Hide and Snoop (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (13 page)

Jennifer smiled. “That Lily is a cutie. It was such a blessing that Hank and Connie were able to adopt her.”

My ears pricked. Still holding the sweater, I turned away from the mirror. “I didn’t know Lily was adopted.” I handed the sweater back to Jennifer with some reluctance. “I haven’t known Connie very long, but she’s never mentioned it.”

“Lily was adopted maybe a year ago, I think.” Jennifer turned to Amanda for confirmation. “Is that right?”

Amanda nodded. “About that, maybe a little longer. She and Hank had been wanting a child for so long. They are both over the moon about that little girl.”

I moved over to a display of silver jewelry, all of which looked like handcrafted original pieces. Jennifer stepped over to the counter and set the sweater down. “Those are done by a designer in Santa Fe. Exquisite, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “May I see those earrings?” I pointed to a pair in the upper left-hand corner of the display. Jennifer reached for the wrong pair. “No, those, to the left,” I directed. “To your right.” Her fingers finally touched the correct pair. “Yes, those.”

As soon as I had the earrings in my hand, Jennifer moved a mirror over so I could take a look. After pushing my hair behind one ear, I held one of the earrings up to it to see how it looked. Amanda moved over to the counter to watch. The silver was swirled in an interesting pattern, almost as if it had been melted, then captured mid-drip. At the end was a nice-sized teardrop of a blue-green stone.

“The stone is kyanite,” Amanda informed me.

The earrings were beautiful and would go with several of my outfits. I turned the card over to check the price. It was reasonable. I didn’t want to pump the Quinns for information, then leave without buying something. It didn’t seem right. At least that’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

Another customer entered the shop, and Amanda went off in her little black dress to help her. From the way she greeted her, the customer must have been a regular.

Jennifer tapped the sweater on the counter. “Those earrings would go great with this sweater.”

I looked up from my reflection in the mirror. “Oh, you’re good.”

Jennifer smiled, knowing I meant it as a compliment.

I put down the earrings and pushed the pair towards her. “I’ll definitely take these.” I eyed the sweater but didn’t touch it. “How long would it take if I special ordered my size?” She knew I meant the tempting knit.

“A few weeks, depending on how many orders she has ahead of you.”

I considered the time frame involved and used it to apply the brakes to my shopping impulse. This was Southern California. It might be wet and dreary today, but in a few weeks we may be in the grip of a heat wave. Hell, in a few days it could be in the upper seventies. It was hard to tell. If I’d discovered the sweater in November, I would have been more tempted. If they had it in the store in my size, no doubt I would have grabbed it today.

“I think I’ll hold off on it and just take the earrings.”

While Jennifer rang up my purchase, I asked, “Have you met Erica Mayfield, Connie’s sister?”

Jennifer’s omnipresent smile melted. Just as quickly, she plastered it back on, but this time the smile was forced. “Yes, she’s been in the store a few times with Connie.”

When the other customer left the store, Amanda joined us. “Cora stopped by,” she told her sister, “to see if we had any new arrivals. I told her by the end of next week we’ll have several new pieces from that estate sale.” She turned to me. “We just purchased a bunch of new inventory from this old estate—fun stuff, strictly old Hollywood glamour—but it takes time to mend, clean, and prepare the items for the store.”

As she spoke to her sister, Jennifer pushed my credit card slip across the counter for my signature. “Odelia here just asked if we’ve met Erica Mayfield.”

“Humph,” was all Amanda said.

Seems Erica was just as good at making friends outside the office as she was at work. I decided to push and see what happened, even if I did have to lie my ass off. “Connie once told me she and Erica didn’t see eye to eye on much.”

“That’s an understatement.” Jennifer placed my earrings in a small cream-colored bag and handed them to me along with my receipt.

Amanda nodded, her streak of pink rippling in a sea of dark brown. “Erica’s always been hard on Connie, but I think the real falling out started when Connie and Hank adopted Lily.” She looked to her sister for confirmation.

Jennifer agreed. “She wasn’t happy at all with the adoption. Frankly, I think she’s jealous of Connie and Hank’s happiness, and always has been, even before Lily.”

“Remember,” chimed in Amanda. “That friend of Connie’s threw her a baby shower, and Erica refused to come.”

I thought about how Erica treated Lily like a nasty boil that needed lancing. Did she not like the idea of adoption or children in general? And I could see Erica being jealous of her younger sister’s marriage. Erica struck me as the green-eyed type—like the Wicked Witch of the West being jealous of Glinda. Yet, when Connie needed her to, Erica took Lily into her home.

Or rather, into my home.

Before leaving the parking lot at the Golden Quail, I called Zee to check on Lily. She was doing fine and didn’t seem to miss me at all. I was relieved and sad at the same time.

“I just found out Lily’s adopted,” I told Zee. “She’s been with the Holts for about a year or so.”

“Poor baby.”

“Yeah, given up for adoption, only to land in this mess. I went by the Holt home and it looks like no one’s been around for days.” Zee can be a worrywart, so I left out the part about the ransacking by parties unknown and me breaking in while wearing gloves.

“Are you talking while driving, Odelia?”

See what I mean? Imagine what she’d say if she knew the truth about the Holt house.

“No, I am not talking while driving,” I insisted. “I’m in the parking lot of a shopping center, about to head home. I wanted to make sure it’s still okay to leave Lily with you tonight.”

“Sure, no problem. We’re having a great time. Pick her up tomorrow anytime you like.”

I patted the side of my tote bag. Just before leaving the Golden Quail, I had spotted a pair of sweet silver earrings set with peridot, Zee’s favorite stone. I had Jennifer ring them up as a thank-you gift to Zee for babysitting Lily—and me.

fourteen

I decided to wear
my new earrings to Isaac’s birthday party. Greg liked them and considered it a small price to pay for the information I’d gleaned from the Quinns. While we got ready for the party, I brought him up to speed.

“I’m not happy about you going into that house alone,” Greg said as he slipped into his shirt and started buttoning it. “Not happy at all.”

“You know you would have done the same, if you could have.”

Greg stared at me, then shifted his eyes away. He seldom let being in a wheelchair limit him from doing anything, but there were some things he couldn’t do. Sneaking into a house was one of them.

“Yes, I would have, but I still don’t like you being there alone,” he argued. “You should have waited so we could do it together. I could have provided watch and backup.”

“You knew I was going over there, Greg.” I slipped on a light gray sweater with a bold argyle print on the front and looked in the mirror. It was nice, but the sweater from the Golden Quail would have been nicer. I sighed, not sure if I was mourning the fact that I didn’t wear a size small or that it would take weeks to get the right size.

“Going over there, yes,” he continued, unwilling to let it rest. “But I didn’t think you’d break into the house. What if the people who trashed the place had still been there?”

After slipping into some shoes, I went to Greg and placed my hands gently on his shoulders. “But they weren’t, honey. And I didn’t just bust in there. I made sure no one was around. And I had my pepper spray.”

He seemed somewhat mollified, or maybe he was saving his strength. Greg was more of a “win the war, not the battle” type, while I had trouble understanding that big-picture concept. Not that I hadn’t seen my hubs rise to the occasion on a few battles. Underneath his good looks, intelligence, and decency beat the heart of a born warrior—a general able to lead troops into battle. People see the wheelchair and immediately think
disabled
. Trust me, there is nothing disabled about Greg Stevens. His legs just don’t work.

Greg looked deep into my eyes, then picked up my hand and kissed the palm, letting his warm mouth linger against my skin. I wondered if we might be late to the party or skip it altogether.

“I’d be lost without you, Odelia. You know that.”

“We’d be lost without each other, Greg. But I’ll promise to be careful if you will.” I leaned down and kissed his mouth.

By the time we got out the door, we were running very late.

“So, what do you think?” Greg asked as we drove to the Thornwood party.

I shrugged. “Tell them I was held up at work.” I was driving my car for two reasons: it was easier to park in a crowded neighborhood than Greg’s van, and Greg would probably be kicking back several beers tonight with his basketball buds.

Greg laughed as he reached over to pat my thigh. “I’m not talking about being late,” he clarified. “I’m talking about the mess with Erica and her sister. Do you think Erica knows the trouble Connie and her husband are in and is trying to help, or do you think she took off so she wouldn’t have to take care of Lily?”

“Hard to say. I just don’t understand why Erica would be so hard-nosed about Lily’s adoption. It’s not like it affects her.”

“You never know, sweetheart. Maybe the family has a lot of money and Erica didn’t want to share the wealth with a non-blood relative.” He glanced over at me. “Do you know anything about their family?”

“All I know is that they don’t have any other brothers and sisters and that their parents are retired and live somewhere in the Caribbean. Alyce once let that slip.”

“There could be some money involved, then. Maybe Connie took off to see her parents. If she’s in trouble, she might have gone to them to get help.”

“But if she was going to do that, why didn’t she take Lily?”

“Maybe her parents aren’t that thrilled with the adoption either.”

We drove in silence before Greg added, “Considering what happened at the house, maybe Connie left Lily behind so she could move faster and with less notice.”

I nodded, understanding that idea made a lot of sense. In just a few days, I’d learned you can’t move quickly with a kid in tow.

“Do you know what Hank Holt does for a living?”

“No, but they had a nice house in a very good neighborhood.”

Greg stared out the windshield, his eyes narrowed in thought. I could see him processing everything, looking for common threads. “Maybe Hank’s in trouble—drugs or something—and that’s why he left the house.”

“Meaning the people he screwed over came looking for him, so Connie took off?” I suggested, adding my two cents’ worth.

“Something like that. And maybe Erica’s trying to help them out of the jam.”

That idea sounded plausible. Whether Erica liked Lily or the idea of Lily or not, Connie was her sister, and she might be inclined to help.

“Could be,” Greg added, “Erica followed her sister to wherever the parents live to give Connie some support.”

“More likely, Erica followed her sister there to argue against any support from Mom and Dad.”

He squeezed out a small chuckle. “You really don’t like Erica, do you? Even Steele at the height of his most obnoxious behavior didn’t command this much disgust.”

“Greg, do I have to remind you that this is the woman who is going to great pains to get me fired?” I shot a scowl his way. “Really, do I?” I took a deep breath. “Steele would never have done that, no matter how much he huffed and puffed about it.”

We lucked out and found a parking spot just a house away from Isaac and Melina’s place. Before we got out, I dug out my cell phone and started texting, my index finger jabbing the screen of my phone at high speed.

“What are you doing?” Greg asked.

“Texting Clark. I’m giving him Erica’s name, along with Connie’s and Hank’s, and asking if he or Willie are able to check if any of them left the country or took flights anywhere.”

“It’s a tall order, but if anyone can do that off the grid, it would be Willie.”

Finished with the message to Clark, I started to open the car door. Greg stopped me by putting a strong hand on my arm. “Sweetheart, we’re about to go to a party with our friends. Let’s put this aside for the rest of the night and just enjoy ourselves.”

I started to argue but stopped. Greg was right. Lily was in good care, and there was nothing I could do tonight about Erica and her sister or about my job.

“Deal,” I said, giving him a kiss. “And if Clark answers tonight, I’ll just wait until morning to respond.”

“That’s my girl.” Greg winked at me, a gesture that always turns my innards soft and gooey.

fifteen

The dog looked at
me with great expectations. He was standing by the back door where we kept his leash, wagging his tail and giving me a big dose of saucer eyes.

“Go back to bed, Wainwright,” I whispered to the eager animal. “It’s not time for a walk.” On the mornings I walked for exercise, I took Wainwright with me. He loved it and so did Greg, because it gave Wainwright more exercise. Greg stayed behind in bed with the two snoozing cats but was usually up by the time I returned.

