Too Big To Miss

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  "My mother sent these for you," Marcia told me. "They're cookies, all her best recipes."

  News had traveled fast. I was shot yesterday and already today I'd had lots of visitors, most bearing gifts. And it was only the middle of the afternoon. I was truly touched.

  "Please tell Mrs. Pugh thank you for me," I told Marcia. "I'm sorry I didn't get to tell her myself."

  "She and Robbie are minding the store," Peter said.

  The room went quiet.

  "Does Robbie know?" I asked quietly, as if the boy might be in the next room.

  Marcia and Peter tossed each other looks. Hers was pleading, his tight and firm.

  "Not yet," Marcia said. "But we're discussing it. After all, he's not a child, and John Hollowell may still stir up trouble."

  "No need for him to ever know," Peter added in a low tone. "We can just send him away to finish school. Somewhere out of Hollowell's reach."

  "How are you going to explain the money from Sophie's estate?" I asked. "It's about a million dollars."

  Both Olsens looked at me with surprise. Peter Olsen's mouth hung open. Then, like a trap, he shut it.

  "It's a difficult call, I know, and not mine to make," I said honestly. "But I do have one request."

  Marcia squeezed my hand. "Anything, dear."

  "I have Sophie's ashes. I'd like you to bury them at her grave in Santa Paula. No funeral or anything. I just want her to go home and be with her family, where she belongs."

  Again, all was still, then Peter said, "We can do that." His eyes were sad and damp. "Least we can do, considering she died twice to save Robbie."

  The rest of the visit was pleasant and gave me a chance to study the Olsens. They seemed a happy couple and well suited to each other. Sophie may have been Peter's passion, but Marcia was his mate, both in soul and heart. It was easy to see it in the way he looked at her and held her hand. On their way out, they almost bumped into Detective Frye. He stopped them and directed them back into the room.

  "I have some news," he announced. "And it's something you folks will want to know, too."

  All eyes expectantly turned to him.

  A nurse came in just as he started to speak. It was someone I hadn't seen before. "There are entirely too many people in this room," she said with authority.

  Frye flashed his badge. "Just a few minutes, please. Then we'll thin out the crowd."

  The nurse eyed the badge, then me, with more than a fair amount of curiosity. With a disapproving look, she left.

  "John Hollowell is dead," Frye announced bluntly after the nurse departed.

  Peter Olsen put an arm around his wife. Zee gasped. Greg caught my eye. He looked surprised, but not heartbroken. I felt the same.

  Frye continued. "His car was found abandoned near Camp Pendleton. He was in the trunk, trussed, and shot in the head, execution style. Looks like a professional hit."

  Peter was the first to speak. "Can't say that I'm sorry, Detective."

  Frye nodded somberly, but said nothing.

  Hollowell was dead. Did I feel sorry about it? To be truthful, no. But I felt I should be. Just over two weeks ago, I might have been. Three weeks ago, I'd have mourned the loss of any life, even that of a killer's, thinking of it as a waste of a precious gift. Today, I only had sympathy for his victims. I had changed a lot in a short time.

  After more good-byes, the Olsens left to drive back to Santa Paula.

  "We found Blaine Kendall," Frye said after the Olsens left. "Apparently, he and his wife had a major argument yesterday morning before she hooked up with you. She shot him and left him for dead. Fortunately for him, we got to their place right after Glo Kendall was killed."

  Frye paused and took out a pack of gum. He offered it around. Zee took a stick, but was too nervous to unwrap it. It slipped from her fingers onto the bed. I picked it up and removed the foil for her. When I held it out to her, she collapsed into a nearby chair in tears. Greg rolled over and put his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder.

  "His story matches what she told you, Odelia," Frye said, continuing. "And it was Blaine Kendall who stole Ms. London's hard drive and assaulted you and Iris Somers. When they read she had shot herself over the Internet, they worried they had been caught on camera, too. Blaine Kendall has a criminal record back in Tennessee, mostly assault and burglary. It's a long one, starting when he was a kid, but nothing hardcore. Glo Kendall's record was clean, except for some minor things when she was a teenager. They hooked up a few years ago when Blaine moved to California."

