Booby Trap (19 page)

Memorial was a much
older hospital than Hoag and was situated in a less affluent area. Yet, from the smell you couldn’t tell the facilities apart. Both gave off that unmistakable and unmatchable odor of antiseptic, illness, and fear, a fragrance dedicated to failing health and helplessness. No matter how modern and shiny the hospital, stepping inside one always gave me the willies. The emergency room was the same, just intensified.

“How is he?” I asked Greg as soon as I located him in the emergency waiting room.

“He’s resting. The doctor wants to keep him overnight as a precaution, but I asked him to wait to explain everything until you got here.”

“Any sign of Gigi and her no-good spawn yet?”

“Not a word. I called the house a few times but there’s no response.” Greg paused, measuring his words before he spoke. “You know, Odelia, Gigi and JJ might have been out of the house when Horten fell. Let’s not be too quick to blame them or wonder why they’re not here. You know Gigi never turns on the cell phone you gave them. They simply might not know about your dad’s accident.”

As usual, my husband was the voice of reason in contrast to my knee-jerk nastiness.

“You’re probably right.” I sighed. “Dad didn’t say anything about how he got here?”

“I asked him, but he was too drugged on painkillers to say. They’ve stitched his head wound up.”

The doctor called us in and explained why he wanted to keep Dad overnight. Besides the gash on his head, his injuries included a tweaked back, a few bruises, and a slight concussion. Other than that and his usual blood pressure issues, my father seemed to be in pretty good condition. But because of his age, the doctor wanted him kept for observation. Dad had told the doctor that he had slipped in the kitchen and hit his head on the corner of the table before falling to the floor.

While they prepped Dad to take him to a room, I answered questions for his admission paperwork. Greg went back to the waiting area to call Gigi again. We were almost done when a nurse rushed in and asked me to help with a problem.

Dashing into the waiting room, I found Greg and JJ in a heated verbal exchange. Gigi stood nearby, telling Greg to leave her poor JJ alone. JJ is in his sixties, of average build but with a big potbelly from years of beer drinking and inactivity. He was dressed in his usual attire of khaki shorts, a tee shirt, and flip-flops. Over the tee shirt, he wore an open, loose short-sleeved shirt. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days, but on him it wasn’t trendy. Gigi was in her usual uniform of prickly polyester pants and a stretchy top, both in Day-Glo colors. Her beehive hairdo looked pinker and shinier than usual. Hooked over her right arm was a large, floppy purse made of quilted fabric in pastels.

The other people in the waiting room moved away from my family. I didn’t blame them one bit.

I stepped between JJ and Greg. “What’s going on?”

“The crip is in my face,” whined JJ. “Tell him to heel.”

I glared at my stepbrother before turning to Greg. My husband’s face was the color of borscht, even his ears. Generally, Greg is pretty even-tempered. It takes a lot to push his buttons, which is one of the things I like best about him. But once activated, look out. And this current look was beyond anger. It was even beyond being pissed off. Greg was outraged, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t about being called a
crip
.

“Tell Odelia what you just told me,” Greg said to JJ.

JJ looked at me. “Why don’t you just mind your own goddamn business, both of you?”

Greg persisted. “Tell Odelia how her father got to the hospital.” The words were delivered through clenched teeth.

“Yes, mind your own G. D. business,” chimed Gigi. “Horten’s my husband. As his wife, he’s
my
responsibility, not yours.”

Greg turned on my stepmother. “You should be ashamed of yourself, treating that sweet old guy that way.”

The nurse stepped forward. “Please, folks, be quiet, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“I want to see my husband,” Gigi demanded. “When’s he gonna be done so we can go home?”

“Dad’s being admitted,” I told her.

“For a little bump on the head? That’s ridiculous.”

That got my attention. “So you
knew
he’d fallen and hurt his head?” Gigi and JJ looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

Greg wheeled in closer to JJ. “Tell her, JJ. Tell Odelia how you and Gigi dumped Horten at the hospital and then went on your merry way.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“That’s right, sweetheart. They dumped him off on his own. Gigi had a hair appointment. JJ drove her there and waited to bring her home.” Greg looked disgusted. “From the smell of him, I’d say he waited in a bar.”

“It’s not my fault Horten slipped.” JJ looked at his mother for support.

“Your father’s always whining about something,” Gigi added. “After he got up, I gave him a towel for his head and told him to go sit down. But he kept going on and on about how much it hurt and about the bleeding. About drove me nuts. So I told JJ to drop him off here on our way to the beauty shop. We’d come back for him afterwards. And here we are, just like we promised Horten. Don’t know why he called you at all.”

“Dad didn’t call us. The hospital did.”

I was livid and thought my head would explode. I wanted to hit Gigi—knock her on her skinny, hateful ass, not caring one whit that she was in her eighties. Instead, I tried to pull myself together and behave civilly.

“My father has a concussion and pulled back muscle. The doctor wants him to stay here tonight. They’re taking him to his room now.” I looked Gigi in the eye. “I’m sure as soon as he’s settled, you can see him.”

