Booby Trap (7 page)

“That will change, too, in time.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” She continued to stare at the door to Laurie’s room. “Maybe if I didn’t look so much like my sister.” She gave a half shrug. “I know Kirk can’t look at me without seeing her, and I doubt he ever will.”

I thought about the things I wanted and needed to ask Lisa. Although I was here on a mission for Lil, I had also hoped to bring some comfort to Lisa. I decided I would test the waters and see if she was ready to talk. If not, I would have to try another time. My nosiness did have some boundaries of decency and respect.

“Lisa, may I ask something?”

She looked at me and nodded slowly.

“Do you think Laurie met her killer on the Internet?”

The young woman stared at me—but not in surprise. I continued. “One theory is that each of the Blond Bomber victims were contacted first via computer chat rooms. Did Laurie spend time on the computer chatting?”

Lisa placed her lemonade on the coffee table before sitting back and crossing her arms in front of her. “The police asked me the same thing, but as I told them, I didn’t think so. She was always on the go, hardly ever home. The police even took her laptop but found nothing. Laurie hardly ever used it.” She looked at me. “My sister worked long hours at the hospital. She was a very dedicated nurse. When she wasn’t there, she was with Kirk or hiking or exercising. She couldn’t sit still for long.”

“I read that they believe she was abducted from the hospital parking lot.”

Lisa nodded and put her head down. Her long hair covered her face like a curtain. “Yes.” Again her shoulders started to shake.

“Lisa, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. I realize this must be horrific for you. In fact, maybe I should go.”

“No.” She looked up at me through the golden hair. “Please don’t go. It’s difficult, but maybe it’s good to talk about it.”

It was a long time before she spoke again. I gave her plenty of time to gather her thoughts.

“Laurie worked very late that night. When I got up in the morning and noticed she wasn’t home, I thought maybe she’d spent the night with Kirk. But then I remembered he was in Africa on a photo shoot. I called her cell phone but got no answer. The hospital hadn’t seen her since the night before. I called several of her girlfriends, but none of them had seen her or heard from her. When she didn’t come home or show up at the hospital for her next shift, I called the police.”

Lisa looked up at me with glazed eyes. It was apparent she’d told this story before, many times. It came out of her in an almost robotic fashion, in a deadpan narrative.

“The police located her car at the hospital in the employee parking lot. There was nothing remarkable about it. No sign of a struggle or anything like that.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Three days later, they found her body in the canyon.”

I love the way
playing basketball affects Greg. He plays every other Sunday morning, and following the games he’s flushed and sweaty and glows with energy. It’s as if he’s been supercharged with superpowers. And I must admit, some of our best sex has been following this Sunday morning ritual.

Usually I go with him and cheer with the other wives and girlfriends from the sidelines. And sometimes following the game, we go out with some of the other players for brunch. Today, Greg came directly home, dying to know about my meeting with Lisa Luke.

“How’d it go?” he called to me as soon as he was through the door.

Before I could answer, Wainwright barked a couple of times and dashed down the short corridor towards the far side of the house. Greg had originally purchased a run-down one-story duplex with mirroring floor plans and converted them into a charming single-family home with a Spanish hacienda feel. The two bedrooms and bath on the left were remodeled into an extra-large master suite and super bath, and the two bedrooms and bath on the right were remodeled to accommodate his wheelchair. One bedroom served as his home office, the other as a guest room. The two small original living rooms and kitchens were combined into one huge living room, kitchen, and dining area, with the spaces flowing from one to the other without walls and barriers. Off the kitchen and dining area was a covered patio, and beyond that, an extra-large garage accessed from the alley. Every square foot was perfectly designed to assist Greg in living as effortlessly as possible. The home had even been featured in a magazine for the disabled.

It was in the direction of the guest room that the dog had bee-lined. Seamus, on the other hand, had earlier squished his big furry body under the low buffet in the dining room and was sulking. He looked out at the two of us, especially me, with a murderous eye so intense it was almost a solid death threat.