  "You think they killed Hollowell?" Greg asked.

  Frye shook his head. "Doubt it. Bullet didn't match Kendall's gun. And, like I said, the hit was professional, very sophisticated and well planned. Not at all the work of a small-time criminal."

  Another mystery, I thought, but this one I didn't care about.

  "What about Iris?" I asked. "Any improvement?"

  "She's stabilized," Frye told us with another slow shake of his head, "but still in a coma. May be for a long time. Her family is going to fly her back to Maryland and get care for her there."

  "Every time I think that the same thing could've happened to you..." Zee started to say, trailing her words off.

  Greg gave her a comforting squeeze.

  "But it didn't, Zee," I said, trying to comfort her myself. "It didn't and I'm going to be fine. Better than ever."

  She smiled at me. Zee Washington has a beautiful smile, large and glorious, and today it did more for me than the painkillers.

  "Takes more than a bullet in my ass to get me down," I assured her. "Although I am concerned about the surgery. Will one side of my butt be shaped differently now? You know, flatter? Bad enough I have a huge behind, without it being lopsided."

  Everyone laughed.

  Zee wiped her eyes and nose with a nearby tissue. "You'll just have to get liposuction to even it out."

  Laughing, Greg left Zee and wheeled closer to me. "I have to go back to work, sweetheart. I'll see you later tonight." We both leaned over, meeting halfway for a nice, sweet kiss.

  "I'll go with you, Greg," Zee told him. "I need to get home before the kids start rolling in." She gave me a quick kiss on my forehead, promising to come back later with Seth and the kids.

  After they left, Frye milled about.

  "Alone at last," I joked.

  He smiled wearily as he pulled up a chair next to my bed and sat down. He stuck another piece of gum in his mouth. I could tell he was only half with me.

  "Your wife still here?" I asked in a gentle voice, my joking gone.

  "Yes, but they're releasing her in a few hours."

  "That's wonderful."

  "For now," he said, his voice distant. "At least until the next time. My daughter's coming by to help take her home."

  I shifted in the bed, my good side getting tired of supporting my weight. I had two options...my side or my stomach. But it was difficult to visit with people while floundering on my tummy like a beached whale.

  "She's going to die soon," Frye said sadly but frankly. "In a year or two the doctors say, maybe less. Hard to say with these things. I just hope it's sooner than later. She's been in a lot of pain for a long time."

  "I'm sorry, Detective. Kind of puts my butt wound in its proper perspective."

  "That wasn't my purpose in telling you that, Odelia," he said, running his hands over his tired face. "And I shouldn't be unloading on you like this." He looked at me and gave me a small, tired smile. "And please call me Dev."

  "No problem, Dev," I said, smiling back. "And thank you. You've been there for me these last few weeks. Smart of you to plant that police woman in our group. Ruth was literally a life saver."

  Frye leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. I could smell the spearmint from his gum. "I have a confession, Odelia."

  I waited, wondering what was left to tumble my world. Was the big and burly Frye really the emaciated Clarice Hollowell in disguise? At this poin
t, nothing would surprise me.

  "Ruth wasn't on assignment," he said. "She's with the Tustin PD. She was there as a personal favor to me, keeping tabs on you and the group on her own time. I had a hunch that either something might turn up within Reality Check, or that the killer might be targeting the group."

  "That's some favor."

  "Well, Ruth owes me," he said, winking. "She's my daughter."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  DOROTHY IN THE Wizard Of Oz was right—there's no place like home. Didn't matter how humble, or where, or even if it was a farm in the middle of twister country, home was home...period. There's also nothing like the sandpaper tongue of your very own avocado green cat licking your chin at five in the morning, either.

