A Body to Spare (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (25 page)

twenty-eight

I was shaking like
Jell-O and would have fallen to the floor myself had Lisa not still had a tight grip on my hair. My legs were rubbery. Puking was imminent. Across from me Nathan Glick lay sprawled with empty, open eyes. Behind him Elaine stood, feet apart, her gun held in both hands, trained on me and Lisa.

“Let her go, Lisa,” Elaine said. “You want me. No one else needs to be involved.”

“Yes,” I heard Greg plead in a choked voice. “Please let Odelia go.” Somewhere in my muddled mind, I heard my mother weeping.

Maybe they held out hope, but I didn’t. I was almost certain that Lisa would never let us go—any of us. She didn’t have a shred of decency in her black heart.

My stomach gurgled and I fought back a couple of belches. My fear was not mixing well with brunch. Staring at a dead man wasn’t helping either. “I’m going to be sick,” I said to no one in particular.

In response, Lisa tightened her grip on my hair. “Nice try,” she said.

I was trying—trying my best to hold it back and get a grip—but it was no use. Out it came: a fountain of eggs, Canadian bacon, hollandaise sauce, home fries, and coffee. With Lisa’s grip so tight on my hair, my efforts to bend over were fruitless, and it bubbled out and down the front of my sweater. I started coughing on my own vomit.

“Damn it, Odelia,” snapped Lisa. She jumped back, releasing her hold on me. I fell to my knees and vomited again just as the warehouse erupted in a short explosion of gunfire.

My first thought was that I was dead. I was blanketed in silence as thick and fluffy as a cloud. Then I smelled the gunpowder. The silence seemed fitting; the acrid odor of gunpowder did not. Then the silence was broken by screams and shouts forcing their way through my blocked ears.

I opened my eyes to see Greg sailing in my direction. “Odelia,” he kept saying over and over, but I saw the words more than heard them. “Odelia,” he shouted again once he was in front of me. “Are you okay?” This time I heard him, not clearly, but better. The gunfire must have partially deafened me.

I reached out a hand toward my husband, and that’s when I realized that at some point I had gone from my knees to flat on the floor. Greg helped me get back to my knees. Before I could lift myself onto my feet, he enveloped me in his arms. Still on my knees, I laid my head in his lap, grateful we were both alive.

“Odelia!” The cry penetrated both my ears and my heart. It was Mom. Struggling to my feet, I shuffled as fast as I could to where I’d stashed her behind the truck. I uprighted her and held her tight for several seconds. “I’m okay, Mom,” I cooed as I worked on her bindings. “See? Filthy and stinky but okay.”

“Oh, Odelia!” was all she said over and over.

Someone rushed into the building while I finished loosening Mom’s hands and feet. I looked over the hood of the truck to see Dev come in with his gun ready.

“Odelia,” I heard Greg call to me. “Come here, quick.”

“Mom, stay here.” She started to protest, but I cut her off. “You’re safe. Just stay here in this chair and rest until you feel strong enough to walk.”

“You’re not leaving me here,” she insisted. She got up from the chair but was wobbly on her feet. I started to argue, but one look at her frightened face and I knew there was no way she was leaving my side. Taking her arm, together we made our way across to Greg.

As we passed Lisa’s body, I looked down. She was on her back, bullet holes in her chest. One shoulder was torn open, the flesh ragged under the torn fabric. Her arms and legs were spread out as if she were making a snow angel on the dirty concrete. Her eyes were open, looking up, counting the steel beams in the ceiling above. Next to her was a pool of my vomit. Mom shivered and let out a choked whimper. “That could have been you.”

It could have been all of us. I turned away from Lisa. I knew I should feel something, but I didn’t. It’s hard to mourn a rabid dog intent on destroying the people you love.

Greg had wheeled over to Elaine, who was propped up against the wall by the door. Her eyes were open, but unlike Lisa’s they were focused. Dev was standing in the open doorway talking to someone on his phone, giving directions. It was still raining steadily outside. I turned Mom over to Greg. As she leaned against his wheelchair, he wrapped an arm tight around her waist to support her.

I stepped over the body of Nathan Glick and knelt down on the floor next to Elaine. Her breathing was labored, but she smiled at me. There was a bullet hole in her upper right chest, just below her shoulder. Her left arm was draped around her middle. I touched it and she winced. “I took at least one in the gut,” she explained, “before Dev nailed Lisa.”

I looked up at Dev, but he was still on the phone getting help. I turned to Greg for answers. “Dev shot Lisa from behind,” he said. “He was watching everything through that broken back window.”

“I called him,” Elaine said in a labored voice, “on the burner phone when I was following you here.” She tried to grin but it turned into a grimace of pain. “He picked a damn good time to start trusting me.”

After a few seconds, Elaine said to me, “Hold me, Dottie.”

I paused, looking down at the filthy gunk on the front of my sweater.

“I don’t think she’ll mind, Odelia,” Greg said gently, noticing my hesitation.

I sat on the floor and gently tilted her forward, slipping slightly behind her so that she was cradled against me and not the cold wall. She gritted her teeth to hold back her moans as she was moved. I put my arms around her and held tight.

