I grinned my thanks. "I wish I had the tape to give you. I should've just knocked her down and grabbed it from her. She looked like she hadn't had a good meal in months. I know I could've taken her."
"No, you did fine." He took another drink and looked at me. The only expression on his face was exhaustion with a capital E, but I could've sworn his eyes were twinkling just the same. "She told you she gave one just like it to Sophie?"
"Yes, but we didn't find anything like that when we were packing her things. She probably hid it just like she did the newspaper clippings."
"Could it be in that box you gave the Olsens?"
"That contained mostly photos and records, flat paper stuff, except for the booties. But I'll call and ask them to look through it again."
"Good. We'll need to go through all her things. I'll get a warrant for that. Stuff still at the house in boxes?"
I nodded. "You need a warrant even if I give you permission?"
"Yes. It's probably not necessary, but it keeps things on the up and up."
"Something's bothering me, Detective." I started to tell him my concerns when I looked up to see Ruth Wise entering the cafeteria. She strolled in, scanning the place. When she spotted us, she brightened, then looked concerned. I waved her over.
"Ruth," I said, "how nice to see you. What are you doing here?"
She was dressed in a khaki skirt and plaid blouse. Her hair was down, parted on the side, and worn soft around her face. It was the first time I'd seen her out of her exercise clothing, and she looked even taller. She approached us slowly.
"I...um...came to see a friend. She just had a baby, or is about to have a baby. I came in here for some coffee," she explained, looking shyly at Frye. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Not at all, Ruth," I said, smiling. I made the introductions and the two shook hands. Ruth seemed a bit flustered around the detective.
"Well, I should leave you two to your business," Ruth said. "Will I see you on Monday, Odelia?"
"Maybe. I have the day off. Might just sleep in, though I really should walk."
"Walking will do you good, Odelia," Frye said. "As long as you don't overdo it with that bump on your head. It'll get your mind off things, rejuvenate your spirit. Isn't that right, Ruth?"
Ruth looked at him, offering a shy smile. "Yes, that's right. It's good for lots of things."
"Okay, then, I'll do my best to make it."
I watched Ruth walk away and head for the cafeteria line.
"She's such a nice young woman," I told Frye. "Only been coming to our walks a short while. I'm sorry she's seeing Reality Check in such turmoil."
He smiled slightly. "So what else is on your mind, Odelia?"
"Oh, that. It's about Clarice." I took a sip of soda. "If I was sneaking out of the country, I wouldn't be packed like I was going on safari. I'd take one carry-on and wouldn't use a limo with a full liveried driver."
He gave it some thought before answering. "I doubt when Mrs. Hollowell made the arrangements, she thought she'd run into someone just before leaving. She probably has a fake ID and passport and was just planning to blend in with the other international first-class passengers."
"You think you'll nab her before she gets on the plane?"
"Might. Thanks to you, we got the word out quickly to look for someone with that description. We're checking out the limousine companies as well. Once we find the right one, we'll know exactly where they dropped her off."
"She didn't think her husband killed Sophie or had her killed. If not him, then who was there that day?"
"That's the big question, Odelia. There are several possibilities. Might've been one of her web site playmates. Could still be the Olsens. We do know one was a woman. One thing is for sure—they've covered their tracks well."
I shoved aside the remnants of my lunch. "The only connection we have to Hollowell at this point is Glenn Thomas. He killed the only witness."
"Correct. That's why it's important to find him." Frye polished off his coffee. "I have to get going, but I want you to do something for me."
"Sure," I said, eager to assist in the case.
"I want you to go back to Greg's and stay there. At least through tomorrow. Leave the rest to us, please."
"But I can help."
"You've already done quite a bit. But I want you someplace safe. I've already spoken to Greg about it."
I felt my feathers ruffling. "What about me? Don't I get a say?"
