Hide and Snoop (The Odelia Grey Mysteries)

by Jaffarian, Sue Ann

  I fixed my eyes on Detective Fehring, willing them to look hard and determined instead of bloodshot and drooping. I didn’t want to look at Dev. Cop or not, he was too close of a friend for me to feel antagonistic towards, even under these circumstances. Fehring and I had no such bond, and I doubted we ever would.

  “I went to Irvine to see if the Holts were home. I told you Connie dumped poor Lily on her aunt, Erica Mayfield, who, in turn, stashed the kid with me. Last night—” I paused to realign my dates. “Actually, the night before, when Lily stayed at our house, she had a nightmare and was calling for her mother. With Erica nowhere to be found, I got to wondering if maybe Connie was around—you know, maybe taking a little break from being a mom—so I drove over there.”

  “And the gloves?” Fehring asked.

  I hesitated, knowing I was about to admit to breaking into someone’s home. My brain did some painful calculations, trying to figure out a cagey way around the truth, but it was no use. I was beyond exhaustion, and my brain was mush. I stole a glance at Dev Frye. He was watching me, weighing my facial expressions and eye movements like the pro he was, and I knew he’d detect any lies before they passed my lips.

  Next to me, Seth was quiet, almost holding his breath. On the other side, Greg had a death grip on my knee. Had he been able to move his legs, I’m sure they would have been jiggling from nerves, as mine were.

  After a big sigh of surrender, I plunged forward. “I bought the gloves because I needed them at home.”

  My brain had decided on a compromise—half lie, half truth. I might be ready to admit I was inside the Holt house, but there was no way I was going to admit to it being a premeditated breakin.

  I pointed at the bag with the unused gloves. “If you check the receipt, you’ll see I also bought ibuprofen. I had a headache and decided to take something before I got to the Holt house. While at Rite Aid, I spotted the gloves and picked them up at the same time.”

  “So where’s the bottle of ibuprofen?” asked Dev.

  “In my tote bag. At home.”

  “And what about these gloves?” Fehring jabbed a finger at the evidence bag containing the used gloves.

  “When I got to the Holt house, no one was home, but through the front window it looked like someone had trashed the place. I was going to try all the doors, then remembered the gloves and went back to my car to get a pair.”

  “So you wanted to help, but didn’t want to leave prints?” Fehring pulled out a plastic chair across the table from me and sat down. Her trim ass fit it perfectly, giving me another reason to dislike her. “This is fascinating,” she said with a sneer. “Please continue.”

  “No need to get snotty,” I snapped, rallying my own snarky attitude. “I’m trying to help here.”

  “If you were trying to help, Odelia, why didn’t you call the police when you noticed the Holt house had been broken into?” The question came from Dev, and it was a damn good one.

  Quiet filled the room. The cops were waiting for my answer. My husband and lawyer were dreading it.

  “Because I wanted to search the place first,” I finally admitted. “To see if I could find out where Connie was. I knew once the police came in, I’d never be able to check anything out, but I also didn’t want to leave prints that might confuse the police when they did investigate.” My explanation sounded plausible to me, even if it was on the fly. “I didn’t know for sure the house had been broken into until I got inside.”

  I held up my right hand and index finger to emphasize my next point. “And, I want you to know I didn’t break into that house. The back gate was unlatched and the back sliding door was open when I got there. Once inside, I saw that the whole house had been ransacked. When I left, I locked up.”

  Dev slowly shook his head with disbelief and displeasure. “Did you take anything, Odelia?”

  “Yes,” I confessed. “I took some clean clothes for Lily, but that was it. From the look of the place, I figured she might be with us longer than expected.”

  “And you didn’t think to call the police even after you were inside?” This question came from Detective Fehring. She and Dev were playing Ping-Pong, with my brain as the ball.

  “Whoever trashed that house meant business,” I said, looking straight at her again. “I got in, took the clothes, and got out. Connie and her husband are up to their necks in something nasty, and I didn’t want to get involved any more than necessary.”

