Twice as Dead

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  It was pretty clear to all of us whose mind had jumped the track in a big way.

  “If you’ll let me,” Clarice said, “I can prove to you Homer is dead. I have his records. He was the only one of our people who’d ever died, so we kept a copy of his death certificate just in case.”

  “Drop the gun!” a voice yelled from just outside the doorway.

  It was Steele.

  I didn’t know whether to be happy or petrified.

  “I said drop the gun or I’ll shoot.” Steele’s voice was steady and authoritative. It was his legal voice—the one he used when calling opposing counsel out on bullshit tactics. He stepped into view in the doorway and stood a few feet away from Amber and Betty. He glanced at Sally and me. “You two okay?”

  I nodded for both of us.

  Clutched in Steele’s right hand and aimed at Betty was Sally’s gun. In his left hand was my phone.

  Steele with a handgun. Geez. And so much for not letting him get involved. Double geez.

  Quickly, I glanced at Sally. She looked as surprised and terrified as I felt. It was a standoff, and we were the only ones unarmed. Not good odds.

  “Who you gonna shoot, cowboy?” asked Betty of Steele. “You shoot me, I’ll fire. You shoot my sister, I’ll fire. Either way, one of your gal pals is gonna wind up in the morgue.”

  “We have no complaint with you,” Steele said, now switching to his negotiating voice.

  Actually, I did have a complaint with Betty and Amber, but I wisely understood now was not the time to raise my hand and voice it.

  “Let Odelia and Sally go,” Steele continued. “This is between the three of you. It doesn’t involve them.” He held up the phone. “Odelia has a family emergency. I beg you, please let her go.”

  My eyes shot open. I stared at the phone. Was Steele bluffing?

  Betty’s eyes widened, too, but for a different reason. “Are you insane? Who gives a shit about her problems?”

  “What’s going on, Steele?” I asked in a shaky voice.

  He ignored me and kept his baby blues trained on Betty and Amber. “There’s enough time for the two of you to take off before the police arrive. No one here will stop you, I promise. But if you stay, you’ll be leaving either in cuffs or a body bag.”

  A body bag? I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of Steele’s mouth. And I thought I watched too much TV.

  “The list,” Amber said to her brother.

  Betty two-stepped a couple steps to his right so he could watch us and Steele better. Amber stayed where she was, close to me and Clarice, with her deadly blade at the ready.

  Betty glanced at Steele. “Tell Clarice to give us the list.”

  “No,” cried Clarice. “If they get the list, a lot of people could get killed.”

  Her gun dug deeper into my back, but my mind was on what Steele had said about an emergency. Was it Greg? Clark? If Steele was bluffing, I was going to tie him up and drag him down Pacific Coast Highway behind my car, providing we got out of this alive.

  “What about the gun in my back, Clarice?” I asked. “A lot of people here could get killed if you don’t cooperate, including yourself.”

  “Give us the list and we’ll go,” Betty said to Clarice. Amber held out her hand, palm up, toward Clarice.

  “It’s gone,” Clarice explained.

  “I don’t believe you,” answered Amber, who moved forward, her knife just inches from my gut. It was a toss-up which would enter my soft middle first, the blade or a bullet.

  “Time is ticking, folks,” Steele reminded everyone. He shot a look at Clarice. “Quit playing games and give them what they want so we can all go about our business. You folks need to get out of here, and we need to get Odelia to the hospital.”

  “The hospital!” I yelled. “Is it Greg?” Next to me, Sally reached out and put an arm around my waist.

  Steele shook his head. “It’s not Greg. Dev Frye called you.” Steele held up my cell phone to make his point. “Zee Washington’s been shot. She’s in surgery at Hoag.”

  My breath came in big gulps as I tried to understand what Steele had just told me. My legs felt like rubber. I staggered and would have fallen if not for Sally’s support.

  With tears streaming down my face, I pleaded with Betty Rumble and Amber. “Please let me go. I have to get to the hospital.”

  “Give us the list and we’ll take off,” Betty repeated.

