A Body to Spare (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (19 page)

twenty-two

Dev lived in a
modest but nicely maintained three-bedroom house in Costa Mesa, the city next to Newport Beach. It had been an easy commute to his job. His house reminded me a lot of our own home in Seal Beach except that all three of the bedrooms were on one side of the structure, where our master suite was on the opposite side from the other bedrooms. But, like our place, the living room, dining room, and kitchen were really just one big great room sectioned off by the layout into separate areas. Even his kitchen was divided from the dining area by a counter, but his counter was of average height, where ours was built lower to accommodate Greg.

When his wife had become sick, Dev had made a few adjustments to the master bathroom and bath to make it easier for her to get around on her own as long as possible as she weakened, including installing a walk-in tub and shower. Fehring had been right about Dev’s house being the right place for Greg. Dev even had hardwood floors instead of carpet. Unlike our place, Dev had a large back yard with plenty of grass beyond a small patio, where we had little grass and a huge patio. Wainwright would be in doggie heaven since he usually had to make do with our tiny back patch of the green stuff. We didn’t even need to mow ours. It was so small, our landscaper trimmed it with a weed wacker.

Dev was waiting for us when we got there. “Andrea just called and gave me the 4-1-1 on everything,” he told us as we unloaded the van with his help. We’d pulled up in front of his two-car detached garage, which was set back to the rear of the property, just behind the house. From there, Greg could enter via a short ramp Dev had built for Janet. He’d never removed it after her death because of the occasional visits we made.

“Thanks, Dev,” I said. Standing on tiptoe, I gave him a small peck on the cheek. “You’re being such a good sport, but we hope to be out of your hair in a day or so. On the way over here, I called Mom and told her not to leave her retirement place at all until she heard from us that it was okay.”

“Do you think she’ll listen?” asked Dev. “I know how headstrong your mother can be.” He shot Greg a look, then did the same to me. “Like other people I know.”

Greg started chuckling. “Andrea Fehring asked the same question.”

“Not so fast, Greg,” Dev added. “I wasn’t only talking about Odelia. You were included in that comment.”

Greg shook his head and laughed again. “I’m in good company, then.” He started rolling toward the house. “But I think Grace will listen. She’s especially skittish after this afternoon.” He stopped and clamped his mouth shut. I went about the business of pulling two small rollerboards containing clothing out of the van, hoping Dev wouldn’t ask, but of course he did.

“And what happened this afternoon?” Dev asked Greg with a glance my way.

“Didn’t Andrea Fehring tell you about Jean Utley?” I asked, looking surprised. Technically, Jean had jumped this morning and Elaine had showed up this afternoon. I hoped Dev didn’t get picky about Jean’s timeline and press the matter.

“Yeah, she did,” Dev answered. “It was part of the call she made to me while you two were on your way over here. And she told me about that Swayze guy, too, but said you’d fill me in more about his visit to you yesterday.” With his free hand he grabbed a handled canvas bag containing bags of both dog and cat kibble and almost dropped it, surprised by its weight. “Man,” Dev said, gaining a better grip. “This is almost as bad as couples who travel with a bunch of kids.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Dev,” I said, glad to take his mind off Greg’s slip, “these
are
our kids.”

Inside the house, a few boxes were in the midst of being packed and for now were shoved off against the wall in the dining area. “I tried to make sure there was plenty of room for Greg to get through,” Dev explained. “There are more boxes already packed in one of the spare bedrooms—the one with the closed door.”

“Wow, Dev,” I said, looking at the bare walls and surfaces once graced by family photos and mementos, “you’ve really made a lot of progress.” The only thing except furniture left in the living room was the flat screen TV mounted over the small fireplace. The house, once warm and cozy, now felt bare and cold.

“I made this decision several weeks ago,” he told us, “but only just announced it. I’ve been packing a little every night, and my daughter did the kitchen. I’m sorry, but there’s barely anything left in the kitchen except for the coffeepot and a few dishes and utensils. We’ve even taken a load of stuff over to the storage unit already. My daughter wanted to have a garage sale, but I really don’t have the time for it before I go.” He pointed down the long hall. “You guys will take the master suite at the end of the hall.”

“Dev,” Greg said, “we can’t put you out of your own bed.”

“It’s not a bother,” Dev said, “so not another word. That bathroom will be easier for you. I put fresh sheets on the bed just now.” He put the cat carrier and the pet food down and took the cat litter box from Greg. “Where should this go?” he asked.

“We usually put it in the spare bathroom,” I told him, “but anywhere where it won’t be in your way will do.”

“The master bath has a vanity with an opening under it,” he said. “How about I put it there?”

“Perfect,” I told him and he disappeared down the hall, returning a few seconds later.

As Dev washed his hands at the kitchen sink, he said, “You will be on your own tonight. I’m staying at my daughter’s.”

“Geez, Dev,” said Greg. “Now I really feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Dev said as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel. “I had already planned to stay there tonight. My daughter and her husband are going out for their anniversary—dinner and a night in a swanky hotel. I’m watching the kids. I usually stay over when they go out so they can stay out later and I don’t have to drive home after.” A big smile crossed his face. “The deal is they have to give the kids their supper and their baths and put them in their pj’s before I get there, and I’ll make pancakes in the morning so my daughter and her husband can sleep in and not rush back.”

“You’re going to miss them terribly, Dev,” I said. “Are you sure you want to move?”

“It’ll be tough but doable,” Dev said through a determined locked jaw that conveyed his own doubts. He checked his watch. “I don’t have to be there for a few hours, so let’s get down to business. I want to know what’s going on. I have Andrea’s side. What’s cooking on your side?”

“Speaking of cooking, how about we order Chinese or go out for an early dinner?” suggested Greg. “Our treat and no argument. Odelia and I have been on the run all day and haven’t been able to eat since breakfast.”

“Yes,” I agreed with enthusiasm. “We were going to take sandwiches when we went to talk to Fehring, but we forgot. You know how long the police can keep you.”

Dev grinned at my words. “It’s part of our interrogation tactics—starve the truth out of them. An early dinner sounds good, but how about Thai instead of Chinese?” he suggested. “There’s a great place that just opened up not too far from here.”

Once the takeout arrived, the three of us sat around Dev’s kitchen table hashing over the day’s events while eating Thai food. Muffin had settled down after some exploration, and Wainwright was outside on the lawn. Fehring had pretty much filled Dev in on everything, but he questioned us extensively about our conversation with Jean Utley and our encounter with John Swayze.

“So the dad says they were close, and she said she hadn’t seen or talked to him in years,” Dev said, recapping what we’d told him.

“Yes,” said Greg. “That’s what she said. One of them is lying, and I’m betting it wasn’t Jean.”

“And something is off about that Nathan Glick guy,” I added, picking up our dirty plates and taking them to the sink.

“How so?” asked Dev.

Greg leaned over toward Dev. “Here’s where we don’t agree. Odelia thinks it’s odd that Glick is close to Finch and showed up here with him. I think it’s only natural.”

Dev leaned back in his chair. “Tell me what you’re each thinking.”

“Well,” said Greg. “Nathan Glick was one of Zach’s close friends. Why wouldn’t Alec Finch help him out with a scholarship and a job if he thought the kid had potential?”

“On that I agree, Greg,” I said, returning to the table.

“And,” Greg continued, “with Zach turning up after all these years, why wouldn’t Glick come along in case the police wanted to question him more about the night Zach went missing. He was one of the last to see him alive that night.”

Dev looked to me for a rebuttal. I had nothing. “That makes sense, too,” I agreed. “Everything makes sense on the surface, but I still have a creepy feeling in my gut about Glick. He kept trying to calm Finch down, and Finch kept brushing him off.”

“Finch was upset,” Greg said. “And he’s used to handling people, not people handling him. Any attempts to do that would naturally be met with brusqueness. He was also sure we had something to do with Zach’s death and was focused on us. He even accused us of wanting some sort of reward or payment.”

“Yes.” I pointed my right index finger at my husband. “He did, and the way he worded it was odd, I thought.”

“What did he say exactly?” Dev asked, leaning forward again in his chair to listen better.

I took a deep breath and gave it some thought before answering. “He said something like for us to tell whoever we were working with that he’d already paid and not to expect anything else.”

