A Body to Spare (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (3 page)

My heart stopped. My mouth went dry. I stopped playing in the spilled coffee and took a gulp of what was left in my coffee cup, draining it. Years ago William Proctor had embezzled millions from an investment company that he had created and headed, leaving thousands of people bereft of their nest eggs. He went on the run and has been in hiding since to avoid prosecution, even though a few years back he returned every penny. Our paths crossed when I started snooping into the murder of one of the clients of the law firm I worked at then. Over the years, Willie has become a special friend to both Greg and me, and not too long ago my half brother Clark, a retired cop, went to work for a company that is believed to be owned by Willie, though nothing can prove that.

Elaine Powers is a killer—an older woman scarred for life to the point of no return. Her street name is Mother, and she heads a very scary organization of women who specialize in hits for hire. We’ve crossed paths a few times, and even though she’s saved my bacon and assisted me in the past, I’d hardly call her a friend, as I would Willie. Just thinking about Elaine makes me want to hide in a closet. Both Willie and Elaine have magical powers when it comes to ferreting out information about people, especially people who live and operate in the darkness of illegality.

“No,” I answered. “They haven’t mentioned either of them yet, although Special Agent Shipman did allude to my having friends in low places. By the way, did Shipman introduce himself to you before bringing you into this room?” Before Seth could answer, I added, “He’s with the FBI. Is that why he’s here? Because they think this might be related to Willie or Elaine?”

“Yes, Special Agent Shipman introduced himself to me.” Seth scratched something on his legal pad. “And I’m sure it’s a connection they’re thinking about. I don’t know about Elaine Powers, but Willie is definitely a federal matter.”

“Do you really think Willie or Elaine would willingly put me in jeopardy? Both of them operate in the shadows. This is the sort of bold statement neither of them would make—not to mention, Willie is
not
a killer.”

“Since I’ve never met either personally, I’ll have to reserve my opinion.” Seth looked directly at me. “Odelia, someone killed Finch and put his body in the trunk of your car. That on its own is crazy enough, but adding that note was a message. It’s a challenge, perhaps a taunt, to either you or someone you know who might be looking for Finch. Otherwise why would they choose your car out of the millions of cars in Southern California?”

What Seth said made sense, but as much as I squeezed my gray matter, nothing came out. It was like trying to get juice from a shoe. “I need to somehow ask Willie and Elaine about it,” I finally said. “But how can I do that with the police watching? Not to mention, I don’t even know how to contact them.” I actually knew I could probably reach Willie through Clark, but when it came to reaching Elaine I was clueless, and for the most part glad of it.

“It’s not just the police,” Seth said. “If the note was aimed at one of them, it could be a ploy to get you to flush them out into the open.”

“So I don’t try to contact them and hope that justice will prevail and my big behind isn’t put in jail? What if whoever did this set me up to take the fall by planting that body?”

He shrugged. An attorney who shrugs makes me nervous. If they’re clueless, how in the hell am I supposed to feel confident in justice prevailing?

“Yes, that’s another thought,” Seth said when he was through shrugging. “One of the other creeps you’ve tangled with in the past could be trying to even the score. That’s one of the things we’re going to suggest to the police. Maybe they can go back and check on the whereabouts of the people you’ve helped put behind bars. Maybe they’re not behind bars any longer. Maybe they have friends on the outside trying to even the score. Wasn’t there one situation several years back involving a federal matter?”

I put my brain through a series of tricks again. “I think so.” It was my turn to shrug, after which I dropped my head into my hands and uttered a moan that sounded like a wounded animal. “And maybe I should just accept a murder rap and save everyone the trouble.”

three

“Would you quit griping
about your car, Odelia?” my usually sunny husband said when we finally made it home, Mom in tow. “It’s evidence in a murder investigation. Who knows when or even if we’ll ever get it back? We’ll lease one for you in the meantime.”

I shivered as the image of that man’s naked dead body in the trunk of my car flooded my brain. It almost felt like I’d found him in my home. “I’m not sure I want it back,” I said as I deposited the Chinese takeout we’d bought on the way home on the counter along with my purse. I knelt down on the floor and gave Wainwright, our golden retriever, a hug. He was very happy to see us, but I could tell the animal was a bit put out. Normally, he goes everywhere with Greg, but as soon as Greg realized he had to hit the road for Long Beach for an indefinite amount of time, he’d swung back to the house and deposited his canine companion at home. Fortunately, we’d caught him before he’d gone very far on his way to the Gull. Muffin, our tiny gray cat, came up for her own greeting. I hugged, kissed, and petted them both, enjoying the simplicity of it after an afternoon of interrogation.