  Fehring laughed. She actually leaned back in her chair and laughed. It was low and laced with amusement, like a hungry snake inviting a field mouse to tea. “And how’s that working out for you?”

  The thought of reaching across the table and slapping Fehring crossed my mind. Then I remembered she carried a gun.

  Before I could do or say anything monumentally stupid, the door opened and someone motioned to Dev and Fehring. They both left.

  Once the door was closed, I looked to my left, then my right, and said, “That went well.”

  “In what universe, Odelia?” Greg took his hand off my knee. I’m sure if he’d been able, he would have been up and pacing the room. “You’re in jail, being questioned about a murder, and you’ve just confessed to breaking and entering.”

  “The door was open, Greg,” I corrected. “I broke into nothing. Both houses had their doors unlocked.”

  “It’s still trespassing, Odelia,” Seth chimed in.

  Before the three of us could muster enough energy to get into a verbal brawl, the door opened again, and Fehring and Dev walked back in. There was nothing bland about Dev’s face this time, and even Fehring’s usual smirk was wiped clean.

  “How well did you know Harrison Holt?” Dev asked without preamble.

  “Who?” I responded.

  “Hank Holt,” added Fehring. “Connie’s husband.”

  “I don’t know him at all. In fact, I’d never even set eyes on Connie until I found her dead.” My eyes widened with horrible possibility. “Why? Do you think he killed his wife?”

  “No,” answered Dev. “Holt did not murder his wife. He was found dead a few days ago up in Laguna Canyon.”

  Greg and I gasped at the same time, but he found his voice first. “You mean that guy burned in the fire?” Before they could answer, he added, “We saw it on TV the other night. I thought they didn’t know who that was.”

  “They identified his body late yesterday,” Dev told us. “The sheriff just notified us when they got the report about Connie Holt this morning.”

  I slumped in my chair, all thoughts of saving my own skin gone. “Poor Lily.”

  seventeen

  As soon as we got home, I crawled into bed. I didn’t even bother to change out of the clothes the police had given me. All I wanted was to sleep for a few weeks and wake up to find this was nothing but a bad dream. But sleep eluded me once more.

  Not too long after, I heard Greg wheel in, undress, and lift himself onto our bed. He positioned himself and rolled towards me. I was on my side, my back to him.

  “You’re not going into the shop today?” I didn’t turn to face him. As a rule, Greg worked every other Saturday, trading weekends with his manager.

  “I called Chris. He said he could cover today.”

  Chris Fowler was the manager of Greg’s California shop, Ocean Breeze Graphics. Greg and his partner, Boomer, owned several graphic design and print shops—one in Colorado, one in Phoenix, and the original shop here in Huntington Beach. Boomer lived in Denver and ran that one. The location in Phoenix was operated by Boomer’s brother.

  “I just fed the animals,” Greg added. “So they should leave us alone while we grab some more sleep.” He snuggled close and put an arm around me.

  “You’re not mad at me?” I asked, still not turning to face him.

  “I’m pissed as hell.” The words were harsh, but his voice was low and soft. “But I’m also exhausted and thankful you’re safe.” He gave me a gentle squeeze. “But let’s get some sleep and talk about it more later.”


  “But what about Lily? She can’t go into foster care.” I started to cry. “She just can’t!” This time I did turn around. “We can take her. She can live with us until this is all sorted out.”

  “It’s not that simple, sweetheart.” Greg wiped the tears off my cheeks with his fingers. “Her parents are dead, and you were found with the body of her mother. I don’t think the county is going to just hand her over to us, considering the circumstances.”

  “But we can try.”

  Greg studied me a full minute before turning away. Grabbing his cell phone from his nightstand, he punched one of his speed dials. “Seth,” he said when the other party answered, “I’m sorry to disturb you, especially after what you just did for us, but I have a question. Is there any way we can get temporary custody of Lily? We don’t want her going into foster care if it can be helped.”