That’s where Greg was now—in bed, with both cats curled up somewhere in the folds of blankets. Thanks to all the booze he’d had at the party, he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. I, on the other hand, sober and with a head filled with ideas and concerns, couldn’t fall asleep to save my life. After the news ended, I watched Jay Leno for a while but was too antsy to pay attention or to drift off. Getting out of bed, I took my mental pacing into the living room, where my feet could join in on the fun.

I felt guilty when I looked at Wainwright. He’d followed me out to the living room and then to the kitchen while I made some tea. He stayed hot on my trail just in case I decided to take that walk. Had it been morning, I might have done it to burn off some of my anxiety.

I tiptoed back into the bedroom to grab my cell phone from the charger on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. I swore to myself. I had forgotten to plug it in after we got home from the party. Going back into the kitchen, I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter where I’d dropped it. The phone was in its little pocket. I yanked it out and checked to see if Clark had texted me back. He had. The phone also alerted me that I had very little power left. Crap!

I opened Clark’s text message. He said he didn’t know if they had those resources, but he’d check and let me know. Again, he said it might take a day or so to find out. I was sending him a reply when my phone shut itself off for lack of power.

Dead phone in hand, I turned off the lights and headed back to bed. A disappointed Wainwright trailed after me. After putting the phone on the charger, I scooted back under the covers, but sleep still eluded me. I had ants in my pants and way too many ideas in my head about what was going on.

I tossed and turned, finally deciding to go into the living room again before I woke Greg. The ever-hopeful Wainwright followed me. Plopping down on the sofa, I pulled an afghan over me and opened a book. I read a few pages but couldn’t concentrate. My skin was crawling. Termites of doubt and anxiety chewed away at me, relentless in their damage to my nerves.

I kept going over everything I’d done, heard, and learned today. It had been a busy day, with lots of new faces and information, feeling more like five days squeezed into the past eighteen hours. There was something I’d missed—something I needed to revisit, like a movie that is so complicated you need to see it a few times before finally comprehending the plot. I kept telling myself to sleep—that it would come to me in the morning when my brain was rested and not so crowded. But, like most of my body parts, it wouldn’t listen. Instead, it nagged at me, flaunting that ghostlike piece of half-remembered information like a hooker strolling in front of a prison yard.

Casting off the afghan, I stood and started touching my toes. Up. Down. Up. Down. From his position on the floor, Wainwright stared at me like I’d lost my mind. Then I started in on lunges and arm twirls. I needed to wear myself out and clear my mind. If they weren’t so noisy, I’d be doing jumping jacks. Since I don’t exercise much outside of walking, I figured I’d be pooped in no time.

No such luck.

Huffing and puffing, I threw myself back down on the sofa. We’d have Lily tomorrow and she’d wear me out, but I needed that relief now. I considered hitting the liquor cabinet or, at the very least, taking a shot or two of
NyQuil
. Instead, I closed my eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, concentrating on fluffy clouds and soft kittens and raindrops on roses and all the other junk Julie Andrews sings about.

It worked, at least sort of. I felt my body relax and my head loll against one of the sofa pillows.
Finally.
Sleep couldn’t be too far behind. I smiled to myself as my mind organized my thoughts and put them all way, each in their own little cubby, until later.

All but one.

It stood there inside my head like the last kid picked for kickball. Looking for attention, it waved at me.
Yoo-hoo, remember me?

I bolted straight up, my eyes wide, my brain on turbo, but instead of many ideas buzzing around inside my head, there was only one: Erica might still be in the area. She didn’t say she was leaving town, and no one said she’d told them she was leaving. We all assumed it when we couldn’t reach her.

My brain rewound until it came back to my visit to Erica’s house and my encounter with Racel Barlongo. I’d heard a noise in Erica’s closet when I was snooping, I was sure of it. And Racel had taken a long time to come to the door. She could have been helping Erica hide. The call to Alyce looking for Erica could have been a ruse, along with telling me Erica hadn’t paid her. I wished that I’d been able to look in the garage to see if Erica’s car was there.

I let out another deep sigh. Finally I had cracked what had been bothering me. Maybe now I could get some sleep and head back over to Erica’s in the morning to investigate. Greg and I could go there before we picked up Lily.