  I shook off Sally and turned on Clarice, not caring about the gun in her hand. “Give them the damn list!”

  Surprised by my outburst, Clarice took a step backward. She seemed confused. Her eyes darted from me to Amber and Betty.

  “Give it to them!” My voice bounced off the walls.

  Unsure of what to do, Clarice let the gun in her hand waver. Taking advantage of her moment of weakness, I slammed my left arm against her right hand, sending it wide and high. The gun went off, the bullet destroying the window before she dropped it. Sally took a dive for the dropped gun.

  “Not so fast,” shouted Betty, his gun aimed at Sally’s head. She stayed crouched by the gun but put her hands up in the air. Steele didn’t move a muscle, keeping his gun tight on Betty.

  I had Clarice pinned backwards on the desk. With one hand, I tore open the front of her jacket and reached into her bra, digging out the flash drive. I held it up for everyone to see. “This for our freedom.”

  “Take it,” Steele encouraged Betty and Amber. “And get the hell out of here while you still have time.”

  Betty exchanged looks with his sister, then nodded to her. Amber stepped forward, one hand out, the other still grasping her knife. I handed her the flash drive and pulled my hand back, lest she get the urge to slice me just for good measure.

  Steele stepped farther into the room, continuing to keep the gun trained on Betty and the cell in his hand. “Now slowly back out of the room and leave. We’ll stay here until you’re gone.”

  Betty jerked his head at Amber, and the diminutive killer backed up until she was next to him. Slowly, they edged toward the door, while Steele shifted farther away from it to give them room to make their getaway. He stayed away from us, keeping Betty’s gun occupied. The men kept their guns aimed at each other while the delicate dance played out.

  I shifted from foot to foot, worried about Zee, going mad at the excruciatingly slow progress of the Straights.

  “Could you move a little faster, please?” I urged. “I have to get out of here.”

  “All in good time, Grey,” Steele told me, his voice calm.

  Amber was the first out the door. Once in the hallway, we heard her pick up her pace. Behind her was Betty. As soon as he edged out into the hallway, Steele said to us in a rushed whisper, “Get down behind the desk and stay there. All of you.”

  Without question, I grabbed Clarice by her jacket, hauled her ass down to the floor, and shoved her behind the large desk. Sally grabbed Clarice’s gun and joined us. Clarice was weeping but compliant.

  Steele moved quickly to the door. He shut and locked it, then moved off to the side, away from it, and kept his gun on it. It was clear anyone coming through the doorway was going to get a bullet for their trouble. It was barely shut when we heard shouts and someone throwing themselves at the office door. Two shots hit the door in succession, splintering the thin wood but ineffective in opening it or hurting anyone. Curled up behind the desk like defensive armadillos, the blast of each bullet caused both me and Clarice to flinch.

  Sally and Steele kept their guns trained on the door. Through the shattered window, we could hear many voices, but there were no more gunshots.

  Looking up at Steele, I asked, “The police were here the whole time?”

  He shook his head. “I’m guessing just the last few minutes.”

  I started to get up, but Steele waved me back down. We stayed that way until there was a solid knock on the door.

  “Open up, it’s Dev.”

  I let out a cry of joy and relief, followed
by a cry of anguish for Zee.

  As soon as Steele unlocked the door and Dev entered, I threw myself at the big detective. “What’s happened to Zee?”

  Behind him were other cops, guns drawn. When they entered the room, Dev pointed to Clarice. “That’s Clarice Thomas Hollowell. Cuff her with the others.”

  A uniformed cop aimed his gun at Sally. She’d forgotten she still had hold of Clarice’s gun. Slowly, she raised her hands above her head until an officer relieved her of the weapon. “That’s Clarice’s gun, not mine,” she told him.

  Her hands still in the air, Sally staggered to a nearby chair and dropped heavily into it, suddenly turning so pale I worried for her.

  “Are you okay, Sally?” I asked.

  “Just a little bingo, huh?” She lowered her head between her legs and took deep breaths.

  “You were great, Sally, really.” It was Steele. He still had the gun in his hand, but it was lowered.

