Hide and Snoop (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (10 page)

I’d bet Clark would know how to get a speedy DNA test done, too. He not only had his own law enforcement connections, he now had Willie’s underground contacts at his disposal. It boggled my mind. But a lot of good either Willie or Clark would do me if I didn’t have any DNA to give them. But maybe I was getting too fancy; maybe what I needed wasn’t DNA but a good old-fashioned fingerprint. I’m sure Clark and Willie could help me with that, too.

There were two deep drawers on the right side of the vanity. I yanked one open, then the other. In the bottom one I found a man’s travel toiletry kit and some travel-sized bottles of shower gel and antiperspirant. Bingo! I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the bag was gaping open. Just inside was a comb. I grabbed it and stuck it in my purse, along with the small tube of Speed Stick, careful to touch only the narrow sides and not the wide side or the top. Then I rinsed my hands, shut off the water, and freshened my lipstick and fluffed my hair, hoping the lipstick and hair repair would explain what took me so long.

When I exited the bathroom, Racel was nowhere in sight, but I could hear her talking to someone. I tuned my ears but only picked up one voice. She must be on the phone. Hopefully that would buy me more time.

With caution, I stepped down the hall, away from the main part of the house. Just past the bedroom used by Lily was another bedroom, but this one had been converted into a home office. The desk was a smaller version of the one Erica had at the office. The room was spotless and tidy. Against the wall were bookcases. Positioned by the large window was a reading chair and lamp. Unlike the living room, there were personal items in this room, including a couple of photos on one of the bookcases. After looking over my shoulder for Racel, I moved closer to examine the photos.

One was Erica’s law-school graduation photo. Next to her stood a smiling younger woman who looked like Erica but was slimmer and shorter, and with lighter hair. I wondered if this was Connie Holt. Without picking it up, I studied the photo, trying to burn Connie’s face into my memory. I glanced at the other photos. Most were of a younger Erica with friends, maybe taken during college or law school. I saw no other photos of Connie and none of Lily or of Connie with her family. I found this strange. At our house, photos of all our family members were on display, including those of Greg’s nephews. There were even photos of my nieces and their families, even though I’d only come to know of their existence in the past few years. Most people liked to keep photos of family nearby.
Most people. Erica Mayfield was not most people,
I reminded myself. Then again, those photos could be on display in a part of the house I hadn’t seen yet.

I turned and stepped back into the hallway. Still not seeing Racel, I continued down the hall until I came to the end and the master bedroom. Like the living room, it was straight out of a fancy design magazine and didn’t look very used. The furnishings were feminine and expensive—girly-girl all grown up and with a healthy bank account.

My ear caught a sound coming from behind a partially closed door on the opposite wall. It wasn’t loud or particularly noticeable, more like a presence than a noise.

I ventured towards it, stepping softly. The sound stopped. I took another step towards the ajar door, thinking it might be the master bath or a closet.

“Odelia.”

I jumped at the sound of my own name coming from behind me. With a hand over my chest to steady my racing heartbeat, I turned and faced Racel. She was standing in the hallway, a static duster with a long handle in her hand. I wasn’t sure if she was using it as a cleaning device or as a weapon.

“Oh,” I said, once I caught my breath. “I thought I heard you in here. I wanted to say goodbye.”

She smiled at me, but it seemed forced. “Nope, I was just cleaning up in the den.” She looked at my empty hands. “You have the bear, don’t you?”

“Yep.” I patted the side of my tote bag. “Safe and on its way to Lily.” I hoped the fuzziness of the bear didn’t disturb any prints that might be on the deodorant container while the items were squished in my bag. The bag was roomy, but still there might be co-mingling. It’s not like I carried plastic bags and gloves around like the professional snoops.

Racel escorted me down the long hallway towards the front door. We walked in silence. She seemed to have her mind on something else. It might have been concern about her mother. I had more questions to ask but was worried I’d already used up my allotted time with Racel’s patience. But it was Racel who had the next question.

She paused just before we reached the door and gave me a quizzical look. “By the way, where is Lily?”

“As I told you, she’s with a friend of mine today.”

“I mean,” she amended, “if Lily’s mother comes back and wants Lily, what should I tell her?”

She had a good point. I dug into an outside pocket of my tote bag and pulled out a business card and a pen. “Here,” I said,
scribbling
my cell phone number on the back of the card. “On the front is my office information. On the back, my cell phone. You can give this to her.”

Racel took the card and studied the front and back. She seemed to have something else on her mind. While she tucked the card into a pocket of her jeans, she said, “I’ve been trying to reach Erica. I’ve left messages on her cell and with her secretary, but haven’t heard back. Could you tell her to call me when you get back to the office?”

Get in line, girlie.

“Sure, except I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.”

Racel seemed surprised. “She’s not at the office today?”

“Nope. She left the office yesterday and no one has heard from her since.” I thought about Mark Baker. Erica might be in touch with him, so I tacked on, “That I know of.”

I pointed back towards the master bedroom. “Did she sleep here last night?”

“She makes her own bed unless it’s the day to change sheets, so I wouldn’t know.”

“And she didn’t leave you any note or anything saying she’d be gone?”

“Not a word.” Racel put the duster down on a table. “I texted her Wednesday that I might be back on Thursday. She sent a text back saying okay. But Thursday my mother wasn’t feeling well, so I sent another text early in the morning saying I’d be back on Friday instead. I got a message back from Erica almost immediately saying it was fine and not to worry about Lily, she’d found someone else to watch her.”

“That someone was me.”

“Seems so. I’ve heard nothing from her since.”

I thought about that. Connie Holt was missing, and now Erica. Although
missing
might not be the best word for the situation. They both probably knew exactly where they were. I began to wonder if Erica was out hunting for her sister.

I asked the same question in a little different way. “And Erica never said she might be out of town for a few days?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Why do you need to reach her? Do you need more time off?”

Racel changed into her earlier stern self. “No, but today is payday, and Erica didn’t leave my money. She’s never forgotten that before.”

eleven

It wasn’t often I
went looking for Mark Baker. In fact, today might even be the first time since he came to work at the firm. I walked down the hallway until I came to his office door. It was open, but the lights were off. His office computer wasn’t turned on either. Was he late, sick, or taking a vacation day? I was hoping it was door number three, and that maybe we could catch him and Erica off on a romantic jaunt together. Even though Racel didn’t seem to recognize his name, it didn’t mean Mark wasn’t the man Erica was seeing. I was about to head back to my office when I spotted Mark walking towards me from the direction of the kitchen. He was on his personal cell phone and speaking every low. In his other hand, he held a mug of coffee. Slung over his shoulder was the messenger bag he used as a briefcase. He’d apparently just arrived at work. I stood still and waited for him.

As he approached me, he said into the phone, “I gotta go.” He ended the call and walked past me into his office. Without a word to me, he turned on the lights and placed the coffee mug on his desk.

“You have a minute?” I asked.

Mark sloughed off the bag and slipped out of his jacket, hanging both the bag and the jacket on a hook behind the door before answering.

“Sure.” He sat down and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over a knee. A smug grin crossed his face. He probably thought I was here to throw in the towel or to announce my layoff. “What’s up?”

He picked up a pen and tapped it on his leg a couple of times before sticking it into his mouth—a nervous habit, to be sure, and similar to Carl’s. We all have nervous habits. When rattled, I twist the ends of my hair or knock my knees or devour Thin Mints.

I stepped inside his office but did not take a seat, choosing instead to lean against his doorjamb. I hoped it made me look nonchalant about my visit, even though it was anything but. I took a quick glance around his tiny cell. It had once been my office, and much of the time I’d found its size cozy. It was definitely more private than the one I have now—the one Mark coveted. Maybe if I let Mark have my office, Erica and Mark would back down and I’d be able to save my job. Then again, it might also be that first step down the slippery slope to extinction, like a woolly mammoth slipping into a tar pit. Offering up my office as a peace offering might also be seen as a sign of weakness—a white flag of surrender. And I was not the type to surrender easily. Just ask my husband.