  Greg listened for what seemed an eternity but was really only a few seconds. “What’s he saying?” I hissed with impatience. “Put him on speaker.”

  “Seth, I have you on speaker,” Greg told him after punching the phone’s feature. “Odelia’s here.”

  “Like I was telling Greg,” Seth said, his voice coming through the speaker low and tired. “Zee and I feel the same way about the girl. Zee’s done a lot of volunteer work and fundraising for the Orangewood Children and Family Center over the years, and she put in a call to the head honcho. She called him at his home as soon as I got back. Got him out of bed and everything.”

  “And?” I pushed with impatience.

  “Nothing’s final yet, but he’s going to pull some strings and see if Lily can stay with us for the time being.”

  “She can stay here,” I suggested.

  “I’m sorry, Odelia, but they won’t go for that. Not with you being so involved. They’re stretching it for us as it is.”

  Greg gave me an I-told-you-so look that made me want to pinch him, but joy at Lily not going under the care of the county overrode my annoyance.

  “What does ‘time being’ mean?” I asked, wanting clarification.

  “It means,” Seth explained, “until they can find members of her family who can take her. She has at least an aunt that we know of.”

  “And,” Greg added, “Odelia said the girl’s maternal grandparents are alive and living somewhere out of the country.”

  “In the Caribbean,” I called out in the direction of the phone.

  “It won’t take long for the authorities to hunt them down to tell them about Connie and her husband. And I’m sure the county would rather keep Lily in a stable home than put her in Orangewood, where they are already filled to capacity.”

  “I want to come over and see Lily later today,” I told both men.

  There was a long pause, both on the phone and in the bed next to me.

  “Sweetheart,” began Greg, “as much as I know you want to see Lily, and so do I, I think we should lay low today.”

  Seth was of the same mind. “Greg’s right, Odelia. Let everything settle down and get some rest. You’ve had quite a shock and no sleep. Lily will be fine with us.”

  “How about tomorrow?” I pushed.

  “Odelia, it’s me.” Coming from the phone now was Zee’s voice. She sounded concerned and dead serious. “Odelia, the child has been through a lot, and the worst of it is just beginning, with both her parents now gone. Let her have today without confusion and being torn in several directions. If you come here, she’ll want to go home with you, and we can’t allow that. It will be difficult for both of you.”

  It made sense, but I still didn’t like it. After a long silence, I squeaked out, “I understand. We have to do what’s best for Lily.” And I meant it.

  “Tell you what,” said Zee, softening her voice. “Let’s see what happens today. If everything calms down and the county doesn’t object, you and Greg can come over tomorrow for Sunday dinner. You can have a nice long visit with Lily, and I know she’ll be happy to see you.”

  She was throwing me a bone, and I snatched at it like Wainwright. “Okay. Let’s see what happens.” I followed that with something else on my mind. “Did Lily have a nightmare last night? Did she call out for her mother?”

  “No,” answered Zee. “At least not that we noticed. She slept like a log.”

  Maybe it was only our house or my mothering that brought out Lily’s night terrors.

  I looked at Greg and saw he was reading my thoughts. Sometimes I love that he knows me so well. Other times, like now, it felt like an annoying invasion of privacy.

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that,” my husband whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

  When Greg and I woke up, it was just after noon. We dawdled around the house with no real purpose, neither productive or relaxing, until Greg suggested we go out for lunch, then a movie. I knew he was trying to keep my mind occupied, and I loved him for it. While we showered and dressed, I asked Greg if he thought the police would question Carl Yates today or wait until Monday when the office opened. The idea of going into the office in two days made my stomach churn.

  Greg carefully shaved around his beard. He stopped long enough to give the question a few seconds’ thought before airing his opinion. “I’m betting they try to contact him today or tomorrow. Seems they’d start asking questions sooner than later, and the police are going to do their damndest to find Erica. You can bet on that. I’ll bet one of their first stops was to that housekeeper of hers.”