  One of the uniformed cops held out a hand for Steele’s gun. Steele finally remembered he was holding it. He still had my cell phone in his other hand. “This is her gun,” he told the cop, indicating Sally. “It hasn’t been fired.” He handed it off to the police, who assured Sally it would be returned to her after the investigation.

  After giving me my cell phone, Steele walked over to Sally and placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing it in a comforting motion. “It’s just the adrenaline rush leaving. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

  I stared at my boss in wonder. He’d saved our lives. If he got cocky and insufferable about it later, I’d let him. He deserved it.

  I looked down at my cell. It was on, connected to Dev’s phone. “You were on the phone the whole time?” I looked up at Dev.

  “Yeah. I tried calling you several times about Zee. I tried Greg and Clark, too, but got no answer there either. Finally, Steele answered your phone and told me what was going on.” He looked over at Steele. “I told him to stay put until we got here, but, like you, he doesn’t listen. At least he had the good sense to keep the phone on speaker while he played hero.”

  “And Zee?” It took everything I had not to dissolve into a pile of sobbing mush, and even more restraint not to grab Dev and shake an explanation out of him.

  “Too early to tell. She’s still in surgery. She was coming out of a restaurant with Seth when someone fired from a car. Seth’s fine.”

  “Another drive-by?” I gasped, both my hands shooting to my face to cover my mouth.

  Dev grasped my shoulders. “We were wrong, Odelia. That bullet the other day was never meant for you. It was meant for Zee.”

  A uniformed officer came up and asked Dev a question. I wanted to snap at him and tell him to go the hell away. Instead, I waited, not believing what I was hearing. Who would want to hurt Zee? Some disgruntled Bible study buddy?

  After giving instructions to the officer, Dev returned to his explanation. “Apparently, Seth handled a very messy divorce recently. His client was the wife. The husband blamed Seth and went after Zee. His plan was to take Seth’s wife away from him, as he imagined Seth had taken his.”

  My eyes exploded out of my head in surprise. “Are you kidding?”

  “Not at all. The husband paid for the hit. We have both him and the driver in custody. Both have confessed. We don’t have the shooter yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”

  The thought of a professional hit man going after my best and dearest friend nearly stopped my heart. It was funny—although I wouldn’t want it, I could live with one going after me, but not Zee. I took deep breaths to slow down my pounding heart.

  “I have to get to Zee, Dev. Right now.”

  He gently touched my face. “I know.” He looked over to where Steele was comforting Sally. She looked more her old self now. At least her color was back. “Guys,” he called over to them, “do you mind if I send Odelia to the hospital while you two tell me what happened here?”

  They shook their heads, but another plainclothes officer, a tall, slim woman with short hair, wasn’t so sure. “We need to get her statement, Detective.”

  “And we will, Detective,” Dev assured his colleague. “I’ll vouch for her in the meantime. But right now she needs to get to Hoag.”

  The other detective looked tough but understanding. “How about I drive you to the hospital, ma’am? You can give me your statement there.”

  I looked up at Dev.

  “Sounds good to me, Odelia. You’ll be in good hands.”

  I nodded and walked over to Sally and Steele. I gave them a quick summary of Zee’s situation, followed by a big hug. “Thanks for everything.”

  “Don’t worry, Grey,” Steele said to me. “You look in on Zee—I’ve got your back.”

  I snuffled back tears. “I know you do.”

  I walked into the private room at Hoag Hospital with a lighter heart than I’d had in a couple of days. Vases of flowers covered almost every flat surface. Dev was standing by the window. I looked down at Greg. He looked up and nodded encouragement as he rolled through the door. Without looking at Zee, I found a small spot and set the flowers in my hand with the others on the counter.

  “Those are beautiful, Odelia.” Zee’s voice, though weak, was music to my ears.

  Next to her bed, Seth sat clutching her hand. He looked gray and bedraggled. He gave Greg and me a small, reassuring smile. “The doctor was just in. He told us she’ll be fine soon. They got the bullet, and it doesn’t appear that it did any permanent damage.”