"This time, no." Again I saw a slight dance in his blue eyes. He consulted his watch. "Greg will meet you at your place in about twenty or thirty minutes. Throw some things together, then go with him. If anything comes up, I'll call you there or on your cell phone."
Surrender wasn't something I swallowed easily. It was in the same category as okra. But I could see I was out-gunned, so I chose to behave civilly instead of childishly.
"Is your wife still here, Detective?" I asked. "Or are you here to check on Iris?"
"Both actually." He hesitated, sighing deeply. "My wife has been sick for years. She has ovarian cancer."
My heart thumped in icy fear at the dreaded words. Against my will, tears started to form. "I'm so very sorry."
His lips made an effort to give me a tired smile. "Thank you."
"What about Iris? They won't tell me much."
"It's not good, Odelia," he said, shaking his head slowly. "She's had surgery to relieve some of the pressure on her brain, but she's still in a coma. We finally managed to locate her family. They're flying in late tonight from Baltimore."
I lowered my head in sorrow. Iris Somers was an annoying kook, but she certainly didn't deserve this. Neither did Mrs. Frye.
I had indeed been lucky.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A SOUND WOKE me. It was a dull thud, something heavy hitting wood. In my sleep-laden haze I thought it was my bladder, knocking audibly, asking for attention. I started to stir.
"That's only Wainwright," Greg assured me. His eyes were closed, an arm curled around me. "It's his doggie door."
I couldn't put off peeing any longer. Slowly I lifted back the covers and started to ease out of bed, looking for something nearby to throw on me.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"My night shirt, where is it?"
"Around here somewhere." He shifted away from me and adjusted himself in the bed so he was slightly sitting up. That accomplished, he ran his fingers through his long, thick hair. "You don't need it. It's just us."
I snorted softly to myself. Just us was enough. I looked around for a substitute. In the movies women always hopped out of bed and threw on something of their lover's. No matter how rumpled, they always managed to look sexy in oversized shirts with rolled-up sleeves. Greg had no shirts hanging about and, even if he did, I doubted if they'd fit. So much for movie glamour. I started to pull at the sheet I clutched to my body.
"Odelia, I mean it," he told me, playing tug-of-war with the sheet. "You don't need to cover yourself. In fact, I don't want you to. I want to see that luscious body."
I gave him a look of skepticism.
It was silly really. It wasn't our first time together, but our second, yet this morning seemed different. We had an established sexual relationship now and I didn't want to blow it by having the reality of my size thrown in his face. I would have been less self-conscious if it had been just a one-time. Heat of the moment fling, but I knew after last night that this had potential. That changed everything.
"Okay," he decided with determination, "we'll check out each other."
With a single toss of the covers, Greg gave me a full visual of his lifeless legs. It was a view that, until now, I had avoided. The limbs, thin and much paler than the rest of him, seemed not to belong to his strong and buffed upper body. He scooted himself to the edge of the bed and grabbed the nearby wheelchair to pull it close. Making sure the wheels were locked, he hoisted himself up on his muscular arms and swung his butt into the chair. The move was qu
ick and efficient. I had seen him do it before, but this morning even that was different. The uselessness of his legs was a glaring fact. Something that couldn't be ignored.
"There," he said, once he was settled in. "Here I am, skinny legs and all."
His charm and cockiness made me laugh, and his courage made me brave. With my own toss of the covers, I uncovered myself and hopped out of bed completely, standing in all my lumpy glory before him. I nervously watched as he checked me from top to bottom. Then he tossed me a lecherous wink. I could feel an involuntary blush begin to creep upward from my toes to my scalp.
"Now walk toward the door, baby," he said. "Let me see you strut your stuff."
"You're joking?"
He shook his head. I rolled my eyes and very self-consciously walked to the door and back again.
"Nah, you can do better than that. Straighten those shoulders and lift those boobies," he coached. "Let's see some pride in that swagger!"