“That’s so nice,” she said once she was settled and closed her eyes.

“Help’s on the way, Elaine,” Greg said softly to her.

“No,” she said hoarsely, opening her eyes. “I don’t want help. I’d rather die here than in a hospital.” She moved her right arm, groaning as she did. She inched it along until her fingers touched the hand I had gently laid back on her left one. Blood was seeping from her torso, staining her clothing and mine. The sleeves of my sweater were soaking it up like a sponge. Elaine looked up at me and another small smile came to her lips. “Here I won’t die alone.” She closed her eyes, nestled against me, and let out a soft sigh.

I pressed my cheek against Elaine’s forehead. It was cool and clammy. Elaine opened her eyes again and whispered something I didn’t quite get. I leaned my head closer to her face, and she repeated the words. Slipping a hand into the pocket of her light jacket, I pulled out a phone that seemed to be recording. I held it up toward Dev. “It’s Glick’s confession,” I told him. Dev nodded and took the phone from me.

I tightened my arms around Elaine and pressed my lips against her forehead. A few seconds later, I felt her body go limp in my arms.

“Is she dead?” Mom asked softly. I looked at my mother but couldn’t speak. She and Greg were holding each other. Mom was nearly sobbing, and Greg’s eyes were wet.

Dev leaned down and placed two fingers against Elaine’s throat, just under her jaw. After a few seconds, he nodded.

twenty-nine

Elaine’s funeral had been
depressing, not just because she was dead but because she really was alone in the world. Lisa’s family had taken possession of her body, but no one had done the same for Elaine. She had arranged everything ahead of time through her attorney, who had contacted the police about the body when he heard the news. Fehring had contacted me about the interment time, knowing I might be interested. Elaine had quite a bit of money saved, which she had left to charities that help women and children. Her body was laid to rest in a cemetery in Pomona under a headstone that also bore the name Dorothy Powers—her sister; the one and only true Dottie. Elaine’s name had already been engraved, and all that was left to do was to insert the year.

There was no real service. A chaplain associated with the cemetery came at our request and said a few basic words over the casket before it was lowered into the ground. Greg and I attended the burial, and so did Mom, Clark, and Dev. Even Seth and Zee came out to support me. The only flowers were from Greg and me and my mother. It felt oddly like I was burying a favorite aunt. After, we all went to a nice restaurant and had some lunch, even though no one was particularly hungry. Andrea Fehring joined us there.

“So what’s the final scoop on Zach’s kidnapping?” I asked Fehring.

“Alec Finch isn’t saying a word about his wife’s death except to insist that it was a suicide,” she said. “And he’s lawyered up to his eyebrows with high-powered legal muscle. But the more we dig, the more Glick’s confession is sounding like the real deal.”

“What about Swayze?” Greg asked. “What’s happening with him?”

“He’s pretty squirrely,” Fehring told us. “A real psycho. He’ll heal from the knife to the gut Powers gave him, but I doubt he’ll ever see freedom again. He’s definitely a collector. We found enough photos on his home computer to link him and his cousin to several unsolved murders. We also linked some of them to Gloria Connors.”

“What?” I nearly choked on my iced tea when she said the bit about the newscaster. “
She
was involved in the killings?”

“We don’t know exactly what Connors’s connection to them is yet, only that she seemed to have the scoop on the stories before any of the other media. She’s claiming the stories were fed to her by Swayze, but that’s it. Meanwhile, she’s been suspended from her job until the investigation is over.”

“Did you ever uncover anything more on Zach’s whereabouts all these years?” Zee asked.

Fehring nodded. “He was living in Venice as David Moreland.” She took a drink of iced tea and shook her head. “Here was a kid who could have gone down all the wrong paths after running away, but instead he got his GED and put himself through college. He was working as an independent contractor in the computer industry.”

“I wonder,” I said, “if keeping ties with his sister over the years kept him grounded.”

“Could have,” admitted Dev. “He had cash, and he wasn’t totally alone in the world. It probably kept him off the streets.” A silence hung over the table as we considered Dev’s words.

“So you’re staying around a little bit longer?” I asked Dev.

“Just a few weeks, until all the hubbub about the shooting is laid to rest,” Dev answered. “I’ll be staying at my daughter’s since my place has been rented.” He chuckled. “It figures,” he said with a short, sad laugh. “I’m days from retirement, and I go and shoot someone.”

Lisa had been shot several times by both Elaine and Dev, but it was only Lisa’s gun that had taken out Elaine. According to Greg, after Lisa released her grip on me and I fell forward to be sick, Elaine and Lisa had exchanged fire. From his perch at the window Dev shot Lisa, nailing her in the shoulder, which gave Elaine time to take aim and put a few bullets in Lisa’s chest.

thirty

“I see you couldn’t
stay out of trouble while I was gone.” Steele was lazing in the visitor’s chair across from my desk. He looked relaxed and happy. On the desk in front of him was a wrapped gift and a box of Swiss chocolates. He’d returned to work the day before, but I had taken the day off to attend Elaine’s funeral.

“What can I say, Steele? Without you around, my life goes to hell in a handbasket.” My words were delivered without their usual bite, and he sensed my funk.

