I gave Seth a small smile of gratitude.
“They’re trying to locate her grandparents now,” he told us.
“What about her father’s family?” asked Greg.
“The only lead they have are her maternal grandparents in the Caribbean. They still haven’t located her aunt. And they have no information at all yet about her father’s family.”
Zee poured us all some iced tea. Taking my glass, I told them, “Alyce, Erica’s secretary, and her husband came to visit me today to see how I was doing. Erica hasn’t contacted her yet either.”
“If they know, then the police are wasting no time questioning folks,” Seth said. “Makes you wonder what the police found out from that Baker guy, if anything.”
“Speaking of which, Mark Baker called me today,” I told them. “About some client file he was working on. It didn’t sound as if the police had contacted him yet.”
My dark thoughts spilled onto the table. “I can’t help but wonder if Erica’s dead, too.” I looked at my husband and friends. “Doesn’t it seem odd with the murder on the news that she hasn’t popped up?”
“Unless she did the killing,” Seth suggested.
“Odelia doesn’t think that,” Greg told him.
I took a drink of tea. “At least I’m trying not to think that way. I just can’t see a motive for Erica killing her sister. She might not have liked the idea of the Holts adopting Lily, but that wasn’t recent and shouldn’t be a reason to kill.” I shook my head. “No, if Erica’s still alive, I think there’s a good chance she’s running from whoever killed the Holts.”
Seth moved his head in agreement. “I think you might be on to something there, Odelia. She disappeared about the same time her sister did and her brother-in-law was killed.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’d love to get that weasel Mark Baker alone and make him talk.”
“Down, girl,” said my lawyer. “We don’t need you going all gangsta on us.”
Seth was right. Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue how to torture someone. Maybe I could talk them to death. “You think Dev might tell us anything?”
“Doubt it,” Seth answered. “He’s too close to you and has to appear objective. If you become a suspect, he might not be able to work the case at all.”
twenty
As expected, at the end of our visit, Lily did want to come home with us, but we managed, with just a few shed tears on her side and me managing to dam up my own, to convince her to stay with Zee and Seth. We promised we’d come and visit again very soon. We told Seth and Zee about my plans to stay out of the office for a few days. Seth thought it sounded like a good plan, and Zee told me to stop by one day to have lunch with her and Lily.
“Honey,” I said to Greg as we were driving home, “I have an idea I want to run by you.”
“About the murder?”
“No.”
“About your job?”
“If you’d stop playing twenty questions, I’ll tell you.”
Greg shot a sexy grin my way, signaling I could talk without further interruption.
“What do you think about us adopting Lily?”
For a split second the van swerved, making me glad it wasn’t raining and the road slick.
“Where in the hell did that come from?” Greg glanced over at me, but he didn’t seem angry, just confused.
I shrugged. “I know we shelved the idea of adopting, but now I’m wondering if maybe we should step up and give Lily a home.”
“Lily has a family, Odelia. You just can’t snatch her from them.”
“Erica won’t want her,” I argued. “She was against the Holts adopting Lily in the first place. And who knows about the grandparents. If they’re retired and living in some tropical paradise, they might not want a little kid mucking up their lifestyle. If they’re anything like Erica, they’ll be happy to cut Lily loose, especially since she isn’t their blood.”
“True, but we don’t know about Hank’s family. They might be entirely different—very loving and happy to take Lily.”
“I’m just saying, if Lily does become a free agent, I think we should consider it.” I took a deep breath. “Unless you don’t want to. This has to be a one hundred percent mutual decision.”
“Agreed.”
We rode the rest of the way home in silence. I took the time to calculate what it would mean to take on parenthood at this time in our lives. I don’t know what was going on in Greg’s mind, but I was equally thrilled and terrified.
We were just coming into the house when my cell phone rang. I checked the display, half expecting to see Carl Yates’s name.
“That Carl?” asked Greg.
I shook my head. “It’s Clark. He probably got my package and has questions.”
After dropping my purse onto the kitchen counter, I answered the call. “Hi, Clark,” I said to my brother as soon as I answered. “Did you get my package?”
“It’s not Clark,” the familiar voice said, “although he is standing right here.”
“Willie!” As soon as I said the name, Greg perked up. “What a nice surprise. Greg’s here and says hello.”
“It certainly is a surprise, though I hardly think it’s nice.”
“What do you mean?” I had a sinking suspicion I knew what he meant. Willie Proctor had the uncanny ability to know everything about my life. He was like an eye in the sky or Big Brother watching over me.
I moved to a chair in the living room. Greg moved his wheelchair next to me. “He knows about the body, doesn’t he?” he asked.
Because I’m never quite sure where the mouthpiece is on my smartphone, I held my hand over the entire phone while I whispered to Greg. “He hasn’t said yet.”
When I put the phone back to my ear, Willie was saying something.
“I’m sorry, Willie, but I missed part of that. I was talking to Greg.”
“Put it on speaker, then,” Willie requested. As soon as I did, we heard a deep sigh. “Do I need to send Clark out there to keep an eye on you?”
“Absolutely not!” I protested. “I’m not a child. Besides, Greg’s here.”