Greg’s knowing eye caught on Seamus, then followed Wainwright’s path. The dog let out a few yips and whines, and we could hear him pawing at a closed door.

“What’s going on?” Greg asked as he wheeled towards the hallway.

“We sort of have company.”

Greg cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “And the company is sort of shut up in the guest room?”

I nodded. “It’s of the four-legged variety.”

“Feline or canine?”

“Feline. Laurie Luke’s kitten.”

“Permanent or temporary?”

“Not sure yet.”

Greg started down the hall. “Let’s get a look at the little bugger.”

Before I left Lisa, she’d asked for a favor—if I’d take Muffin. She cited that it wasn’t fair to the poor creature to be shut up all the time, but she just couldn’t bear to be around the cat. It reminded her too much of her sister. I knew Greg wouldn’t mind, and I knew Wainwright would love the idea of another playmate. The only sourpuss at the Grey-Stevens homestead would be Seamus. That sealed it—three against one. But I took Muffin with the contingency that we were only fostering the animal until Lisa could get back on track. She was right, it wasn’t fair for Muffin to suffer because some monster had killed her owner, but in my heart I hoped that Lisa would, down the line, have giver’s remorse and want the cat back for the same reason she was giving it away—it reminded her of her sister. If that time came, we would return it to her.

Once Muffin got over the fright of seeing a big yellow dog loping after her, she settled right in and became part of the family. By that evening, she was curled up asleep in Greg’s lap while we watched a movie. The fact that the little animal bonded more with Greg seemed to mollify Seamus a bit. Although he didn’t come up on the sofa with us, he at least came out from under the buffet. Baby steps. Or in this case, kitty steps. It was the same when Wainwright and Greg came into my life.

“So, we’re still on to visit Gordon Harper tomorrow night?” Greg asked as we got ready for bed.

I paused mid-tooth brushing as I tried to remember who Gordon Harper was.

“Gordon Harper,” Greg reminded me. “Crystal Lee Harper’s ex-husband.”

Of course, victim number two. I spit. “Yes, sure.” I rinsed and spit again. “When and where? Do I need to leave work early?”

I patted my mouth dry with a towel, then applied moisturizer to my face and cream to my hands. By the time I climbed into bed, the revised family unit was jostling for position. Greg was sitting up, a book propped in his lap. Wainwright was curled on the scatter rug at the foot of the bed. Seamus, unhappy with Muffin’s presence, was standing guard at the end of the bed, trying to keep the newest addition out of his territory. After receiving a few well-placed bats and hisses, Muffin curled up on the outside edge of the bed, against my knees. It was a good thing we had a king-size bed.

“Probably not.” Greg looked up from his book. “Gordon said he can’t meet us until nine, so why don’t you come home and relax a bit? If you don’t want to cook, let me know, and I’ll pick something up on my way home.”

I smiled at him as I picked up my own book from the nightstand. “Sounds good.”

I started to read but couldn’t keep my mind on the page.

“Greg.” He turned to look at me. “If Laurie Luke was someone who didn’t chat online, how do you think the Blond Bomber found her?” I put my book back on the nightstand and turned to face him.

Greg put his book face down on his chest. “I can think of several possibilities.”

“Me, too. But you first.”

He chuckled. “Okay. First, maybe Lisa didn’t know her sister chatted online. After all, they didn’t spend
all
their time together, and didn’t Lisa work days and Laurie nights?”

“Very true.”

“And maybe the fact that those other victims were online a lot is just a coincidence. After all, most adults under sixty are online these days.”

I thought about it. “I honestly don’t think Laurie Luke came across him online. That just doesn’t add up in her case. But the coincidence thing could be just the ticket. I’m thinking maybe the Blond Bomber finds his victims another way. We have to find out what else these women had in common.”

Greg put his book on the nightstand and turned off his light. “Or, the Blond Bomber just picks his women at random.” He scooted down until he was flat and turned towards me.