“Actually,” Greg added, “he told us to tell whoever we were working with to piss off. His exact words.”

“He could be referring to the original kidnappers,” Dev said after mulling it over. “He could have thought you’d been holding Zach all these years and now were looking to cash in twice.”

“Look at us, Dev,” I said with frustration. “Do we look like we swooped into a small town in Illinois years ago and grabbed a teenager practically from his front yard? We can barely handle our pets.”

Dev was trying hard not to laugh at the thought. “You don’t have to be the ones who kidnapped Zach to be working now with the people who took him and held him captive.”

“Very true,” Greg agreed.

“Getting back to Nathan Glick,” I said, not comfortable with us being in the limelight as suspects, even around the dinner table. “I was watching him when Swayze announced that Jean was dead. While Alec Finch nearly lost his mind, Glick didn’t look surprised at all.”

Both men looked at me. “Are you sure?” Dev asked.

“I was watching both men, and their reactions were totally different,” I explained. “Shouldn’t Glick be in at least a tiny bit of shock about the news?”

“You’d think,” said Greg. “Unless he was so intent on keeping his boss under control, all his energy was spent there.”

“This was a woman’s sudden death we’re talking about,” I went on to say. “Someone Glick knew well when he was a teen.”

Dev leaned back in his chair. “I do think that’s enough to dig deeper into Glick,” he said after a short silence. “Maybe Clark can help ferret out his relationship with Alec Finch.”

“Clark is in Illinois right now checking on Zach’s friends and the Finch family,” I admitted.

Dev only nodded. “I’m not surprised. Has he learned anything yet?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “Chris Cook, one of Zach’s friends who was with him the night he disappeared, is nowhere to be found. His business is closed for the weekend, and no one appears to be home. Nathan Glick we know is currently here. He resides in Chicago, and I believe he’s single. The third kid was killed in a snowboarding incident shortly after Zach disappeared.”

Dev leaned forward. “Do I want to ask where you got all this information?”

“I’m a paralegal, Dev,” I repeated for the umpteenth time in a short period. “I have access to all kinds of search engines.”

Dev fixed his eyes on mine and held them for several seconds. He did the same with Greg, then simply said, “Bullpucky.”

Just then my cell phone rang.
Saved by the bell.
I left the table to retrieve my phone from my bag. It was Fehring. “What’s up?”

“What’s up is that the Finch story is about to break,” she told me. “The news conference is about to start. Get to a TV if you’re interested.”

“The news conference is about to start,” I told the guys. Dev got up and turned on his TV, and we all moved to the living room to watch it. “Did you ever catch up to Swayze?” I asked Fehring.

“No,” she answered. “I sent a unit to the address you gave me in Long Beach. It was a mailbox place.”

“How did he know about Jean?” I asked.

“All we can figure out,” Fehring said, “is that he followed you and Greg there. Apparently, smashing his hand with a bat wasn’t warning enough to stay away from you two.”

“How is Mr. Finch?” I asked.

“Still hell-bent on talking to you two, so stay out of his way. In fact, stay put at Dev’s at least until tomorrow night. Got that? Now I gotta run.”

The news conference was handled by Special Agent Shipman. He stood behind a podium set in front of the police station. In front of him was a gaggle of microphones. Behind him stood several people in business attire, including Fehring, some police officers in uniform, and Alec Finch. Next to Finch stood Nathan Glick. Both men appeared to be wearing the same suits they were wearing earlier. This time Finch did look a little ragged around the edges. Glick still looked poised and in control.

“That’s Nathan Glick,” I said to Dev, pointing to the left of Finch.

Dev sat down on the edge of an ottoman and leaned forward to study the man while Shipman talked about finding Zach Finch’s body after he’d disappeared eight years earlier. He confirmed that it was Zach’s corpse found in the trunk of a car at a local car wash earlier in the week. He also talked about Jean’s death, noting that both deaths were under investigation through the combined efforts of the bureau, the Long Beach Police Department, and the Los Angeles Police Department, and because of the ongoing investigation he wasn’t at liberty to disclose much information. He made no mention of me and kept it short and sweet. As soon as he was done, he was peppered with questions from the press. He pointed at a woman in the front with long, thick brown hair and too much makeup.