“Okay, then, to keep an eye on the two of you?”
“And hey,” I said with sharp indignation, “since when does my brother need your permission to visit me?”
“He doesn’t. But maybe he needs to be there not as your family but in an official capacity as my head of security?”
“Are you mad because I asked for some fingerprints to be run?”
“Nice deflection attempt, little mama, but no.”
“Then I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, then my source was wrong? You weren’t hauled in by the police for questioning in a murder?”
I hemmed and hawed. Next to me, Greg fidgeted. Not bothering to cover the phone, I leaned closer to my husband and said, “My phone’s becoming Grand Central. Next time it rings, I’m not answering. And tomorrow I’m changing the number.”
“We heard that,” yelled a voice from the phone.
Cupping my hand, Greg pulled the phone closer to him. “Hey, Willie, it’s Greg. About that police thing, we’ve got that under control. As usual, Odelia found the body but is not a suspect.”
While he talked, I picked at a loose thread on the arm of the chair, then discovered another. One of the cats must have been using it as a scratching post. My money was on Muffin. Seamus was getting too old to be that ambitious.
“She won’t be needing those fingerprints after all,” Greg continued saying into the phone. “One way or another, Odelia’s going to leave her job, so it doesn’t matter if that Mark guy is sleeping with her boss or not.”
“The hell it doesn’t!” I stopped fussing with the loose threads and snatched the phone closer to me, falling headlong into the stampede of words flooding my mouth. “Willie, I still need those prints run. They could lead to the real killer. We don’t know if the killer went after Erica, who’s my boss and missi
ng, and got her sister, Connie, by mistake, or even if Erica is still alive herself. But I’m pretty sure Connie and her husband were into some deep, dark stuff of their own.”
“What do you care?” Willie asked in a voice as mellow as warm tea.
His question stopped me in my tracks. “Huh?”
“I said, what do you care, little momma? If you’re leaving your job, this Erica will not be your boss any longer. And if you’re not a suspect, then you have nothing to prove. You and Greg sit back and let the police do their job. That’s what they’re there for.”
“But,” I began.
“No buts about it, Odelia,” Clark added, cutting me off. “Willie’s right. Without a tie to that law firm, you don’t have a dog in this hunt. There is absolutely no reason for you to put your life on the line for these people, so don’t. They wouldn’t do it for you. So stay out of this!” Clark’s voice escalated until it pushed me back in my chair. Greg took the phone from me.
“Calm down, Clark,” Greg said firmly. “No need to go all Nazi on Odelia. She’s been through a lot these past few days.”
Clark lowered his voice, but he wasn’t through. “Asking me to run prints was one thing. I was happy to do it to help you keep your job. But now there’s a murder, and that murder involves people at that firm. The sooner you get out of that damn place, the better.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way,” Greg said. “Mike Steele’s an angel compared to these guys.”
I jumped to Woobie’s defense. “But we don’t know the murder was connected to the firm. To someone in the firm, yes, but not the firm itself.”
There was silence on both sides until Clark broke it. “Look, sis, I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I worry about you and Greg. You tend to rush headlong into trouble without thinking.”
I leaned towards the phone. “I understand and appreciate your concern, Clark, but we’re not rushing into anything. I just need those fingerprints run. If they confirm anything, I’ll turn the information over to Dev Frye and step away. I promise.”
“Just so you know.” Willie’s voice came through the line. “I’ve set the prints and DNA samples in motion. And I’m going to hold you to that promise of stepping away. In the meantime, just keep your head down. Both of you.”
“They’re right, you know,” Greg said after the call was over. “We need to keep a low profile on this. Especially if we want a chance at getting Lily.”
I did a double take. “You mean you want her, too?”
“Yes. I think it’s a great idea.”
Throwing myself into my husband’s arms, I squeezed him tight. After a few seconds he pushed me back a bit and looked into my eyes. “But only if she is without a home. I will not condone taking her from her family or even trying to convince them to give her up. Understand?”
I nodded as I fought back tears.
“And you know,” Greg continued, “we’ll be put under a lot of scrutiny by the state and county officials and may not get her in the end. You ready for that roller coaster?”
Again I nodded. “Maybe they’ll let us be her foster parents and see how it works out.”
“You never know.” Greg gave me a look that melted my heart. “You ready to be a full-time mom?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, “but if it’s meant to be, I’ll rise to the occasion.”
Greg took me back into his arms and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I know you will, sweetheart.”
twenty-one
It felt odd to get up on Monday morning and not have to get ready for the office. Greg rolled over and told me to stay in bed. He wrapped an arm around me and nuzzled my neck. Normally that would be enough for me to toss any and all exercise plans aside, but this morning I was antsy and not inclined towards romance. After heartfelt apologies and a promise of a rain check to Greg, I got up, put on my sneakers, and left on my usual walk with Wainwright.
