“Ms. Ortiz,” Cadena held up his hand as if to halt her progress. “FBI Agents Navarro and Neely are setting up—”
“Great, but I have vital information for you.” She displayed the sheet of paper. “The new housekeeper is not who she claims to be, and she might have taken Sean.”
“How do you know?” They entered Chuck’s office, and the detective gestured for Lela to continue.
The FBI agents stationed themselves just inside the door.
Not intimidated by the suits or stern stances, Lela explained her theory. “First of all, I’ve been working on another case that involves a woman named Margie Knox.”
“Huh?”
Ignoring Jay's comment, she pointed to the DMV photo. “This is Margie, not Patricia Jenkins. When you view the security tape of the front door, you’ll see her wheeling a large suitcase that we think holds Sean.”
Navarro, the short, stocky female agent, eyed Lela up and down. “Ms. Ortiz, Detective Cadena has told us about your involvement. We will view all the security footage and come to our own conclusions. We don’t let amateurs tell us how to conduct our business.”
Clamping her mouth shut, Lela swallowed her words.
The two agents conversed quietly. Then Navarro turned and marched from the office.
Neely adjusted his tie. “Um, Ms. Ortiz, as my colleague mentioned, we know of your connection to IRO and your assignment to Mr. Davenport’s kidnapping. The hiring of a new housekeeper who happens to be a person of interest to you is too much of a coincidence.”
“I agree. I don’t understand why Margie…” She pursed her lips, and her knees buckled. Good thing the sofa was right behind her. “My mother. She must have—”
“What about your mother?” Jay asked, sitting next to her.
Folding her arms, Lela let out a prolonged sigh. “I don’t give my family details on any case I’m working, but Mama has an uncanny ability to sniff out facts. She devours the news searching for situations that might require IRO services.”
“And how does this relate to Margie Knox?” Neely’s narrowed eyes indicated his impatience.
“Margie and my mother were friends in high school. When they reconnected recently, Margie asked Mama if I could help her. Mama might have told her I was working on the Davenport case.” Lela hiked a shoulder. “If it’s not a coincidence, then this is my fault. I’ll have to tell my mother not to discuss any case she may think I’m working.”
Jay slid his arm around her. “I don’t think it is your fault.”
Although reassuring, his gesture did little to relieve her guilt.
“Send me all the data you have on this Knox woman. She must have had help getting a fraudulent driver’s license, and I assume fake references, on such short notice.” Neely jutted his chin toward Lela and handed her a business card. “Use this e-mail address. From what you know of her, do you think she’ll demand a ransom?”
Rising from the sofa, Lela shrugged. “I have no idea. She did collect on a huge life insurance policy when her husband died. The more I know about Margie, the more I believe she’s unstable. My research revealed she accused a neighbor of bombarding her house with gamma rays. No telling what she’ll do next. I’ll send you everything I have on her. Do you need us any longer?”
“No. We have your contact information.”
Lela gestured to Jay and said, “Let’s go.” She made a beeline for the stairs. “I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh. What now?”
“First, I’ll send all my Margie research to Neely, but let me tell you what I know.” She gave Jay a summary of Margie’s possible involvement in the deaths of four barbers. “If Margie has lost touch with reality, she might have assumed I know more than I do and took Sean to get even with me.” Lela entered her bedroom and sat on the bed, her laptop open.
“You’re suggesting Sean’s disappearance has nothing to do with Chuck?”
“Right. Margie wants to distract me from investigating the barbers’ deaths. Problem is, we—Sadie at IRO is helping me—don’t know where she is. Margie moved out of her rental house, and we haven’t located her.” Lela attached the appropriate files to the agent’s e-mail address and clicked send. She closed her laptop, her mind running a marathon. “Want to try out my theory?”
“Sure.” He paused a split second. “What is it?”
Side-by-side, they descended the stairs. “What if Margie persists in her mission against barbers? If her mental state is declining, she may have taken Sean to a barbershop.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. How did you jump to that conclusion?”
Three steps from the bottom, Lela stopped. “Do you want me to review my research again? I’m not jumping anywhere. Margie’s not thinking rationally as far as I can tell.”
He didn’t budge. “I still don’t see the connection.”
“Come with me anyway. Please.”
“Fine, but if Margie tries the poisoned candy on Sean, it won’t work. He doesn’t like chocolate.”
At the base of the stairs, Lela said, “Go check on your family and Olivia. I’ll have a word with Cadena then meet you at my pickup.”
Jay gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up sign and turned into the living room.
Heated voices drifted through the open door of Chuck’s office.
Lela poked her head around the frame. “Excuse me.”
“We have everything under control, Ortiz.” Navarro raised her gaze in Lela’s direction.
Glancing at Cadena, who had treated her with respect, Lela said, “Jay and I are following a hunch.”
“A hunch? You take care of your little investigation while we tackle the real threat.” Navarro removed her red reading glasses and pointed them at Lela. “We watched the security footage and agree the housekeeper’s actions are suspicious. But right now, we’re focusing on the gardener.” Condescension laced her voice.
Are we in junior high? Lela harrumphed and stormed down the hall. Weren’t they all on the same team? Yeah, she’d considered the gardener, but the bag he lugged so casually was likely full of leaves. If it held a body, the thin plastic would have ripped over the stony path.
On the way to her pickup, she paused. Was Navarro right? No. Let the FBI investigate Tony.
Her money remained on Margie.
55
Head full of conflicting ideas, gut muscles knotted, and heart in pieces, Jay trudged to Lela’s truck. He shouldn’t have believed Walter’s last message. If he’d stayed close to the house, Sean would be safe. He thumped his chest before climbing into the passenger seat. It’s my fault.
“Come on. Close your door. Let’s go.” Lela revved the engine.
“No.”
“Why? I thought you were with me on this?”
Arms crossed, he shook his head. “At first the enthusiasm you had for your theory about Margie carried me along. It made sense for a minute or two, but the more I think about her and the barbers, the less I can accept she played a role in Sean’s disappearance.”
Lela killed the engine. “At least we’ll be doing something. Would you rather stay here and watch the Feds take over?”
“I have another idea. I want to return to Lewis’s place.”
“But we searched the area for hours.”
Squinting helped him envision the house, the field across the street. “I can’t explain why I want to go back.”
Lela squirmed and checked her watch. “There’s no evidence that his house has anything to do with Sean. Do what you want, Mr. Vashon. I’m checking on barbershops in the area. In or out? Time’s a wasting.”
“Wait, wait.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Can’t we discuss the possibility that I’m right and you’re wrong?”
The scowl she leveled at him could have burned a hole in wood. “I’m seldom wrong, but go ahead. Discuss away. I’m driving out of here in two seconds.”
He yanked her keys from the ignition as he eyeballed her. “You don’t make mistakes? I find that hard to be
lieve. Have all your cases ended positively?”
Her gaze continued to send a heatwave in his direction. She said nothing and shrugged.
“Aha. You haven’t always succeeded.”
She lowered her head. “OK, so I like to do things my way, on my own.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“I’ve had a few close calls.” She straightened in the seat, no longer baited by his questions. “Hey, enough about my past. Quit stalling. You can evaluate my job performance another time. Bowen told me to work with you. Here you are, in my truck, and we need to go.”
Jay closed the door, and studied her face flushed with anger and maybe a twitch of remorse. “You were right the other night when you said we’re a lot alike. Sure, I have a hard time taking orders, especially when I think they’re rash. This time—”
“You think my idea is bunk? Give me my keys. I’m searching for Sean in the only places I can think of right now. Take it or leave it. You don’t have to follow my orders, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go. Now.” She held out her hand, her lips in a thin line.
“Please indulge me. Tell me again why you think Margie’s taken Sean to a barbershop.”
Brows raised in disbelief, Lela sighed. “OK. I’ll rehash. Margie has a vendetta against barbers. You saw that suitcase she wheeled out of the house. Don’t you agree Sean could have been inside?”
He nodded.
“If my mother told her about me working Chuck’s abduction, she’s smart enough to conclude Sean’s disappearance would certainly divert my attention from her.”
“And the housekeeping job?”
“If Margie is as cunning as I believe, perhaps she blackmailed Ilsa or threatened her. I can see her doing something devious to gain access to the house.”
“But why Sean? The very kid Walter included in his threat.”
“She probably doesn’t know the severity of his behavioral issues. She might have viewed him as easy pickings. Younger, less verbal than the girls.”
Jay relaxed into the seat. What could he do on his own? He had to admit IRO’s resources outmatched any he could muster. Even if he’d called former Marine buddies, what could they do to find Sean or locate Chuck before the ransom delivery date? Gathering intel would take too much time. A commodity he didn’t have.
Aware of Lela fuming beside him, he ignored her heavy breaths and agitated movements. Think, Vashon. He closed his eyes. During their evening chat, he’d told Lela to ask for God’s guidance. In every aspect of her life. What better time to put his words into action?
“Please God, guide us in our quest to find Sean.”
Eyes open, he handed the keys to Lela.
After all, what could he lose? At worst, they’d visit a slew of barbershops. At best, they’d locate Margie and Sean.
56
Of all the knuckleheaded things to do, why did Jay choose that particular time to question her decisions? Her authority? Lela checked the dashboard clock. His arguing had delayed their departure by at least fifteen minutes. Anger and sullenness would only contribute to the already tense atmosphere in the cab. She blew out a long breath as she drove through the gate and manufactured a civil tone. “Let’s get back on track. First, how’s Olivia?”
Jay took a moment to reply. “She’s on her way to the hospital. Mainly for observation to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. The girls and Beth are doing as well as can be expected. Mother, the champ, is keeping everyone calm.”
“Good.” The next words all but stuck in her throat. “I need your help.”
No way would she look at him in case he smirked, or grinned.
Silence.
“Well?” she asked.
“What can I do?”
“Use your phone to search for barbershops in the area. Please.”
Jay held his phone to his mouth. “Find barbershops.” Seconds later, he said, “Here we go. Ten in the La Jolla area. Are we only going to local shops?”
“For now. I don’t believe Margie will take Sean far. From the little I know about him, I doubt he accompanied her voluntarily, and he may be agitated.”
