“No, nothing like that. We were just discussing a friend.”
Draining the last of my coffee, I got off the bench and tossed the paper cup into a nearby trash can. “I need to get home and get ready for work, and you need to make sure Billy’s ready for school.”
I called Wainwright to me and was latching the leash to his collar when the cell phone tucked into the pocket of my sweatpants rang. Once I moved to Seal Beach and began walking alone with Wainwright, Greg insisted I always have my cell phone with me for emergencies. Usually, though, the only emergency calls I received in the morning were from Greg, asking me to stop by the bakery on the way back. Besides the cell phone, I also took to carrying a little cash for these morning calls.
Today’s emergency involved two cinnamon rolls.
I turned to Silas. “Walk me back, Silas? There’s a sticky bun in it for you.”
Pops was standing in front of the bakery when we got there. As soon as he saw me, he became agitated.
“The van,” the old man said, squinting and pointing at my chest.
“The van?” I was puzzled. He must mean Greg’s van. “Not today, Pops. Greg and his van are at home.”
“The van,” he said again, his bony finger shaking as he again pointed at me.
I smiled. Pops took his job of van watching very seriously. Besides Greg’s cinnamon rolls and a couple of pastries for Silas to share with Billy, I bought Pops an egg-and-cheese-filled croissant and a large cup of coffee.
As Silas, Wainwright, and I started towards home, Pops bit into the breakfast sandwich. Even with his mouth full, he kept mumbling about the van.
I had just settled in at my desk at Woobie when my cell phone rang for the second time that morning. Retrieving it from my purse, I saw it was Dev. Ten minutes later, I was back in my car, racing for Hoag Hospital.
“I got here as fast as I could,” I whispered to Dev Frye as I entered the hospital room. In the bed, attached to tubes and monitors, was Lisa Luke. Her eyes were closed, her complexion pasty. She looked dead. Only the beeps of the monitors, one after another in a march of comfort, told me she wasn’t. Slumped in a chair next to the bed was a haggard-looking young man. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. I recognized him from the photos in Lisa’s apartment. It was Kirk Thomas, Laurie’s fiancé.
Dev took me by the arm, and not very gently. “Let’s talk outside.”
He took me out of the room and set our course for a quiet corner outfitted with vending machines and sofas. There was a man and an old woman seated on one sofa, so he aimed us at a bank of windows away from them.
He didn’t speak for a few minutes. From the set of his jaw, I knew better than to open my mouth. Dev Frye is an imposing man, standing well over six feet tall and built like a tank. When I first met him, his full head of tight curly hair was blond mixed with gray. Now it’s mostly gray mixed with blond. His voice is gravelly and deep and belies his sweet, tender nature. We met when he was assigned to investigate the death of my friend Sophie London. In fact, I met Dev Frye and Greg Stevens at the same time, and for a while the three of us were involved in a very polite love triangle.
Dev, a widow, is currently dating a lovely schoolteacher from Irvine named Beverly. The last time I’d see him had been at our home for Greg’s birthday. It had been shortly after Laurie Luke’s murder—before I’d gotten involved. Now that I was involved, I didn’t expect to see so much of Dev’s tender nature. Being a cop, he didn’t like the fact that I got mixed up in murder investigations from time to time. Being a personal friend, he hated it as much, if not more, than Zee. He was one of the people who looked after me but wished he didn’t have to.
Arriving at the windows, he dropped his death grip on my upper arm and gazed out at nothing in particular.
“Would you please tell me,” he started, keeping his voice in low gear, “why Lisa Luke, suicide attempt and sister of a murder victim, has your name on her lips as soon as she regains consciousness?”
“Suicide ? Is she going to be okay?”
“Took a boatload of sleeping pills, but the doc says she’ll make a complete recovery. Lucky for her, Laurie’s fiancé stopped by the apartment and still has a key.”
Tears filled my eyes. “That poor girl. I knew she was distraught over her sister’s murder, but I had no idea she’d go this far.”