“If you don’t want the car back, Odelia,” Greg said as he propelled his wheelchair over to where I was receiving furry love, “then we’ll buy you another and sell that one when we get it back. I’ll call the insurance company tomorrow and see what they say. Who knows? Maybe there’s an odd clause about stuff like this.”

“I’ll bet you could sell the car on eBay,” Mom said. She put her purse on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa with a tired plop. She looked like she’d been dragged behind our van all the way home. “I’ll bet you’d get a bundle for it if you advertise that a dead body was found in it. You could call it the Murder Mobile.” Greg and I turned to her like synchronized swimmers. She was dead serious. Tired or not, she hadn’t lost her gift for the bizarre.

Greg’s cell phone rang. Looking at the display, he announced, “It’s Clark.” Again, both of us turned our heads toward Mom.

“You called Clark, didn’t you?” I accused my mother.

“No, I did not,” she answered, her pointed, straight nose tilted upward in defiance. “I
texted
him and sent him the photo of the dead man in your trunk.”

“Oh, no,” I said, lowering my butt onto the floor with a thud. Falling backwards, I lay there on the hard wood with my eyes shut, just imagining what my brother was going to say about this. Both Wainwright and Muffin thought I was playing. Muffin crawled all over me while the dog gave my face an enthusiastic bath.

“Hi, Clark,” Greg said, finally answering. “By the way, I have you on speaker.”

“I’ve been calling you, Odelia, and Mom for hours now,” Clark yelled into the phone. “I was thinking the worst after seeing that pic Mom sent.”

“We had to have our phones off while at the police station. I just turned mine on,” Greg explained.

I rolled over, got to my knees, then to my feet, and staggered to where I’d left my purse. Grabbing my phone, I looked at the display. Sure enough, there were six messages, all from Clark—four texts and two hysterical voice mails. I turned my ringer back on, glad it was off before. The thing must have been vibrating in my purse like a runaway sex toy while I was talking to Seth and the police.

“Was that body really in Odelia’s car?” Clark asked, finally checking the volume on his voice.

“Yes, it was,” called out Mom. “I told you that in my text.”

“Just confirming, Mom,” Clark said.

“What? You don’t believe me?” Mom said, getting all huffy. “It happened at the car wash today. The dead man was tucked into her trunk as nice as you please, except that he was naked.”

“Yes,” Greg confirmed before a family phone brawl broke out, “there was a dead body in the trunk of Odelia’s car. We have no idea how it got there. And yes, he was naked.”

“Who was he?” Clark asked. “Some guy who made fun of Odelia’s obsession with Thin Mints?”

“Really, Clark?” I snapped as I moved closer to the phone.

“Sorry, sis,” Clark swiftly apologized. “It just sort of slipped out. As macabre as the situation is, it’s also pretty funny. A new low for you. Or should that be a new high?”

“We’re not laughing here, Clark,” Greg said, his own voice getting edgy.

“Have you been drinking, Clark?” Mom asked, her brows scrunched with worry. Both she and Clark were recovering alcoholics, and both take their longtime sobriety seriously.

“No, Mom, I haven’t been drinking,” Clark assured her. “It’s just that this is the sort of stuff that winds up on TV, and I’m not talking about the news.” He paused. “So what are the details? Did the cops ID him yet?”

“Yes,” Greg answered. I was glad he was fielding the questions because I’d answered more than my share already today. “His name is Zach Finch. He’s around twenty-three years old and from a small town in Illinois outside of Chicago. Sound familiar to you?”

There was silence while Clark gave it some thought. “It does sound familiar,” he finally said, “but I can’t place from where right now.”

That was when I decided it was time to get involved. I indicated for Greg to give me the phone, which he did. I switched it off speaker. “Hi, Clark,” I said into it. “It’s just me on the line now.” I started moving toward our bedroom for some privacy. Just before I closed the door shutting the master suite off from the rest of the house, I heard Greg say, “I’m going to unpack the food and get ready to eat. I’m starved.”

“Clark,” I said to my brother, “attached to the body was a note that said ‘found me.’ The cops are wondering if it has anything to do with some of my past run-ins with criminals, including Willie and Elaine Powers—you know, the mother of hitmen, or should I say hit
persons
.”

“The police asked you directly about Willie?” Clark asked with concern.

“Not right away,” I explained. “At first they danced around my connections to known criminals, but after I lawyered up they asked about them by name. They’re wondering if whoever left the body was trying to get to one of them through me—at least that’s one of their theories. Another is that it’s payback for someone I messed with along the way.”

Clark was silent again on the other end of the phone, putting his cop training to work. “But ‘found me’ sounds like you’ve been looking for this guy, or at least someone has. Are you sure you’re not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“My nose is clean and is minding its own business, thank you very much.”

“At least for the past few months.” Clark snorted. “I’m proud of you, sis. You made it through Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years without a corpse, although you were damn close to Thanksgiving with that last one. Too bad you couldn’t have made it to Easter.”