  I nearly fainted with relief.

  I took a step toward Zee’s bed, still worried in spite of the doctor’s report. After kissing his wife’s hand, Seth got up from his seat and offered it to me.

  “No,” I protested. “I’m fine right here.”

  “Take it, Odelia,” Zee insisted.

  I sat down next to Zee’s bed and took her hand, which was still warm from her husband’s. “I’m so sorry, Zee. You know if I could trade places with you, I would.”

  “I know that, sweetie, but it’s not your fault.”

  “I’d still trade places.”

  “I owe you an apology, Odelia,” Seth said softly. “A big one.”

  Zee coughed slightly. “No, Seth, we owe Odelia a big apology.” She squeezed my hand, and I could feel how weak she was. My heart was heavy watching her struggle to speak.

  “Shh,” I said to her. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  Seth shook his head. “No, Odelia, it can’t. We have to say it now.” From her bed, Zee nodded in agreement.

  Seth sat on the edge of his wife’s bed and took her other hand. “The shooting, Odelia, wasn’t your fault. Not now, not the first time.”

  “I know that, Seth.”

  “We shouldn’t have been so quick to blame you.”

  “Why not? I did. I was sure those bullets were meant for me.”

  I paused. “And it doesn’t matter now because Zee’s going to be fine.” I looked at Zee and gave her a big, dopey smile. “And it’s a good thing Dev’s people found the guy who did this,” I told her, “or I’d be tracking his sorry ass down myself.”

  “Actually, we didn’t find him,” Dev said. His cell phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at it before continuing. “The shooter was brought in by a private citizen—someone who took great pains to locate him and take him down. He actually arrived trussed like a rolled roast and quite worse for wear. His story matched that of the driver’s.”

  “Who did that?” I turned toward the Washingtons.

  “This is the first time we’ve heard that part,” Seth said with interest.

  “Who? Dammit. Who?” I demanded, sounding like an owl with Tourette’s.

  Dev waved his cell at us. “Sorry, folks, but I have to go. So glad you’re doing fine, Zee. I’ve been shot myself. Take it easy, do everything the doctor tells you, and you’ll be up and around in no time.”

  When Dev took his leave, I followed. On the way out, Greg grabbed my hand. “Some thi
ngs don’t need a full-blown disclosure, sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t have disagreed more.

  “What was that all about?” I asked Dev when I caught up to him by the elevator.

  “I got a call. I have to leave.”

  “Not that and you know it.” The elevator came, but I pulled Dev away from it. “Who brought the shooter in? Was it Willie?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then who?”

  “Look closer to home, Odelia.” Dev’s eyes traveled down the hall to where Greg was seated, watching us.

  Greg had said he would take care of the shooter, and I knew he had meant it. I just didn’t think he’d be able to find him. If I had, I would have been more scared at that than standing between two guns.

  Another elevator came. This one Dev got on. I was too stunned to stop him.

  I walked the length of the hallway to Greg. “You?” I asked my husband, shaking my head. “You brought in the shooter?”

  “I was simply the wheel man, sweetheart.”

  “Wheel man?” I put my hands on my hips and stood facing Greg, my face set in stone. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  “It means I drove the car—or in this case, my van. I’m just sorry we didn’t find the bastard before he shot Zee.”

  I walked away from Greg to think. Turning around, I leaned against the wall and stared at him. Around us, nurses, doctors, and various hospital staff bustled about, doing their jobs.

  “It was you and Clark, wasn’t it?”

  Greg didn’t say anything but just continued to look at me, his face set in determination, his mouth hard, his shoulders straight.

  “You two hunted that creep down, hog-tied him, and delivered him to Dev, didn’t you?”

  He simply nodded.

  I wanted to both kiss and slap him—at the same time.

  Returning to Greg’s side, I lifted his right hand and studied it. It was scraped and bruised, not unlike my right cheek. I’d seen the scratches the day before but dismissed them. Greg was always scraping his hands and arms at work.

  “You beat the bastard raw, just as you said you would.”