“Definitely. I’d say even frantic. Unless she sedated him.”
“I didn’t take that into consideration. Regardless, she won’t go too far.”
“Now what?”
“Get directions to the nearest location.”
“The first four are all on La Jolla Boulevard. Turn left. Then I’ll tell you when to stop.”
A mile down the road, they parked in front of the first shop. Inside Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow they found three barbers attending to customers and a waiting area full of men. Nothing untoward.
No apparent problems at the next barber shop either.
The third and fourth locations were upscale men’s salons. Although Lela doubted Margie would target such establishments, they entered anyway, but the busy shops provided no clues.
Heart sinking, Lela slid behind the steering wheel once more. Could Jay be right? Were they on a wild goose chase? But she asked anyway, “Where’s the next one?”
“Taylor Made Cuts is two blocks off the boulevard. Go north and turn right on Pearl Street then left on Fay Avenue.”
Jay’s piercing gaze cut to her for a second.
“What?” she asked before inserting the key.
“Four barbershops and no sign of Margie.”
“But there are at least six more. Right? After we’ve checked them all you can say ‘I told you so’. Until then, you only have to provide me with directions.”
Like a statue, Jay sat rigid in his seat while Lela drove to the next shop.
The row of small stores fronted the street.
“There’s the striped pole but no parking.” Lela swung into the lot on the next block.
Within seconds, they stood outside Taylor Made Cuts.
“I remember my dad telling me why barbers used that symbol.”
“You’ll have to share that story another day.” She pointed to the door. “Look at the sign in the window.”
CLOSED painted in red on a black background.
He gave her elbow a squeeze. “But the hours of operation indicate it should be open now.” Squinting, he peered through the glass. “Chairs are empty. No customers waiting.”
As she reached for the worn doorknob, an elderly man with a riot of gray hair rounded the corner from the alley between the shops.
He slowed and pointed. “Well, are you going in?”
“It’s not open.” Jay nodded to the sign.
“Supposed to be. It’s not like Jimmy to close early. I’ve known him a long time, and he always sticks to his hours. He must be sick or something.” The man shrugged then departed.
“Is the door locked?” Jay asked.
Lela turned the knob. “Yes.” Adrenaline heated her blood. “There’s something fishy here. The shop is scheduled to be open, and according to a local, it’s unusual that it’s closed.” Pressing against the window, she shielded her eyes with her hands. What was that behind the counter? Something black. It moved. “A shoe. There’s someone in there.”
“Where?” Jay looked again. “Yes, I see. He’s shifting his feet. We have to get in.”
Lela jiggled the knob, twisting and yanking. With one mighty shove the door opened.
Hand on her pistol, she entered the store.
Silence.
Then a muffled groan.
Lela gestured for Jay to check the person on the floor while she scoped out the rest of the store.
No one in the little kitchen or in the office. She returned to the main store. “How is he?” Little chocolates lay scattered near an opened box on the counter.
Jay knelt beside the middle-aged man. “He’s coming around. I think he was hit on the head.”
The barber, dressed in a short, white coat and black slacks, groaned and rubbed the back of his head. “What happened?”
“Stay still. Don’t try to sit up.” Jay fel
t the man’s pulse. “Kind of fluttery, but getting stronger. I’ll call 911.”
“And Detective Cadena.” Lela dropped to one knee next to the men and handed Jay her phone. “His number’s in there.” Then she touched the barber’s shoulder. “Who did this to you?” Although certain it was Margie, she needed confirmation. She stuffed a towel under the man’s head.
“A…woman. She, um, came in with a boy—”
“About four years old? Hollering, no doubt.” Jay turned aside and spoke to the operator.
“Uh-huh. Screaming, wriggling like he’d never had a haircut before.”
Covering the speaker on the phone, Jay said, “That’s Sean. He won’t tolerate anyone but Chuck to cut his hair.”
“Where did she go?” Standing, Lela surveyed the room as if she’d missed a cubby hole or secret door. Blood whooshing through her brain sounded like thundering waves. Margie was close.
“Out back.” He patted his side pocket. “She tried to make me eat…chocolates. The kid wouldn’t hush. Grabbed him, hit me. Before I blacked out, she…took my keys. Heard the back door open. It leads to the alley.”
“Stay with him.” Lela charged to the kitchenette, but the barber’s voice followed her.
“I’m all right.” He patted Jay's arm. “You go. That woman’s kinda wild.”
Jay followed Lela as she opened the back door. “If she has Sean, he’ll respond to me.”
“I understand. Let’s go.”
The door squeaked open. Bright sunlight showered her while the odor of rotting food assailed her nostrils.
Lela scanned both directions. Doors from the other stores lined the narrow alley. Overflowing dumpsters. A string of storage sheds. She crept toward a small building, painted blue and green that matched the walls of the barber shop.
Finger to her lips, she whispered, “Margie could be hiding in here.”
Jay nodded and stopped at her side.
An old, rusted padlock secured the door to the frame. She picked up a rock with the intention of breaking the lock, but Jay stilled her hands.
“Wait. Listen.”
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