By the time we’d gone the few blocks to the beach, I began to regret my decision to leave my warm bed and hot hubby. It wasn’t raining, but it was damp and chilly. I contemplated turning around but instead zipped my windbreaker high up under my chin and kept moving, glad that under it I’d layered an old sweater over my usual tee shirt. I hadn’t slept well, even after a glass or two of wine with dinner. My brain was a kaleidoscope of people, events, and possibilities. Who killed Connie and Hank? Where was Erica? What was going to happen to Lily? These questions and others twisted and turned in dizzying patterns of bright colors and shapes, mingling with secondary shades representing my job situation and the relationship between Mark and Erica. I was hoping the brisk morning walk would clear my head and calm me down.
Wainwright didn’t seem to mind the chill. He trotted ahead of me, his tail high, his step perky, setting our pace until we reached the beach. Once there, we traveled up and down the water’s edge, getting our exercise, until I was tuckered out. We trudged back up to the sidewalk and plunked down on a bench facing the ocean. I wanted to sort a few things out before going home. Wainwright stretched out on the concrete next to the bench and kept a sharp eye on the gulls.
We hadn’t been settled long when my cell phone rang. By the ring tone, I knew it wasn’t Greg. He insisted I take my phone with me on my morning walks in case of emergencies, but so far, the only emergencies seemed to be him calling me to pick up a few pastries from the bakery on my way back.
I dug my phone out of the pocket of my windbreaker and looked at it. The display said the number was blocked, meaning the caller didn’t want to be identified. Usually I don’t answer those calls. The numbers of my friends, family, and coworkers were always displayed. A new caller with an unblocked number would at least show the number, but this number was specifically blocked. I was about to decline the call when I realized it might be Willie calling. We didn’t have a direct number for Willie. He was still a fugitive from the law. But we did have a number to call if we needed him. Neither Greg nor I knew who or what the number reached, only that it had a Wyoming prefix and a mechanical voice telling us to leave a message. Although these days, should we need to reach Willie, we’d probably just call Clark. Considering Willie was running those samples for me, I moved my finger to the answer button.
It was not Willie.
“Odelia?” Although a question, the woman’s voice was not hesitant. Nor was it a young-sounding voice.
I pressed the phone closer to my ear to hear better and asked, “Who is this?”
“A ghost from your past.”
Humph. The last time someone said that to me, it had been Clarice Hollowell and had spelled trouble. But this wasn’t Clarice. I knew her voice and, besides, she was currently a long-term guest of the California Department of Corrections.
“I’m not into playing games,” I said, keeping my own tone firm. “Tell me or I hang up.”
“It’s Mother.”
I doubted my mother, Grace Littlejohn, would ever call herself Mother. She was Mom. But even if she did, would she call herself a ghost from my past, no matter how appropriate? Then again, Mom was an eccentric and cranky old broad who lived in a time zone three hours ahead of mine. And if Clark was unreachable, she might call me to amuse herself. She’d done it before. But the voice didn’t sound like hers either.
I ventured another comment. “Not my mother, you’re not.”
“It’s Mother, Odelia,” the woman stressed. “My, how quickly you’ve forgotten. I’m truly disappointed. I thought I was more memorable than that.”
When I didn’t answer, she added, “Need your house cleaned?”
When my brain clicked, matching the name with the reference, I almost threw the phone into the sea and ran all the way home. Let Mother Do It was a house-cleaning business that moonlighted as contract killers. I’d encountered them while on the trail of a missing Mike Steele. Mother, an older woman, was the leader of the organization.
“No.” I moved the phone to my other ear and stared at the waves lapping the sand below me. “My house is
just fine, thank you.” I fought to keep my voice even.
“Are you sure?” she taunted.
I started to ask Mother how she got my cell phone number but stopped. If there was one thing I’d learned, both in my years working in the legal field and especially during my stint as a corpse magnet, it was how easy it was to find people and their contact information. All you needed was a shred of starter information and knowing where to look.
“I see you’re married now.”
Again, it was almost the same words used by Clarice when she’d shown up on my doorstep unannounced. It made me wonder if there was a script undesirables could buy and memorize when reconnecting to people in their past.
“My life is of no concern to you,” I answered with my chin aloft in defiance, as if she could see it.
“But Odelia, you’re wrong about that. Very wrong.”
My chin dropped, and I swallowed hard. “Is this about settling old scores? About what happened back in that house?”
“Partially, but not in the way you might imagine. I need you to meet me today.”
I snorted. “And what—walk into a trap?”
“Tch, tch, tch. If I had my cap set on killing you, do you really think you would still be alive? My crew and I are very good at what we do.” Her voice vibrated with amusement. “If you want to live, you need to meet with me. Today. It’s that simple. And you will not be ambushed. At least not by me and my people.” Her voice had slipped from mirth into dead serious in the blink of an eye. “And you cannot tell anyone where you’re going or bring anyone, not even that cutie husband of yours, or the deal about your safety is off.”
I steeled my shoulders as I readied to ask the next question. “When and where?”
I hated driving into Los Angeles, especially during the week. I’d made good time on the 405 Freeway, but once I merged onto the 110 heading north, things bogged down. My portable GPS said I would arrive a few minutes after ten. I hoped it was right, because ten thirty was the time I’d set with Mother, and I didn’t want to be late. I would have left earlier, but I had to get Greg out the door first and with as few questions as possible.
Hide and Snoop (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) Page 17