  After being discharged from the hospital, I went to stay at Casa de Washington for a few days. It was nice, though Zee killed me with excessive care, the kids drove me around the bend with questions, and Seth did me in with lectures and warnings.

  It's so nice to be loved.

  Jacob was tasked with riding his bike over to my place every day to feed and play with poor Seamus. He wanted to bring him home, but his dad, allergic to cats, nixed the idea. Greg had offered to take him while I convalesced, but I didn't think that was a good option, either. I planned on getting Seamus and Wainwright together again, but only when I was there to referee. Greg is more than capable of taking care of himself and running a successful business, but a wheelchair is no match for a headstrong feline in a catch-me-if-you-can mood.

  Per doctor's orders, I could return back to work two weeks after the shooting. That time would be up in four days, and I was looking forward to returning to the grind. Being away from work gave me too much time to think about everything that had happened. Mostly, I thought about Sophie.

  Sophie London, my friend, was in the sex business. That was a fact. Zee and I discussed this, as did Greg and I. I understood how she got into the lifestyle, just not why she stayed so long. It could've been for a multitude of reasons, but we'll never really know. Greg had said Sophie got an emotional lift from the web site. The members, as well as the others who paid her and showered her with gifts, had accepted and adored her just as she was. To them she wasn't fat, stupid, lazy, or slovenly—all the attributes usually assigned to the overweight. In their eyes, she was womanly perfection.

  Honestly, that would be enough to tempt me.

  Reality Check would go on, and with me at the helm. We had a meeting last night at Zee's. It was the first one since Sophie's death. Almost all of our regular supporters were there. They had come out in droves to voice their support of the group, its work, and me. It had been an emotional and overwhelming evening.

  It was agreed I should pick up and carry on the work begun by Sophie. I consented, but not because of any sense of obligation to Sophie's memory. Reality Check was capable of creating change—woman by woman, life by life. It was a chain reaction with an exciting future.

  In the end, I did it for me.

  AFTER PARKING MY car under one of the few shade trees in the parking lot of Fashion Island, I walked into the open air mall. My wounded haunch was still stiff and sore, but it felt good to move and exercise it.

  Hannah Washington's eighteenth birthday was Sunday. Seth and Zee were having a birthday brunch for the family and close friends. While recovering at their house, Hannah had dropped numerous hints about an outfit she wanted. Unfortunately, it was at the dreadful store where I'd last been humiliated. Zee told me to get her something else, but I said no. What are aunties for? Especially honorary aunties who'd just had a near-death experience.

  I walked into the uptight establishment, telling myself to just buy the item and leave. Making my way to the young women's department, I spotted the skirt and matching top almost immediately and easily found the color and size Zee had given me. So far, so good.

  The cash register island was just a few steps away. Manning it was the same girl who had sneered at me the last time, the charming Jody. Sheesh, what were the odds?

  She was standing with another clerk, who wore so much dark eye makeup she looked like she'd just been released from the clutches of the underworld. The two were chattering away. I placed the garments on the counter and waited to be helped. Both salesclerks glanced my way, then turned their backs to me, continuing their conversation.

  Another customer walked up. From her skin, I guessed her to be close to my age, but she was dressed like a teenager in an immodestly short skirt and a tube top showing off unnaturally perky breasts. Around her neck hung pounds of gold. Her hair was dyed blonde and worn very long, down past her shoulders. Immediately, the two clerks stopped talking. The one with the heavy eye goop left, while my favorite clerk turned to help the aging Barbie doll.

  Impatiently, I shifted my weight to my good side and waited. Snide comments were waiting in line inside my mouth, eager to be released. Be nice, I told myself. Don't agitate yourself for no good reason.

  The customer and Jody were knee deep into a conversation about which designer was still in and which was—God forbid—passé. I looked around for the other clerk, but she'd disappeared. Probably attending a séance on her break. I scanned the place for another nearby cash register, but noticed none. Guess the stuff was free.