I turned off my light and did the same. “Another thought I had is maybe he sees them somewhere, fixates on them, and stalks them until he gets them alone.” This theory was one that gave me hope that Lil’s theory about Brian was wrong. “But if that’s the case, then Brian Eddy can’t be the Blond Bomber. A busy surgeon wouldn’t have time to stalk anyone.”

“Good point. Hopefully, more pieces of the puzzle will fall into place tomorrow.” Greg kissed me soundly. I turned around, and we fell asleep in the spoon position.

A short time later, I was awakened by a furry tail tickling my nose. Muffin had found her sweet spot—directly under my chin. I fell back to sleep hoping Lisa Luke could find the same peace.

Monday morning I was
in the middle of organizing boxes of documents when I received a surprise visitor. It was Zenobia Washington, my oldest and dearest friend, better known as Zee. I first met Zee a billion years ago right here at Woobie. She hasn’t worked here in more than fifteen years, but she still knows a lot of the people. Sometimes, I wish she didn’t—like now.

This wasn’t the first time Zee had popped in to say hello, though usually she calls first to make sure I’m available. But one look at her told me this was not a social call, nor had she dropped by to coax me out to an early lunch or a friendly cup of coffee. The scowl on her cocoa-bean face was set as firmly as the faces on Mount Rushmore and was not nearly as warm. Adding to that was her stance. In spite of her church-going, sweet-potato-pie nature, Zee has this imposing stance that can stop a hardened criminal in his tracks and make him want to call his momma.

Zee and I are about the same size and height, meaning we’re both as wide as we are tall. At just past ten thirty, Zee stood in my office doorway dressed in a very stylish copper-colored pantsuit with perfect hair and makeup. An expensive designer handbag dangled from one hand. The other hand was clenched and positioned on one bulky hip. Her pump-clad feet were slightly apart.

If I knew where my momma was, I’d probably pick up the phone.

I thought about lightening up the moment by sticking my tongue out at her, but I was afraid she’d bite it off. I hadn’t seen her this angry in a long time, and it worried me.

“Geez, Zee, you look like you’re about to go postal.” I moved to clear my visitor’s chair of files. “Come on in and sit down.”

For a moment, she just glared at me, then she stepped inside and sat down. The scowl was still intact, but at least sitting she couldn’t keep up the full effect of the stance.

“I need to talk to you, Odelia.” The words were said through clenched teeth.

Just as I made a move to shut the door, Steele barged in. “Do you know where Jill is?”

I shook my head. “No, sorry. She’s probably making copies or something.”

I looked at Zee. Her glare was still fixed on my face. Steele caught it also.

“Damn, Zee, you look like you just caught your husband with a Laker girl.”

Zee turned her frosty stare in Steele’s direction. “Mr. Steele, you will cease your vulgar comments and leave. And please shut the door behind you. I need to speak with Odelia alone.” She turned her piercing eyes back to me.

Steele hesitated, not sure whether he should leave or call security. I picked up my phone and called Jill’s desk. When I got no answer, I called the front desk and asked our receptionist to page her to Steele’s phone number.

“I’m sure Jill will get right back to you, Steele. Why don’t you just mosey along so Zee and I can chat?”

He looked at the work piled on my desk and started to say something, but one glance in Zee’s direction and he wisely held his tongue. Quickly, I covered the two steps to the door and attempted to herd him out.

Steele leaned towards me just as I started to shut the door. “I’ll bet you one of those disgusting apple fritters you love that your home girl’s heard what you’re up to.”

In a blinding flash, I knew Steele was probably right. Somehow, Zee had found out about the Blond Bomber. I stole a glance in her direction. Yep, that could be it. My involvement in yet another potentially dangerous undertaking would drive her nuts. Then again, Steele could be wrong. It happened. Not often, but it did once-in-a-blue-moon happen.

I sat down and looked Zee straight in the face, sure I’d never see that apple fritter.