He was making me laugh, and laughing made my need to urinate more pressing. With one last effort, I squared my shoulders, tucked in my gut as best I could, and lifted my chest and chin. I concentrated on walking slowly and gracefully to the door, much to his delight and cat calls. Once there, I turned around and gave him a vampish glance over my shoulder.
"Gotta pee, big boy. See ya in a few."
When I returned, he was gone. Locating my errant night shirt, I slipped into it. I wasn't quite ready to strut my stuff throughout the house. I found Greg in the kitchen feeding an eager Wainwright.
"Scrambled eggs sound good to you?" he asked.
"Sure. In fact, I'll even whip up my famous messy eggs."
"Don't tell me, you cook them in the pan, shells and all," he said with a grin.
"Close," I answered, pulling eggs and other ingredients from the refrigerator. His fridge was well-stocked with fresh items, making me feel guilty about my own nutritional disaster at home. "Scrambled eggs with chopped veggies and cheese. Like an omelet, only not neatly filled and folded. Think of a nicely made bed versus a rumpled one."
He laughed. "You're on."
"You always in such a good mood in the morning?" I asked as I began chopping zucchini, along with green and red peppers.
"Only when I wake up with a beautiful woman at my side."
"Hmmmm." I could feel myself blushing yet again. "Be careful, Greg. I could get used to this."
"That's my plan."
Greg's sink, cabinets, and appliances were built lower than the norm, which was fine by me since I'm short. I moved around the custom kitchen comfortably, feeling quite at home.
"Greg, what happened to you?" I asked as I grated Swiss cheese into a bowl. "What happened to your legs?"
Greg rolled over to the coffee maker and poured us each a cup. He set mine on the counter and took his to the table.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No, Odelia, it's okay. You should know, and I don't mind talking about it. At least not after all these years."
He poured milk into his coffee and offered me some. I shook my head.
"When I was almost fourteen," he began, "I was horsing around with some cousins who lived up north. I was visiting them for the summer. We were coming home from fishing, and goofing off along the way. You know, skipping rocks, bugging each other. Being normal adolescent wise-guys.
"There was an old, short, wooden bridge along the way, built high above a small river. Joey, who was fourteen already, dared me and Slick, that's my cousin Seymour, who was twelve at the time, to cross the bridge tightrope style. You know, walk along the top of the railing."
"Gawd, I can see this coming already," I groaned.
"We'd done it before, many times, in fact. But that morning, it had rained and the railing was slippery. It was also old and wiggly. Joey, being the one who made the dare, went first, followed by his brother. I was last. They both made it across, although Slick had a few tense moments. I wasn't so lucky."
"You fell, of course," I said, scooping the chopped vegetables into the hot frying pan and tossing them with a bit of butter and salt and pepper.
"Of course. The railing jiggled from side to side and the wetness just helped it along. But I didn't just fall into the river. I was almost across when it happened, so, when I started to fall, I was partially over the embankment. On the way down, I hit some rocks jutting out and kind of ricocheted into the river. Joey said I looked like a pinball going down, bouncing from the rocks to the ground and then into the water."
"I'm so sorry, Greg."
"It was just a foolish accident. Stuff like that happens."
We were both quiet for a moment. The sound of sizzling filled the room. I started scrambling the eggs in a bowl, getting ready to add them to the pan.
"You seem so okay about all this, Greg. So accepting. Didn't you ever get angry about what happened?"
He started setting the table. "Of course I did. Still do. But I work through that anger every day, taking it just one day at a time. Anger won't bring back my legs. It'll just mess up my life."
My forced retirement from investigative work had at least given me time to spend with Greg. Saturday night he took me to dinner and a movie. It was a good old fashioned date, complete with flowers. After, we made love. Today we planned on simply relaxing and hanging out together.
I stole looks at Greg as I popped some bread into the toaster and mixed the cheese into the cooking egg mixture. He was placing jam and butter on the table, looking very domestic and very yummy at the same time. I wondered if I could ever totally accept his handicap, the age difference, and my own body. But then, maybe that was my disability—an invisible, crippling insecurity I would have to work on day by day to overcome.