“Which leads me back to my original line of questioning.” He cleared his throat. “Why does Lisa Luke even know you? Can’t one murder happen in Orange County without your involvement?”
I shifted on my feet as I weighed my words. “I went to Lisa’s home in my capacity as one of the leaders of Reality Check.” Okay, so it was a lie, but only a partial one. “Lisa is part of the morning walking group.” Okay, that was the truth, albeit stretched like a rubber band. I paused and added for effect, “I even have Laurie’s cat at my place because it was too painful for Lisa to have it around.”
Dev grabbed both of my shoulders and spun me around so that I was forced to look him in the face, or rather the chest. With one hand, he cupped my chin and lifted it upward, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“Tell me the truth. Are you looking into who murdered Laurie Luke?”
“Not exactly.”
Dev unhanded me and spun back around towards the window, where he remained quiet for a moment. It crossed my mind to take the opportunity to slink away on my rubber-soled flats, but before I could make up my mind, Dev spun back around in my direction.
“Damn it, Odelia!”
People nearby raised their heads and stared at us. The old woman and young man rose from the sofa and moved to another area.
“Dev, I promise you that I am not looking for the Blond Bomber.”
“Then what exactly are you doing? And why doesn’t Greg have better control over you?”
I bristled. “First of all, Greg married me. He doesn’t own me and control me like he does his dog.” Dev looked down at the index finger I was shaking at him. I hadn’t even realized I was doing so. After folding the digit back into my hand, I lowered my arm. “Secondly,” I continued, “while I appreciate your concern, it’s my business what I’m doing, not yours.”
“Not if it involves my case.”
“But it doesn’t really. I’m just helping out a friend, and talking to Lisa Luke was part of it. And Lisa Luke really is a member of the Reality Check walking group.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that Lisa’s sister was a recent murder victim?”
I looked up at Dev and quickly looked away. No matter how I tried, I knew I wouldn’t be able to boldly lie to this man and get away with it—on many levels. He was professionally trained to read people, and he knew me too well. He’d know I was lying in a nanosecond. I also respected him too much to try. But I still didn’t think it was a great idea to let him know about Brian Eddy and Lil.
I looked back up at Dev. “No, it’s not a coincidence. Part of helping my friend involved talking to Laurie Luke’s sister. But,” I quickly added, “I assure you that I am not looking for the Blond Bomber.”
“Who is your friend, and what is the favor?”
“I don’t want to say.”
“Odeliaaaaa.” My name came out of him from his gut, like an earthquake rumble from the center of the earth. “How about I take you in for questioning?”
“You wouldn’t!”
He fixed his eyes on mine. Oh yes, he would. I twitched my nose at him.
Dev brought two cups of coffee over to the table. We had moved to the hospital cafeteria. It made me think of a time past when he and I sat in this same room discussing the murder of my friend Sophie London. Dev’s wife had been a patient here then. Now, here we were again, once more talking about murder.
“So, what’s up?” he asked after taking his first sip. I played with my cup but didn’t drink. I was busy trying to figure out what I was going to say without spilling the whole pot of beans.
“A friend of mine has a theory about the Blond Bomber.”
“But you said you weren’t looking for the Blond Bomber.”
“I’m not. She’s worried that someone she knows might be the killer. She doesn’t have any proof that he is, but she doesn’t have any proof that he’s not. She wants me to find proof that he’s not.” I fiddled more with my coffee mug. “So, see, I’m not really looking for the Blond Bomber, just proof that this guy is not him.”
“And who is this guy?”
“That I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“Odelia.” He narrowed his eyes at me. I held firm.
“I mean it, Dev. If I tell you, and the police haul him in and it leaks to the press, it could ruin him. My friend doesn’t want that.” Dev kept me in his sights. Pushing my muddled brain to perform,
I pled my case. “Remember that guy who was first accused of bombing the Olympics in Atlanta?”
“Richard Jewell.”