She seemed to be making a decision. “He’s not going anywhere. We’ll be back after supper.” She turned to go. “Come on, JJ, take me home where I can get some peace and quiet.”

JJ started past me and Greg. “Next time he falls, maybe he won’t get up. Then we’ll all get some peace.”

Faster than a coiled snake, Greg reached up and grabbed the front of JJ’s shirt with both hands. With a mighty grunt, he threw JJ into a group of empty plastic chairs lined up against the wall. JJ hit the chairs and landed sprawled across the floor.

“If you ever speak to my wife like that again or mistreat Horten in any way, I’ll show you just how able-bodied this
crip
can be.”

Applause broke out from the other folks in the waiting room.

It was nearly eight o’clock when I finally made it home. I’d sent Greg ahead of me hours before to make sure Lisa was getting along okay, then I stayed next to my father’s bed. I seemed to be spending a lot of time next to hospital beds these days and hoped it was not going to become a habit. I left when Gigi and JJ returned.

Coming through the back door, I was greeted by meows and a wagging tail from the three four-legged kids. I went through the petting ritual, which now included Muffin. I was also greeted by three humans—Greg, Seth, and Zee.

I sniffed the air. “Do I smell Zee’s famous chicken and dumpling casserole?”

“That you do, sweetheart.” Greg gave me a big kiss, which was followed by hugs and kisses from Seth and Zee.

“After the day you’ve had, I wanted to make sure you had a hot meal.” Zee winked and headed for the kitchen. “The food’s ready. Just sit down and relax.”

Numb with exhaustion, I obeyed, sitting at the dining table, which was set for dinner. Zee brought out a big salad bowl filled with greens. Greg followed with a basket of warm bread.

Seth handed me a large filled wine glass. “How’s your dad?”

I took a big gulp of the wine before answering, holding the soothing and tasty alcohol in my mouth before letting it trickle down the back of my throat. “He’s going to be fine. Doctor said the overnight is just a precaution.”

Zee returned to the table holding the large, steaming casserole dish. She placed it on a trivet on the table. “Come on, everyone, let’s eat while it’s hot.”

I glanced around the table, counting the place settings. “There are only four places.” I turned my head, looking around, listening for evidence of our houseguest. “Where’s Lisa?”

“She’s where?”

Before anyone could tell me again, I took another big swig of wine, this time draining half the glass.

“In Compton. At my Aunt Miriam’s.” Zee sat in the chair next to mine, smiling, dishing out the food and passing plates around like we were in a Norman Rockwell painting. “She’ll be perfectly safe there.”

“Compton?” I polished off the rest of my wine and looked around the table for the bottle.

Compton, California, is primarily black and known for its high concentration of street gangs and homicides. It can be a very dangerous place, even lethal, if you don’t know your way around its neighborhoods.

Zee stopped serving and fixed me with a stern look. “I grew up in Compton, and I’m fine.”

“I don’t notice you living there now. In fact, I’ve heard you say you’d never let your own children go there, not even to visit Miriam.”

Seth refilled my glass. “Odelia does have a point, Zee.” Zee shot her husband an even sterner look.

“The idea was to hide Lisa for a while. How in the world is a white, blond, depressed woman going to go unnoticed in Compton?”

“It’s not like she’s strolling the streets, Odelia. And besides, Dev thought it was a good idea. Of course, Lisa didn’t like it at all. She wanted to come here, as planned, but Dev convinced her. Finally, she gave in and left the hospital with us.”

“Dev knows about this?”

She nodded.

“Actually, sweetheart, it’s quite a clever plan.”

I looked across the table at Greg. “You know about it, too?”

“They told me when I got home. Just let Zee explain.”

“Can we at least talk about it while we eat?” Seth asked.

He held out a hand to me and one to Greg on his other side. Following his lead, we each took the hand of the person on either side of us while Seth said grace. Then we dug into our food while Zee gave me a rundown of her plan.

Not wanting to see Lisa hiding out in my home any more than I wanted Lisa to go back to her apartment, Zee put on her thinking cap. When she arrived at the hospital to pick up Lisa, she ran it past Dev, who said it might be worth a try. In a nutshell, using wigs, makeup, and an old-fashioned housedress, Zee dressed up Lisa as an elderly black woman. Quickly, they spirited her out of the hospital and into Seth’s waiting car, and from there drove Lisa to Compton. Lisa never removed her disguise until she was safely inside Miriam’s house.

“So now, instead of just Greg and me being involved, we’re all involved.” I turned to Seth. “Even you?”

He shrugged as he ate. “What can I say, I was beginning to feel left out. Besides, I didn’t want Zee going alone, in case the bad guys did follow her.”

Even though I still had my reservations, it did seem like a pretty good plan. After all, who would think of looking for Lisa Luke in Compton, and it did free me up to look in on my father and work more on the Brian Eddy issue. My brain was like a closet stuffed to the rafters with odds and ends. One less item to jam in there would certainly be a relief. And Lisa and Zee’s Aunt Miriam should get along fine. Miriam would mother Lisa to death, and no one needed more motherly care right now than Lisa Luke. One taste of Miriam’s sweet potato pie and Lisa might even consider staying in Compton.