I served up the eggs and toast. Greg poured the orange juice. Wainwright settled under the table. All that was missing was one cantankerous green cat.
The rest of the day was near to perfect. I called Zee to let her know where I was and what was happening. After I calmed her down and assured her that I was safe and that the bump on my head was just a bump, Greg, Wainwright, and I adjourned to the beach.
I still couldn't get a handle on who the people were at Sophie's the morning she killed herself. It plagued me, even though I'd promised Greg to let it be. I ran all the possibilities over and over inside my head like a broken record, making myself nuts.
Greg knew I was stewing about it. I could tell by the looks of disapproval he shot my way when I was overly quiet. But like meat and vegetables simmering in a broth, facts and theories bubbled away in my heated brain. Finally, I couldn't help myself.
"Greg, do you think maybe the woman Ortiz saw that morning was one of Hollowell's bimbos?"
He let out an exaggerated groan. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Not until I have some answers."
"You're going to drive yourself insane, Odelia."
"Well, at least give me a road map so I can get there faster."
"Okay, okay," he said, laughing. We were seated, looking out at the ocean, he in his chair, me on a concrete bench. He pulled me close and kissed me. "You're like a dog with a bone. Might as well let you chew on it until you're done."
I smiled and kissed him back. "Thanks. It'll be easier on you in the end, trust me."
"I can see that," he said. "So, what's the question again?"
"Clarice Hollowell said something about her husband giving all his women, his fat sluts actually, the same bracelet. Sophie had one just like she described. I returned it to Hollowell the first night we met, and he tried to give it to me."
"Really?" Greg's interest in the subject was really aroused now. "Did he offer you a job, too?"
"No, but he asked me to go to San Diego with him. But you know, now that I look back, he did ask if I wanted to go on cam. Maybe he was looking for Sophie's replacement."
"You go on cam, fine...with me," Greg told me. "But only for my personal enjoyment, you hear?"
"But you didn'
t mind Sophie being on camera."
"No, but I wasn't involved with Sophie. At least not like we are. Had she and I become lovers, I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it. I'm not that open-minded."
His reply made me happy.
"So, did you take the bracelet?"
"No, of course not. But what if some of the other girls he uses in his business are also on adult web sites. We'd be able to tell who they are by the bracelets."
"But only if they're wearing them."
"Are there that many BBW web cam sites on the Internet?"
"You're asking me?" he asked innocently.
I gave him my get real look and he caved with a sheepish grin.
"Not really. At least there aren't that many listed on the web camera index sites." He looked at me, his head tilted to the side. "You want to go back and check it out right now, don't you?"
I gave him my best begging look.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
AT FIRST HAPPY to see me, Seamus was ready to move out and return to the coyotes when he realized I had returned home Sunday night with Greg and Wainwright in tow. I told him he would just have to get used to it, cradling his big, sassy body in my arms, or start spending more time alone.
His hisses were interspersed with kitty growls, and his tail flicked like a snake as he watched Wainwright enter his turf and settle comfortably in a corner of the living room. The dog, oblivious to the evil eye being cast on him by the cat, looked at Seamus and wagged his tail.
"We won't stay long," Greg told me. "You look tired."
I was tired, but most of all frustrated. Our research into the world of Big Beautiful Women web sites yielded zilch. It had seemed like a plausible theory to me, the idea of looking for distinctive bracelets with a single charm. It hadn't taken long. There weren't that many adult web cam sites featuring large women, and none of them wore the telltale bracelet, or much else.
"Are you sure," he asked for the umpteenth time, "that you don't want to stay with me again? You can bring Seamus. We'll give him the entire guest room to roam."
"Thanks, Greg, but I'd rather sleep here tonight," I said. "Not that I don't want to sleep with you, just that I feel I need some time to myself. It's been a crazy few days."
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