“Yes, that’s the man. Turned out he was innocent, but that suspicion hung over him the rest of his life. People don’t remember the innocent part, just the suspect part.”
Dev took a couple gulps of coffee while he gave the issue some thought. I sipped my own and waited.
“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “are you willing to tell me why your friend suspects this guy of possibly being the serial killer?”
“He knew most of the victims from online chat. I don’t know yet if he knew Laurie Luke.”
“But you intend to find out.”
“That’s part of it, yes. Though from talking with Lisa, Laurie didn’t strike me as the sort who spent time idly chatting online.”
Dev considered me in silence. I squirmed under his gaze, relieved when he finally spoke. “If those women frequented the same chat rooms, it’s quite possible a lot of men knew them all.”
“And met them in person?”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “You know for a fact that this guy met them?”
“My friend said he told her he did, at least a couple of them.”
“Unfortunately, all of the dead women were meeting men online and setting up dates, including the teen. And I’m sure some jokers are out there, claiming they knew them.” He drained his coffee. “Just because the papers claim an Internet connection doesn’t mean there is one, Odelia. We don’t tell the media everything.”
“Speaking of Lisa, did she say why she tried to kill herself? Did she leave a note?”
“That was a very clunky and obvious change in subject, even for you.” Dev smiled at me for the first time since I’d rushed into Lisa’s hospital room. “And don’t think for a minute we’re through on the subject of the Blond Bomber, but Lisa did leave a note. She’s claiming responsibility for her sister’s death.”
“Her responsibility? That doesn’t make sense.”
Dev shrugged. “Apparently, it was Lisa who was chatting online, not Laurie. And Lisa was passing out her sister’s photo as her own.”
I sank back against my chair. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Dev got up. “You want more coffee?” I shook my head. He refilled his own mug and returned to our table.
“We talked to her a few minutes before she fell asleep. She’s sure if she hadn’t done that, her sister would still be alive. Said she told men online she worked at Hoag Hospital and thinks the killer stalked the hospital until he matched the photo.”
I leaned forward. “Do you believe that?”
He took a sip of coffee and shook his head as he swallowed. “No.” He paused and pulled out a pack of gum, fiddling with the wrapper. “There’s been another body found in Laguna Canyon, very early this morning, about dawn. It’s probably all over the news by now.”
“The Blond Bomber?”
Dev looked away, then back to me, then away again, forgetting about the gum in his hand. He was obviously thinking something over. “He wrote something on the body.”
“Whore, like the others?”
“No. This time it was different.” Dev looked back at me. “This time, he wrote Last one not mine.”
“But what does it mean?” My mind whirred like a roulette wheel until the little ball that was my brain stopped on a possible answer. “Oh my gawd, Dev. Does this mean the Blond Bomber didn’t kill Laurie Luke?”
“The killer’s definitely trying to tell us something.” Dev looked directly at me, eyeball to eyeball. “For reasons I’m not going to disclose, we’ve always thought the Luke girl was a copycat. Now we’re pretty damn sure.”
My eyes popped wide open as my brain went into another spinning action and landed on another possibility. I swallowed hard. “This last girl, was she also a nurse?”
“Yeah, in a doctor’s office—name’s Amber.”
The hand clutching my coffee mug started shaking ever so slightly. Dev noticed it immediately.
“Damn it, Odelia, please tell me you have no connection to this girl.”
There was no doubt about it: Amber the dead nurse and Amber of Dr. Eddy’s office were one and the same. Dev confirmed it after I told him that I just had an appointment with Dr. Brian Eddy, and he had a blond bombshell nurse named Amber.
He had looked at me with frank skepticism. “You simply met this woman during a doctor’s appointment?”
I nodded.
Dev unwrapped the gum in his hand and popped it into his mouth. He gave it a few thoughtful chews before speaking again. “Isn’t that just too much of a coinkydink?”
I didn’t care for the sarcasm in his voice.
“What are you saying, Dev? I went to see a doctor. It just so happens this poor woman was his nurse, and she was memorable, a complete knockout.”