“I’m sorry about Elaine Powers,” he said, leaning forward. “I know in a weird way the two of you had become close. Do you need more time off?”

Had marriage scrambled his brain to the point where he’d become a sensitive human being? “You’re offering me more time off?” I asked with surprise.

“I’m making the gesture, Grey. I didn’t say I
wanted
you to take it.”

There he was, the Mike Steele I knew and loved. He and I looked at each other across my desk, and soon I felt the trickle of a genuine smile return to my face. “I’m good, Steele. Really.”

He smiled back. “Glad to hear it. When we heard the news, Michelle almost lost her mind with worry, what with the FBI, bodies in trunks, hitwomen, and kidnappings. But I explained to her that that’s a slow week for you.”

My smiled widened. “It’s good to have you back, Steele.”

He leaned back again in the chair. “Now be a good girl and open your present. I have to get back to work.”

I unwrapped the gift and found a beautiful wooden cuckoo clock inside. I started laughing. “Are you trying to tell me something, Steele?”

He grinned. “If the cuckoo fits, wear it.” He leaned forward and pointed at something. “See that label? That means it’s a Lötscher clock. They make the only genuine Swiss cuckoo clocks in the world.” He pointed at the front. “And those two goats move. I named them Greg and Odelia.” Steele got up and started for my door.

“Greg’s going to love this,” I said. “Thank you very much, Steele. Tell Michelle thank you also.” I started tearing up.

“What’s with the waterworks, Grey? Would you have preferred Hansel and Gretel on the front? Or how about a hunk of Swiss cheese marching back and forth to music?”

I shook my head. “I’m just so happy and grateful to have such loving friends and family.” I got up and went to Steele, giving him a good solid hug.

“Shame on you, Grey, making a pass at a married man.”

I broke off the hug and looked up at him. “Ass,” I snapped, but I said it with a smile.

Steele laughed and gave me his own hug. “I’m glad you didn’t get yourself killed…again.” He pulled away. “Now get to work before you make
me
cuckoo.”

After putting the clock back in its box, I opened the chocolates and popped one into my mouth. It was heaven. I was about to have another when my cell phone rang. The display said it was Emma Whitecastle. I was surprised. I must have come up in the world for her to unblock her phone for a call to me.

“Hello,” I answered. “Emma?”

“Hi, Odelia,” she said. “I hope I’m not reaching you at a bad time.”

“Not at all.” I sat down at my desk. “My mother loved the signed photo, by the way. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused. “I’ve been watching the news for the past several days. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said a little too quickly, then amended it with, “Still a little shaken up, but better. Thanks for asking.”

“Your mother was right, Odelia, we are alike in that we both get into serious scrapes. If you ever want to talk about it—you know, for support or an understanding ear—please call me. We can get together for lunch or something.”

I sat up straight. It was a very generous offer coming from a famous and busy person. “Thank you, Emma. Sometimes I do feel rather alone and confused about all this.”

She laughed. “Me too.” She paused. “There’s actually another reason for my call.”

“My father again?”

“No, not this time, but a spirit has come to me determined to send you a message.”

I didn’t know what to think. My earlier experience with Emma Whitecastle had been both disturbing and interesting, but I still wasn’t onboard with all the ghost stuff. “Okay,” I said with caution.

“Remember when I was at your house and called you Dottie?” she asked.

“I do, and I should have told you then that the name Dottie did mean something to me. I’m sorry. I was just surprised.”

“Well, Dottie is back and has a message for you.”

“You mean the spirit of Elaine Powers is giving you a message for me, don’t you? Elaine—the woman who was just killed—always called me Dottie.”

“Mmm, no; it isn’t her. For the past few days, the spirit of a woman named Dottie has been bugging me to contact you.”

I sat up straight, my eyes fixed on the colorful print hung on the wall across from my desk. “And?”

“She says thank you.”

I shook my head a little, wondering if I’d heard correctly. “She asked you to tell me thank you? That’s it?”

On the other end of the phone, Emma conferred with someone, but I didn’t hear the other person’s remarks, only Emma’s. Then Emma said to me, “Dottie says to tell you thank you for everything you did for her sister.”

“Anything else?” My head was starting to swell like it had been clubbed.

“No, that was it,” Emma said. “She’s gone now. Spirits generally do that. Once they get their message across, they disappear as quickly as they show up.”

After the call with Emma, I sat in my office staring at the print on the wall again, this time for several minutes. I wasn’t studying it but going over the conversation with Emma several times in my head until my office phone rang. It was Steele. I answered it on autopilot. “Yeah, Steele?”

“Come in here, Grey, I have some questions on one of those companies you organized.”

“Be right there,” I said and disconnected the call.

I didn’t get right up and obediently hustle into Steele’s office. Instead, I continued staring at the print until it morphed into a picture of the gravestone at the Pomona Cemetery. Two names. Two graves. Sisters, tragically torn apart, now united forever. Picking up another Swiss chocolate, I held it aloft as if making a toast. “To you, Dottie and Elaine. May you both finally rest in peace.” I popped the chocolate into my mouth and closed my eyes, letting the rich goodness slowly melt in tribute.

the end