“Not funny, Clark. You and everyone else seem to think I do this for laughs or out of boredom. Well, I don’t.”

There was a short silence from Clark’s end, except for the occasional huffs and puffs and grumbles. Clark is in his early sixties and can come off grumpy and snappish, but he’s solid as granite. He lives outside of Phoenix, Arizona, in a swanky fifty-five-plus community and oversees security for the company everyone believes is linked up the food chain to Willie.

“Tell you what, sis,” Clark finally said. “Let me check around on my end and see if the name rings any bells with either of your underground friends.”

“You know how to get in touch with Elaine?” I asked, my mouth falling open.

“Not really, but I might be able to find people who know
people
who do. One thing I’m pretty sure of, though: I doubt she did this. It’s too flamboyant. Hitmen work behind the scenes, in the shadows. They don’t wave flags to get attention.”

“That’s what I told Seth.”

“Is Seth Washington representing you?” Clark asked with surprise. “He’s not a criminal attorney, is he?”

“No, but I don’t think I’ll need one. He helped me through the questioning. He’s done that before.”

“Well, if things heat up, don’t hesitate to get yourself a good criminal attorney,” Clark advised. “I think the world of Seth and Mike Steele. Both of them are top-notch guys and attorneys who would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, but neither have the expertise to help you if this gets messier and deeper on your end.”

“Seth already said that,” I told my brother. “He already has someone lined up, should we need him.”

“Good,” Clark said with relief. “In the meantime, keep Mom out of it. I’ve already told her in a text that she’s not to post anything about this on her blog or on Facebook or Twitter. Damn social networking,” he groused. “Why can’t she just knit or watch talk shows like most women her age? Having this splashed across the net just might be what the perps are hoping will happen.”

Clark had been right earlier. In spite of the situation’s gravity, there was an underlying current of the ridiculous to it—a gallows humor that hung over it like a noose shown via shadow puppets on the wall. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “Seth gave her a very kind but forceful lecture on the subject before we left the police station. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll beat it into her.”

He laughed. “I’ll be out there tomorrow. We can beat her together.”

“You’re coming to California tomorrow?” With great speed, I searched my memory but couldn’t remember Clark telling us about this trip. “I hope you’re not coming here because of this. We have it under control, Clark.”

“Nope, it’s a last-minute trip,” he explained. “Dev asked if I’d come out and go to dinner with him and you guys tomorrow night. At first I wasn’t sure I could make it, but today my calendar cleared up a bit so I’m driving over bright and early. I’ll be in town for a couple of days unless something crops up at work.”

“Are you staying with us or with Mom?”

“Frankly, I’d prefer staying with you and Greg, but Mom would be hurt if I do that. Besides, if I stay with her I can keep an eye on her shenanigans until her interest in this latest corpse dies out.”

“Why don’t you take her back to Arizona with you like you did before?” I suggested. “Just until this blows over.”

“She’d never fall for that ploy again, Odelia. She’s too sharp to be bamboozled twice.” He hesitated, then added, “And so am I.”

It was my turn to be quiet for a few seconds. “Clark,” I ventured, “do you know why Dev is gathering us up for dinner tomorrow night?”

The hemming and hawing on the other end of the phone was more than sound—it was solid and touchable.

“He’s retiring from police work, isn’t he?” I added when the stall continued.

“Yes,” Clark admitted. “He is. It’s something he’s been discussing with me on and off for a few months. He wanted another cop’s perspective on life after the badge, but he asked me not to say anything. He wants to retire and enjoy life. He’s only sixty, but he’s been on the job for close to forty years. He got into it right out of school. How did you find out?”

“Andrea Fehring told me today at the Long Beach police station. Apparently Dev just announced it at work, and the news traveled fast among other cops.” I smiled to myself. Dev worked hard and was one of the best people I’d ever met. He deserved to retire and enjoy his life. “Do you know yet what he’s going to do with his time?”

“I’ll let him tell you that at dinner,” Clark said. He took a deep breath. “Okay, sis, I’m going to run and pack for my trip. I want to be on the road before dawn. Will you be at work tomorrow or is it one of your days off?”

“I’ll be going in for a bit. Steele’s off on his honeymoon and wants me to keep a lid on things in his absence, although Jill’s perfectly capable of that herself.”

“That’s right,” Clark said with a chuckle. “Mike Steele got married this past weekend. How was it?”

“Lovely, just like his bride. The ceremony and reception were tasteful, elegant, and intimate—and, like Steele, not a hair or rose petal out of place.” I laughed. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Clark. Call me as soon as you get into town.”

“Will do, sis. And you keep your corpse count down to just this one, okay? At least until I get there.”