Soon, we were on our way. I wasn’t sure, but my guess was that we were heading to rendezvous with Harper at Seventh Veil. As much as I didn’t relish being transported like a side of meat to the market, I was thankful we were moving away from my car and Silas. Dev or the police should be here soon and would find the boy. Silas, if he was paying attention, might be able to give them some information.
I had wanted time to think through what was going on, and now I had it. From Lisa’s place, it was a forty-five minute to an hour drive to Seventh Veil Costuming, providing traffic moved at a reasonable rate. Although my brain would have worked better sitting at my kitchen table unfettered by duct tape, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
What was it about that damn cat? In my brain, I methodically ran down what I knew, or thought I knew. Kirk was smuggling diamonds for Harper. Laurie had been killed by Harper, held by him in order to strong-arm Kirk into fulfilling his commitment. Kirk had given the cat to Laurie as a gift, and now Harper and his minions wanted the animal. The first thing I’d done as soon as Muffin had come into our home was check her over for fleas using a special comb. I’d found nothing unusual about her. She was healthy, her limbs sound, her fur sleek and flea free. Until Laurie died, she’d been very well cared for, loved and regularly groomed.
Riding like a sack of potatoes in the back of the SUV, I went over every possibility, from the obvious to the ridiculous. A groan tried to escape my taped lips as I realized an oversight on my part. Maybe it wasn’t the cat everyone was hunting for, but the cat’s collar—the heavy, handmade leather collar. The collar that seemed unusual for a young cat and that bothered the animal so much we finally took it off of her. The collar that now resided in the nightstand drawer next to our bed. I wasn’t sure about my theory that the collar held the missing diamonds, but I was fresh out of other ideas and it seemed plausible, though pretty stupid. If Muffin had gotten outside and disappeared, so would the diamonds. Would someone really be so lame as to hide diamonds on something attached to four swift feet?
I mentally put a star next to the collar idea and moved on to other thoughts. If I could stumble upon some other solid connections, maybe I could use them to bargain for our lives. Knowledge is power, and right now all I had were a lot of semi-connected dots.
Supposing Kirk had hidden diamonds in the cat’s collar, my next question was whether or not he had acted alone. Did Laurie know about it? Lisa didn’t seem to think so. Then again, maybe Lisa was in on it and had been from the start. Maybe she had a reason to feel guilty about her sister’s death other than flashing her photo around the Internet. The next suspect to float across my brain as it bounced along on the floor of the vehicle was Jane Sharp. Jane had been having an affair with Kirk Thomas, and Jane also knew Gordon Harper. Had Jane been the link between Kirk and Harper? Had she been the one to link up the two men in the first place? That was a distinct possibility. And, if so, and she was on the run, she might be running from Gordon Harper and not the Blond Bomber. Maybe even both.
It was likely that the Blond Bomber was being used as a convenient pawn in this whole matter. Laurie’s death had mimicked the style of the Blond Bomber’s except for some details. And the Blond Bomber had let the world know specifically that her body was not his handiwork when he scrawled his message across Amber’s corpse. Call me crazy, but it didn’t seem smart to piss off a serial killer.
I glanced over at Lisa. Her eyes were closed, and she was very still. I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or unconscious. She had received a nasty blow to her head and might have a concussion. I gently nudged her. When I received no response, I kicked her again a little harder. The second kick reaped a muffled groan from behind her taped mouth, and her eyes began to flutter. I nudged her leg again with one of my feet, and her eyes came open and stayed open. After a few seconds, they focused on my eyes. Eye to eye, I willed her to stay awake.
I strained to hear any conversation from the front seat, but there was none that I could make out. Maria Santiago and Harper’s hired gun had little, if anything, to say to each other. Eventually, I felt the SUV slow down, followed by the vehicle taking a wide curve to the right. We must be taking an off-ramp. As much as I wanted to try to lift myself up and flag down help, I knew it would be fruitless. The windows of the SUV were tinted so that no one could see inside. From my position, I could see sky dotted with power lines and trees passing by through the side and hatch windows.