“Have you heard anything from Erica since Thursday?” I asked Mark.

“Maybe,” he answered, his face revealing nothing. He’d put the pen down to speak. “Why?”

“Carl Yates is looking for her, and so is her cleaning lady.”

A spark shot from his eyes like a tiny ember from struck flint, then just as quickly it disappeared. “How do you know about her cleaning lady? Did you call her house?”

I wasn’t about to tell this clown I had been at Erica’s home. “No, I didn’t call her home,” I answered truthfully. “But her cleaning lady has called Alyce looking for her.” It was the truth, and I was thankful it could be verified should he decide to check out my story.

He studied me a moment in that unnerving, quiet way he had. I held my ground, refusing to come across like a sick and elderly antelope cut from the herd by a hungry lion.

“I have no idea where Erica is,” he finally said. “She only told me she’d be out of the office a few days.” He started to say something, then stopped. Putting down the pen, he picked up his coffee mug and took a drink.

“Did you just remember something?” I asked, prodding him to continue. Dollars to donuts, this man was hiding something.

He shrugged as he swallowed his coffee. “I was just wondering about the kid. Is she okay? Is that why you’re looking for Erica?”

“Lily’s fine. Like I told you and Alyce earlier, she’s with a friend of mine.” I latched my eyes onto his, staring down the beast. “Carl really does want to speak to Erica, the sooner the better.”

I started to leave and had one foot into the hallway when I stopped. My gut told me to keep moving—to go back to my own office and continue with my hunt for Erica and dirt on the two of them. Instead, I turned back to Mark Baker. In anticipation of my departure, he was already sitting up straight and booting up his computer for the day.

I didn’t wait to get his attention before plunging ahead. “Why are you and Erica so determined to get rid of me?”

“What?” He looked up, surprised by my confrontation.

I took a step closer to his desk and lowered my voice. “Why are you gunning for me, Mark? And don’t say you’re not. The whole firm knows it. Erica’s been openly campaigning against me with the partners.”

He narrowed his eyes in my direction but said nothing.

I narrowed mine right back at him. It was a staring contest of knitted brows and scrunched vision. “When, Mark, when did I ever pee in your Wheaties? When you came here, I was kind and professional and welcomed you.”

“It’s not personal, Odelia,” he finally said, relaxing his face. “I need the job, and I’m willing to fight for it. It’s that simple. In this economy, it’s survival of the fittest.” He eyed me up and down. “Maybe it’s time for new blood around here.”

It took everything in my power not to pick up his phone and brain him with it, but adding assault to my résumé wasn’t going to convince the partners I was the one to keep. I turned and started for the door before I changed my mind about settling this with a brawl.

Just before I stepped out into the hallway, I tossed a warning his way. “Never underestimate a middle-aged woman, Mark. It’s the quickest way to be handed your heinie.”

Back in my office, there was a voice mail from Carl waiting for me. He was asking if I’d found out anything about Erica yet. I called him back, letting him know no one had seen her since Thursday, and as for Mark, I’d just begun to scratch the surface. Carl told me to dig deeper and faster.

Geez, I’d only been snooping less than twenty-four hours, and part of that time was spent being a mommy. I wasn’t a miracle worker.

It was lunchtime, and I was hungry. I also had a stuffed bear in my bag, along with a hairy comb and Speed Stick, that needed attention. There were several secretaries bunched together around small tables enjoying their lunch and gabbing when I entered the firm’s kitchen. Another was watching her meal heat in the microwave. They were discussing some of the shows they’d seen on TV the night before. Giving them a quick hello, I opened a drawer and rummaged around for something to protect my heisted booty from Erica’s house. The firm supplies paper goods like towels, napkins, and plates, along with plastic cutlery, but they also supply plastic wrap and sometimes baggies for packing up leftovers. Behind the box of plastic wrap, I located the sandwich bags and grabbed a bunch.

Returning to my office, I closed my door and got to work protecting the evidence. No one would think it odd that my door was closed. I often closed it during lunchtime for privacy. Using a tissue, I transferred the comb and the Speed Stick into their own separate baggies and sealed them. Then I put in a call to my big brother on my cell phone.

“Hey, Clark,” I said as soon as he answered. “It’s Odelia.”

“Hi, sis. Nice to hear from you.” From the upswing in his voice, I knew he meant it.

“How’s Mom?” I called my mother every week. They were trying calls. She’d never been warm and fuzzy, and old age had made her even more cantankerous. “When I called her last Saturday, she said she was ready to die. Said something about if she was still alive come winter, she was stepping in front of a snow plow.”

“Humph,” my brother snorted. “She’s fine. So fine she’s planning a bus trip to Branson, Missouri, with a bunch of other geezers. That old bird will outlive both of us.”

“I sincerely hope not,” I said, then quickly added, “not that I want her dead, but considering the age difference, it would be nice for us to go after her, don’t ya think?”

“Affirmative.”

I paused before jumping into the reason for my call. Taking a deep breath, I forged ahead. “I was wondering if you could give me some help, Clark.”

“Oh, Christ,” Clark groaned. “What are you up to your neck in now?”

“It’s for work,” I added quickly. I gave my big bro a rundown of what was happening at the office and how I’d been given the task of saving my own job.

“So what can I do to help?” The groaning was gone, replaced by sincere concern.

“I need to find out if the other paralegal has been spending time at Erica’s. I…,” I hesitated, searching for the right word. “I
appropriated
some personal items from her guest bath that I think might belong to him.”

“You mean you
stole
them, don’t you, sis?”

“Po-tay-toe. Po-tah-toe.”

Clark chuckled, the snarky phrase going over better with him than it did with Carl Yates. “Uh-huh. Continue.”

“I have hair on a comb and possibly fingerprints on the deodorant. Can you ID those for me?”

“Tests like that don’t grow on trees, Odelia.”

“But I’ve seen ads online for quick DNA testing.”

“True, and those can run you anywhere from a few hundred to a couple of thousand, and the results can take time. Plus you would need a sample from the suspect and a good sample to match it against,” Clark clarified. “Does the hair in the comb contain follicles?”

“Beats me.” Through the baggie, I checked out the comb. For the first time, I noticed the few short hairs caught in the comb were fair. Mark’s hair was dark.

Crap
. That meant someone else was a possibility.

“Without the follicles, that hair will probably not help. The best DNA samples come from a swab of the mouth. Is that other paralegal going to let you swab his mouth?”

The sarcasm in Clark’s question made me wiggle my nose with annoyance. “Then how about the fingerprints?” Even though the hair wasn’t a match, I wasn’t ready to give up on nailing Mark.

“We might be able to lift a set off, but I’m not sure how clear it would be. This stuff isn’t as easy-peasy as they make it look on TV, you know.”

“Between your law background and Willie’s connections, I thought this might be fairly simple.” My shoulders were starting to droop with disappointment.

“Willie has a lot of information at his disposal, but I’m not sure access to a national fingerprint bank is one of them. But with him, you never know.” He paused. I hoped it was to come up with a solution and not the beginning of a goodbye.

“Tell you what, sis. Can you get that guy’s fingerprints? Then we can try to match them against the ones you might have stolen. That would be easier than trying to find a way to match them against unknowns.”

I wrinkled my nose at his second suggestion that I was a thief but sat up straight, ready to grab at the assistance Clark was offering. “I can certainly try.” As I said the words, I wondered how in the hell I was going to accomplish my mission. I’d already made one uncharacteristic visit to Mark’s office, and I’d left with flair. At least I thought I’d left with flair. Going back so soon would ruin the effect.

“As soon as you get the prints,” Clark continued, “overnight them to me at my Phoenix office. I’m actually at the airport on my way there now. And send it for Saturday delivery. Someone will be there to receive it.”

“How long will you be in Phoenix?”

“Not sure, but at least a few days. Maybe I can pop over to see you and Greg when I’m done.”

“We’d like that, Clark,” I said with encouragement. “Please try to make it.”