“Did you ever meet Laurie Luke?”
“No.”
“How about Crystal Lee Harper?”
“No.”
“Ah-ha! But you know who Crystal Lee Harper was, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. One of the killer’s victims. I read the paper and listen to the news just like everyone else, Dev.”
With great reluctance, Dev gave up his questioning of me and we went back to Lisa’s room. Kirk was awake now, standing in front of the window, looking out. Lisa was still asleep. Dev introduced me and left, but not before ordering me to rethink whatever I was doing or involved with, and to rethink telling him whatever I knew or might know.
With Amber dead, I was rethinking everything. Last night Knotdead had told Perfect4u that he had ended his current relationship that same night. He hadn’t disclosed who he was seeing, but thanks to La Tanya, I knew that he was involved with Amber, if not possibly others. Had Brian Eddy ended their relationship with murder, or was Amber’s death just an unfortunate coinkydink? My gut, rocking and rolling now from nerves, was still telling me that Brian Eddy was not the Blond Bomber, but possible evidence to the contrary had now presented itself. Should I tell Dev or wait a little while longer? But what if another woman died? What then?
A thought occurred to me. I stepped out of Lisa’s room and hit Dev’s speed dial number on my cell phone.
“Dev,” I said, as soon as he answered, “do you folks have any idea when Amber was killed?”
“If you two just had a chance meeting, why would you care?”
Sigh.
“It could help me prove that my friend’s suspicions about the Blond Bomber are wrong.” I paused, then added, “And I promise you that if the evidence points to this person as the killer, you will be the very first person I tell.”
Now it was Dev’s turn to sigh. “It’s not exact, of course, but the M.E. thinks she died sometime between eight and midnight.”
“Eight and midnight,” I repeated. “Hmmm. You can’t pin that down a little more?”
“This isn’t TV, Odelia, this is real life and a real murder.” If Dev wasn’t such a gentleman, I’m sure he would have hung up on me, but instead, he just probed. “Does this prove or disprove your friend’s theory?”
“I’m not sure yet
, but I think it might put her suspicions to rest.”
“Good. The sooner you’re out of the favor business, the better.”
Lisa was awake when I returned to the room. Kirk was back in the chair at the side of her bed, holding her hand. He was dressed in jeans and a white tee shirt with a heavy denim shirt worn open over the tee shirt. His blond hair was unkempt; his face, which sported a few days’ growth, was distorted in anguish. I remained at the door, not wanting to intrude.
“Please forgive me, Lisa.” Kirk’s voice was ragged when he spoke.
“Forgive you?” she asked in a weak voice. “I’m the one who needs forgiving.” Lisa closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look at him again. “How can you even stand to be near me after what I’ve done?”
“You did nothing wrong, Lisa. You have to believe that. I’m …” Kirk stopped when he noticed me at the door.
Lisa looked in my direction and gave me a small smile. “Odelia.”
I approached the bed. “How are you feeling, Lisa?”
Kirk released her hand and sat back in his chair. His eyes were hollow, his face like chalk. Losing his fiancée and now nearly her sister had obviously taken their toll.
“Horrible, that’s how I feel.” Her voice was raspy as she spoke.
“Detective Frye is a friend of mine. He told me you’re going to be fine.”
“I feel horrible because I’m alive, Odelia. Because I failed … like I fail at everything.” The words came out of her like bile, harsh and bitter.
“Don’t say that, Lisa.” Kirk was once more holding her hand. Lisa slipped it out of his grasp.
“It’s the truth, Kirk. I’m the reason Laurie was murdered. I should be dead, not her. I’d do anything to trade places.”
Lisa looked at me. “I was the one talking to men on the Internet, not Laurie. I gave out her picture instead of my own.” She started to sob. “I led that monster to her.” She turned her face away, trying to bury it in the pillow.
“Shhh.” I plucked a tissue from a small box on the nightstand and gently dabbed at her cheeks. “You did no such thing.”
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