Turning and twisting my wrists, I tried to loosen the tape. It gave a little, but not much. I needed something sharp to rub the tape against, but saw nothing convenient. It crossed my mind to scrunch down close to the hatch opening and kick out as soon as the door was opened. But I doubted I could kick hard enough to do any damage and was pretty sure Maria would still be holding a gun on us when we exited. Instead, I just continued to twist and turn my wrists, hoping to loosen the tape even further.
It wasn’t long before I felt the vehicle turn again, then stop. A moment later, it continued on its way. There were a few successive stops and starts, which I was pretty sure indicated intersections with stop signs or signals. Eventually, the vehicle made a slow right turn, then traveled very slowly past a building. From my vantage point, the building looked a lot like the one that housed Seventh Veil.
I felt the SUV turn slightly, then stop before backing up. As it backed up, more of the building came into view. We were in the belly of the U-shaped parking area of the building, the area where deliveries were made and where I saw Kirk Thomas being shoved around. With some effort, I raised myself enough to look out the window and confirm that we were in the parking area at the costume factory. Before dropping back down to my back, I glimpsed Harper’s Mercedes.
Lisa had drifted off again. I kicked her softly, and her eyes opened. She’d been crying, and her eyes and nose were runny. She closed her eyes again, and I knew that she’d given up hope of coming out of this alive. But I hadn’t, not until a bullet pierced my brain or my neck was snapped in two.
When the hatch opened, the goon grabbed my ankles and pulled me out of the vehicle halfway, then he grabbed my taped wrists and yanked me to my feet. Immediately, I collapsed to my knees on the pavement, supported like a tripod by my taped hands. Lisa was hauled out next in the same fashion. She also fell to the ground but landed prone, facedown on the asphalt.
I was pulled to a standing position first and ordered to stay standing. Lisa was grabbed by the collar of her sweatshirt and pulled up next to me. Her nose was bloody from her fall, her cheek scraped by gravel. As soon as she was on her feet, she slid to the ground again, her eyes closed.
While Maria Santiago stood guard over us with the gun, the henchman disappeared through a side door positioned next to the roll-type delivery door on the loading dock. He returned almost immediately with a cart, a long platform on four wheels generally used for hauling several boxes at a time. He dumped the half-conscious Lisa onto the cart and started pushing it through the door. Maria told me to follow. She and the gun brought up the rear.
Inside, we were greeted with an eerie silence. We were in the factory part of Seventh Veil, but the hum of industry I’d heard during my earlier visit was absent. The lights were on but the place was empty of workers. Colorful costumes in various stages of completion hung in clusters here and there at various stations throughout the large, cluttered area. To my right, I saw a couple of commercial pressing machines. Over to my left, a row of sewing machines, each one with a rack of garments next to it. Feathers and rolls of cloth and boxes containing other materials were in another corner of the large area near worktables. More rolls of fabric were against the back wall. Scraps of fabric littered the floor.
Our little parade made its way through various aisles. Along the way, I kept my eyes peeled for possible escape routes. Except for a few very distinct aisles, the place was as confusing as a rabbit warren. We halted in front of a large elevator. Next to it was a staircase going up. The muscle hit a button, and the doors opened. He indicated fo
r me to enter. As soon as I was inside, he pushed Lisa and the cart in, trapping me against the back wall. Maria Santiago was the last to enter. There were only two buttons on the panel, one for the first floor and a button for the second. Maria put a key into a lock on the panel and pushed the button for the second floor. The doors closed, and the lift started to rise.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, a different scene presented itself. Instead of a cluttered work area, the four of us faced a large apartment. It was decorated simply and fashionably, using soothing colors and fabrics and elegant, comfortable-looking furniture. The elevator opened up onto a great room, with a living room to the left and a large open kitchen to the right. The living room had two very large windows that looked out over the back parking lot. Directly across from the elevator, on the other side of the room, was an open door leading to a hallway, and no doubt the sleeping quarters. This had to be Crystal Lee’s personal apartment that Effie had mentioned.