  Finally, Jody rang up the woman's purchases. I scooted Hannah's birthday present across the glass counter in her direction. She looked at the garments, then proceeded to help two bubbly young women who had just walked up. Jody greeted them like old friends. I stopped her.

  Ignore me once, shame on you. Ignore me twice, look out.

  "Excuse me, but I was next," I told her pleasantly, with a smile even.

  Jody rolled her eyes at me. "You'll just have to wait your turn." She turned back to the young women, whispering something. They all giggled.

  "I don't think so," I said, pushing the garments closer to her. "I've been standing here all along and you know it. I was even here before that last customer."

  She cast a sneer my way. "So what, Orca. Shop somewhere else if you don't like it."

  They all giggled.

  I gave the two young customers a look that made them back up, telling Jody they'd see her later. As they retreated, I eased my bulk over, positioning it to the side of the cashier area, right next to Jody. My butt hurt like hell, making me dangerously close to insane.

  "I'm shopping here and I'm shopping now," I said in an even tone, locking eyes with the insolent brat. "So why don't you just call your supervisor over and we'll get this problem squared away."

  She picked up the garments and started sorting through them, looking for the tags, almost tearing the fabric in the process. I placed my hand on top of the clothing, stopping her.

  "Get your supervisor," I told her again. "Now."

  "She's not here."

  "Then get her manager."

  "He's not here, either."

  "So," I said, starting to enjoy the little game in spite of my physical discomfort, "you're telling me that you're the top dog in this large and noted establishment at this very moment?"

  She looked at me with pure hatred, then I saw her glance in the direction of a professional and stylish looking woman across the way in the next department. Something told me this was the elusive supervisor. And something about the way Jody looked at her told me that Jody feared her...and possibly unemployment.

  "That's your supervisor, isn't it?" I asked, indicating the woman and stepping even closer to Jody.

  When Jody didn't say anything, I gently put my foot over the toes of one of her high-heel clad feet, and applied a teeny-weeny bit of pressure.

  "Ow," she said and tried to pull her foot out from under mine, but I held it by applying more weight.

  The woman across the way noticed us and took a few steps in our direction. She was dressed in an expensive and classy suit. She smiled at me, then looked at Jody. There was a slightly weary look in her glance at the clerk.

  "Finding everything you need?" she asked me.


  "Yes, thank you," I replied sweetly. "Jody here is showing me the care tags on this garment." My foot pressed down a little more and I felt the girl's body tense. "They put them in the oddest places these days, don't they?"

  The woman gave me a gracious smile, then tossed a worried glance at Jody. "I'm glad Jody is being so helpful," she said pointedly before wandering off.

  "Jody," I said, once her supervisor was out of earshot, "the next time I come in here, I'm going to make sure I come to your register."

  The girl looked at me with undisguised fright, the cockiness gone.

  "No matter what I buy," I continued, "in fact, even if I'm just window shopping, every time I come into this store I'm going to seek you out to help me."

  I gave her toes one last squish and released them. She let out the breath she was holding and hopped lightly on one foot.

  "Remember, Jody, you are now my favorite clerk and I am now your worst nightmare...a customer who is too big to mess with."

  Sue Ann Jaffarian

  Like the character Odelia Grey, Sue Ann Jaffarian is middle-aged and plus-sized. She lives in Los Angeles and writes mysteries and general fiction, as well as short stories. In addition to writing, Sue Ann is sought after as a motivational and humorous speaker, and through Fat Chance Promotions, provides editing services and marketing and promotional coaching for writers of all genres. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America and the current president of the Los Angeles Chapter of Sisters In Crime, an international non-profit organization dedicated to the mystery genre.

  eBook Info

  Identifier:

  0759943605

  Title:

  Too Big To Miss

  Creator:

  Sue Ann Jaffarian

  Date:

  9/01/2006

  Copyrights:

  2006 Sue Ann Jaffarian

  Publisher: