car heading for Aliso Viejo. On my feet were my trusty white Keds.

  seventeen

 
Aliso Viejo is located in the San Joaquin Hills about thirty miles south from where I live. Before leaving the house, I’d quickly looked up Doris Hoffman’s address on Google maps. It was a two- story home in a housing development of nice homes on tiny lots, built side by side up and down the street like houses lined up on a Monopoly board. Each house was different but still the same. The Hoffman home was painted a cream color with dark taupe trim and had a three-car garage. I was pleased to see it was not located in a gated community.

  Although I’d told Zee the trip to Aliso Viejo could wait until tomorrow, the more I stared at Doris’s name on the tabletop, the more it yelled yoooo-hoooo at me, begging for my attention. I figured if the trip was a bust, all I’d be losing was time and a bit of gas. These days I had a lot of time on my hands. And if it was a bust, I would be back home in time for Zee to pick me up at four thirty. If it proved fruitful, I could call Zee and tell her to go home and I’d pick her up, since Newport Beach was just north of Aliso Viejo and on my way back. Easy peasy.

  I wasn’t sure yet what I was going to say if I did manage to catch Doris Hoffman at home. I wasn’t even sure of my plan of attack. On the way there, I weighed the option of going up and ringing her doorbell over the option of sitting in my car and watching for signs of life first. It wasn’t as hot today as it had been, but it was warm enough that sitting in a car was not an appeasing thought, especially if I wasn’t sure if the woman had a job and would be working. By the time I pulled up in front of the address on the Marigold report, I had decided on the direct approach.

  Ringing the doorbell triggered the barking of dogs. Not big dogs like Wainwright but the yipping of a couple small dogs. In short order they were directly on the other side of the door, scrabbling and barking like they wanted to tear my face off. Then I heard footsteps and a woman ordering the dogs to quiet down. They did. Good. They were small and well trained. There was a peephole in the door. From the delay in answering the bell, I figured whoever had quieted the dogs was on the other side checking me out. I tried to position myself so that she could see me and hoped I looked presentable and nonthreatening in my navy capris and white summer top.