“Welcome, ladies.”
At the sound of Gordon Harper’s squeaky voice, my stomach knotted up. I didn’t see him until he lifted himself out of a deep armchair. As soon as we filed out of the elevator, Harper came over to take stock of his captives.
He jerked his head towards the hallway. “Take Miss Luke to the spare room and put her on the bed,” he said to his hired gun. “Leave her bound and stay with her. I’ll tend to her later.” Without a word, the big man wheeled the moaning Lisa through the door and disappeared.
Gordon Harper watched them go before turning to me. “You, my dear, should take a seat.”
With a gallant gesture, Harper indicated the chair he had just vacated. I walked over to it and plopped myself down. Maria stood sentry nearby, the gun steady and pointed at my chest.
Harper walked over to where I was sitting. With one quick movement, he ripped the tape from my mouth. My lips thanked me for having the good sense to pull them in before the tape was placed. I breathed through my mouth several times before I ran my tongue around my lips and rubbed them together.
“Well, Odelia,” Harper began. He pulled a chair close to me and sat down. “You’re quite a busy bee, aren’t you?”
I just looked at him, keeping my mouth shut as if it were still taped.
“Did you ever find out who the Blond Bomber is?”
“You mean it’s not you?” I looked him directly in the eye. “I know you killed Laurie Luke.”
I was ninety-nine percent sure Gordon Harper wasn’t the serial killer, but maybe he knew who was and my question would prod him into telling me.
He raised an eyebrow in my direction, then it dropped, and suddenly he looked sad. “Beautiful woman, the Luke girl. She looked so much like my Crystal. Her death was actually an accident.”
“An accident? I thought you grabbed her as an incentive for Kirk Thomas—to make him do what you needed.”
In a flash, the sadness was gone, replaced by amusement. “That I did, though I’m surprised and very impressed that you know that much. It’s also a pity you do.” He paused and looked me over. “Because I like you. You and your husband seem like nice people. Too bad you couldn’t keep your nose out of my business.” He squeaked out a chuckle. “It’s also too bad you won’t be wearing that costume you ordered.”
“You going to palm off my death on the Blond Bomber, like you did Laurie’s? I’m hardly his type.”
“Ah-ha.” Harper’s face lit up with interest. “So you do know that I’m not the serial killer.”
I nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s one thing you’re not. You might be a killer and a crook, but you’re not the Blond Bomber.”
“And did you find out who is?” When I said nothing, he leaned forward in his chair. “Telling me his identity will buy you your freedom.”
“You’ll let me go if I tell you?”
“Yes, I will—providing, of course, you also fulfill other requirements.”
I didn’t like the sound of his addendum. I looked over at Maria Santiago but her face was a blank, her eyes trained on my face, the gun on my chest.
I gave Gordon Harper a tight smile. “Like any contract, yours comes with small print.” It was a statement, not a question.
He laughed his squeaky laugh. On any other man, it would have come out as a hearty bark.
“This is a business transaction, Odelia. You have something I need. Two somethings, actually. And I have something you need: your life.”
“So how much is my life going to cost me?”
Harper leaned back in his chair and studied me before answering. “The name of the Blond Bomber and the cat.”
“Sure you don’t mean the Blond Bomber and the cat’s collar? Or more to the point, the Blond Bomber and the diamonds?”
Harper gave me a broad smile. “That’s exactly the price of your life right now. Can you pay it? Think quick before the price goes up.”
Right—like this gangster would let me go, knowing what I know about him and his dealings. I didn’t trust him to make good on his end of the bargain. I had to stall.
“The Blond Bomber and the diamonds for my life and Lisa’s.”