After Zee and Seth left, Greg and I tidied up in the kitchen, then headed to bed. I was exhausted, and he didn’t look too perky himself.

“By the way, Steele called.” Greg was sitting up in bed, reading and waiting for the eleven o’clock news to begin.

I popped my head out of the bathroom. “Steele? When?”

“Shortly before you got home. I forgot to tell you. He said he didn’t want to call your cell in case you were still at the hospital.”

“What did he want?”

“Just checking on your father’s condition.”

I ducked my head back into the bathroom to apply my nightly moisturizer. Finished, I shut off the light and crawled into bed.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I told him Horten was going to be okay, but I wasn’t sure you’d be in tomorrow.” Greg looked at me. “I don’t think you should go in. Take the day off, sweetheart. Look in on your father, try to relax a bit. It’s a Friday, and you could use a nice long weekend. Besides, you really need to touch base with Dev tomorrow about everything Jane Sharp told you.”

Greg was right. While working in the kitchen, I filled him in on what I’d learned from Jane and about the connection between the victims and her clients. Whether the Blond Bomber was Brian Eddy or not, both Greg and I agreed the killer was somehow tied to Jane.

“You’re right. I’ll call Dev first thing in the morning before I go to see Dad. Then I’ll pop in on Lisa.”

Greg shot me a warning look. “Don’t worry about Lisa. She’s going to be fine at Miriam’s. And Laurie Luke’s murder is in Dev’s hands now, not yours. Besides, just in case Harper is watching, you might lead him to her. You wouldn’t want that.”

Again, my smart hubby was right. I nudged Muffin over a few inches with a knee. She was scratching around her collar but still managed to squeak out a protest.

“Steele did say one thing, though.” Greg grinned. “He said to tell you that if you do take Friday off, not to worry about it being on your tab.”

“What a prince.”

Once again, I notice Muffin digging around her neck. “That collar is really bothering her. I wonder if it’s too tight.”

“I’ve noticed her scratching at it off and on.” Greg joined me in watching her. “It’s an odd collar for a cat. Maybe it’s too heavy for her.”

I reached over, plucked Muffin to me, and undid the rolled- leather collar. As I rubbed the freed fur around her neck, she went into a state of kitty nirvana and started purring like a outboard motor. When I released her, she curled up in her place by my legs, a satisfied customer.

I held up the collar. “It looks handmade and fairly new, but it is a bit heavy for a young cat.” Opening the drawer of the nightstand, I stashed it inside. I would return it to Lisa when she reclaimed Muffin.

The news came on just as I kissed Greg goodnight and scooted low under the covers. I’d had enough drama for the day and didn’t need to watch any more. I closed my eyes and half listened, knowing I’d be asleep before the first commercial break.

“Our top story tonight: did the Blond Bomber kill again on the heels of his last alleged victim?” I heard the anchor announce. My ears perked up, expecting to hear a recap of Amber’s murder.

“Late this afternoon,” the male anchor continued, “just hours after the discovery of the body of Amber Jorgensen, hikers in Laguna Canyon discovered the body of a woman who might be another victim of the Blond Bomber, the serial killer currently plaguing Southern California.”

I shot up out of bed. With all the worry about my dad, I hadn’t seen the news since Amber’s body was found. Greg, too, was watching the screen, the book on his lap forgotten.

“The body of twenty-nine-year-old Madeline Sparks was found in Laguna Canyon late this afternoon.” The camera switched to an on-scene reporter who was interviewing a rugged-looking young man.

“My girlfriend and I were hiking,” he explained, “when my dog starting going nuts, barking and running back and forth. We followed him and found the girl tied to a tree. She was already dead.” It was clear the guy was starting to choke up. “There was writing on her body.”

The screen switched back to the newsroom, where a photo of a woman was now shown in the upper right-hand corner. Ignoring the protests of both Muffin and Seamus, I scooted on my knees closer to the TV for a better look. Madeline Sparks had been lovely, with clear, smooth skin, bright eyes, and pretty hair.

“Oh my gawd, Greg!”

“What, sweetheart? What’s the matter?”

I jumped off the bed and ran to the kitchen, where I’d dropped my tote bag, returning with my cell phone. “I have to call Dev.”

“Right now? It’s after eleven.”

“Right now. Right this minute.” I pointed at the TV screen, which was now displaying a commercial. “Did you see that girl’s hair? The one in the photo, the latest victim?”

“Yes, of course. And it wasn’t blond. Maybe it’s another copycat?”

I shook my head as I fumbled with the phone. All thumbs in my agitation, I had trouble locating Dev’s cell number on speed dial.

“It’s not a copycat, but it is proof that the Blond Bomber is connected to Jane Sharp.” Finally, Dev’s cell was ringing. “Look for more news, Greg.”

He grabbed the remote and began clicking through the major stations, looking for more late-night news. Finally, he found one showing the same photo and talking about the murder.

“There, see?” I pointed at the screen.

“Not really.”

Then I remembered that I’d forgotten to tell him.

“Jane’s hair isn’t long and blond anymore. It’s now short and red, just like hers.”