  I ran a brush through my hair while standing at the sink next to him. “Do you think Erica killed her own sister?”

  “Hard to say.”

  He rinsed the remaining scraps of lather from his face before burying it in a clean towel. I love watching Greg shave. It’s like comfort food for the eyes.

  He pulled the towel down, revealing his tidied face and beard. “You’ve said yourself she’s a cold piece of work.”

  I nodded. “That she is, but I’m not sure she’s a cold killer.”

  “If Connie came to the house looking for Lily, they might have gotten into a fight.” While he spoke, Greg wheeled into the bedroom to get dressed.

  I followed and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on my socks. “True. If I had a sister and she’d pawned my kid off on strangers, I’d be mad as hell.” I stood up and reached for my jeans. From the bed, the two cats watched with bored expressions. Wainwright was in the back yard. “But would I be mad enough to kill? It’s not like Lily was sold into slavery.”

  Greg shimmied into his own jeans. “Who else could have had access to Erica’s house? For starters, there’s the housekeeper, Racel.”

  “Connie might have had a key. At least you would think so, given they have no other family and lived in the same area.”

  Greg agreed. “Makes sense for emergencies. Mom and Dad have our key, as do Seth and Zee. And we have both of theirs.”

  “Racel mentioned Erica having a boyfriend. He might have a key, depending on how close they were.” I slipped a gray nubby sweater over my head. “I hope Clark can determine if it’s Mark or not.”

  Greg popped his head through the neck of his sweatshirt. “Maybe the killer was waiting to kill Erica and not Connie. If so, do you think they’d really need a key to get in?”

  Stopping short while fastening my watch around my wrist, I turned and looked at Greg, my eyes wide. “That means it could have been anyone. And the killer could have been after them both.”

  Greg ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. Beyond washing and drying, that was his idea of combing. “My money’s on the thugs who trashed Connie’s house and torched her husband.”

  “Ya know,” I said, sidling up to Greg. I put a hand on his shoulder. He put a hand on my ass, his earlier anger with me apparently gone. “Could be, whoever killed Connie was actually there to kill Erica.”

  “Could be,” my hubs added, giving my butt a gentle squeeze, “both sisters were in hot water and on someone’s serious shit list.”


  eighteen

  We went to one of our favorite cafés near the beach. In spite of the cool, overcast day, we sat on the patio so we could keep Wainwright with us. Greg wolfed down a bacon cheeseburger with sweet potato fries while I picked at a spinach omelet and a bagel. Both of us drank extra coffee. After receiving tidbits from our plates, the dog happily napped out of the way under the table. Not once during the meal did either of us mention Connie Holt, Erica Mayfield, Lily, my job, or the police. The conversation was carefully kept to the mundane items of our life, like who was going to take Wainwright to the vet for his annual checkup next week and should we ask our gardener to plant new shrubs in the front of the house. We didn’t agree ahead of time to keep the conversation away from murder, but we both seemed to be craving the normality of our usually simple life. We munched our food in peace until Greg broke the unspoken topic taboo.

  “I have something I need to say to you,” he said after the waitress took away our plates and refilled our coffee mugs.

  I braced myself to be lectured on my behavior last night.

  Greg reached over and covered my hand with his. “I want you to leave Woobie.”

  A coarse laugh of relief escaped my lips. “I think after last night, I’ll probably get the heave-ho anyway.” I set my free hand over the top of his, making a hand sandwich. “My head was already on the chopping block, honey; this will just make the decision final.”

  “But you didn’t kill Erica’s sister.”

  “No, I didn’t, but law firms are very conservative, as a rule, and skittish about such things. Trust me, as soon as the police contact Carl and the questions begin, there will be a pow-wow about this, and I’ll be determined an unsavory employee. That’s why I asked you earlier if you thought the police would wait until Monday.”

  Something wasn’t resting well with Greg. I could tell by the way he turned his head and looked off to the side, as if he’d find the answer to his troubles sitting on the sidewalk like an abandoned kitty.