Harper laughed again. He turned to Maria. “Her life is in the balance and she’s negotiating for a package deal. Now that’s chutzpah.” He turned back to me. “Or stupidity.”
I twitched my nose. I might be behaving in a stupid manner, but I was running out of options.
“I understand about the diamonds, but why do you want to know who the Blond Bomber is?”
Gordon Harper rose from his chair and paced across the carpet. He finally stopped, coming to rest behind the chair he had vacated. He gripped the back of the chair, his face flushed and splotchy.
“Because when I find the bastard who took Crystal from me, I’m going to draw and quarter him and tie him to a tree in Laguna Canyon.”
“Personally, I don’t think that’s such a bad idea.”
He gave me a tight-lipped conspiratorial grin.
“But what makes you think I know who the killer is?”
Still smiling, Harper gently shook a meaty finger in my direction. “Because I’ve been keeping my eye on you. You’ve been nosing around, talking to people. If you don’t know who the bastard is, you have an idea.”
“Actually, I’m clueless.” I hoped my honesty didn’t get me killed on the spot, but I was fresh out of bluffs. “All my suspicions have met dead ends. One thing, though—I know who it’s not.”
Harper’s smile vanished. “Don’t screw with me, Odelia.”
“I’m not, Gordon. Whoever the Blond Bomber is, he’s connected somehow to Jane Sharp, the decorator. That’s all I know.”
“Jane Sharp?”
I nodded. “Yes, all of the victims looked like her and all of them were connected with her in some fashion, mostly through jobs she’d done.”
He stared at me in disbelief.
“Did you see the news about the last victim, Madeline Sparks?”
He nodded. I continued.
“Madeline had short red hair. Jane recently cut her hair and dyed it red. Whoever the killer is, he’s ultimately after Jane. The sicko’s toying with her and enjoying it.”
Harper didn’t say anything. He just stood glued to the carpet while he processed the information I just spilled. I twisted my hands slightly, trying to loosen my bonds.
“I need to pee,” I announced.
Maria just stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The gun must have been getting heavy in her outstretched hand because she was using her other hand now to balance it. Her eyes shifted from me to Harper and back to me.
“Gordon.” I tried to get him to refocus on me. “I said, I need to go to the bathroom.”
He came out of his thoughts and looked at me. Without saying a word, he retrieved a small knife from the kitchen and cut the tape around my wrists. It felt good to have two hands again. I rubbed my wrists and flexed them.
“The bathroom is down the hall.” He turned to Maria. “
Go with her.”
Maria came with me every step of the way. The bathroom was down a hallway on the left. Across from the bathroom was an open door, and through it I could see a king-size bed, dresser, and chair. The room was decorated as simply as the living room. It looked like the master bedroom. Glancing in, I saw it was empty. At the end of the hall was a closed door. I guessed it to be another bedroom and probably where the goon had taken Lisa.
The bathroom was large but seemed like a cell when Maria pushed her way in behind me.
I turned to her. “Is this really necessary?”
In response, she narrowed her eyes at me. Sheesh, I don’t even pee in front of Greg, and I’m supposed to do my business in front of a stranger?
Although I did need to use the bathroom, I was also hoping it would buy me time to think and devise a plan. I had to get to Lisa and find a way out. Maria had used an elevator key to get to this floor, but usually elevators only need the key to open the doors to a particular floor, not to leave one. At the office, our security cards will open the elevator on the floors occupied by Woobie after hours, but we don’t need the card to leave. I was hoping it was the same in this case.
As discreetly as possible, I undid the front of my pants and got down to emptying my bladder, dawdling as best I could and avoiding eye contact with my guard. The Santiago woman didn’t seem like the type who could be swayed to chat about her boss, but it was worth a try. I turned my head to look at her and the gun.
“So, you come here often?” I kept my voice low so as not to carry the sound through the door.
“Hurry up,” she ordered, not keeping her voice down.
“Why? So I can get to the business of dying sooner?”
She remained silent.
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