I was halfway to the bedroom when another thought hit like a slap. By morning Erica could be gone off somewhere or in hiding again. What I needed was the element of surprise. I had to catch her off guard when no one else was there to give her time to hide. I had to go there now.

Slipping back into the bedroom, I grabbed the jeans I’d worn to the party off the chair where I’d tossed them. Greg moaned and changed positions. I froze. He’d have a shit fit if he knew what I was up to, but I didn’t want to wake him and ask him to come along. He needed to sleep off his buzz. With no traffic, I could get down to Newport Beach, check it out, and be back in no time. If Erica wasn’t there, it would be a quick in-and-out. If she was … well, I’d cross that bridge when I got there.

Back in the living room, I pulled on my jeans, then snarled quietly when I realized I needed to go back into the bedroom for a bra and top. That would mean possibly waking Greg. I thought about checking the dirty laundry, but it was in our bathroom, just off the bedroom. Not to mention every time I went into the bedroom Wainwright followed me, his dog tags jingling in the silence and his toenails tapping on our hardwood floors like Gregory Hines doing a dance routine.

Giving up on the idea of dressing properly, I tucked my nightgown into my jeans. It gave me a bulky, diapered look around my butt, but this was not the time to be fussy. I stuck my feet into the old sneakers I kept by the back door and grabbed my jacket off the hook above it. As I slipped into it, I realized it wasn’t going to work. The jacket was bulky and sometimes made noise when I moved. I sloughed it off and grabbed the gray fleece hoodie on the peg next to it. It had stopped raining earlier, and I was mostly going to be in the car. The hoodie would have to do. I thought about snagging my cell phone, but that was a lost cause. It was in the bedroom, and it was dead.

Wainwright stood at attention, waiting for the signal we were heading out for our morning walk. It didn’t matter to him that it was still pitch-black outside. When I didn’t grab his leash, he let out a low whine.

“Shh,” I whispered to the animal. Tiptoeing to a low cabinet, I opened it and pulled a few Snausages from a box. Wainwright’s tail wagged with enthusiasm.

“Here, boy,” I whispered, holding out my hand. The happy dog gobbled them up. Then I pointed to his thick, pillowy bed set where the living and dining room areas met. “Go to your bed,” I
commanded
in a hushed voice. The animal looked at me with great disappointment. “Go on,” I urged. The obedient, loyal dog, his big yellow head lowered, made his way to the bed and lay down with a heaviness that just about broke my heart.

I made it from
Seal Beach to Newport Beach in record time, thanks to the lateness of the evening. As I expected, the streets in Erica’s neighborhood were dead. Except for security lighting, most of the houses were dark, but every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of a light in one of them—maybe someone with insomnia like me. I made my way to Ceiba Place but didn’t turn onto the cul-de-sac. Instead, I turned around and parked on the street that intersected it, heading back out of the development. If Erica was home, I didn’t want to alert her to my presence by driving up to her house.

The damp chill of the night penetrated the hoodie and my nightgown as I walked the short block to Erica’s house. I stuck my hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt and shivered as I scurried along soundlessly on my sneakers, keeping as much as possible to the shadows.

There was definitely a light on inside Erica’s house, and it was too bright to be a night light. It shone through the closed blinds of two large corner windows as a testament to my theory that Erica hadn’t gone anywhere. One window faced the street; the other, the neighbor to the left. I tried to remember the layout of the house to get an idea of which room this light might be in. My recollection was that the living room was in the back, same as at Connie’s house, so that it looked out onto the patio. The kitchen was in that direction also and off to the right. That should make these windows part of the master bedroom.

Light also shone through the frosty narrow windows that framed the front door. I halted to study the bright glow, then looked back at the location of the bedroom windows. Lights had to also be on in the living room or the foyer for it to be this bright by the door. I could also hear music through the door. Someone had to be home and definitely was not in bed.

Should I knock softly or ring the bell? If I did, Erica might shut off all the lights and pretend she wasn’t home. She might also call the police. The element of surprise might be best, providing she didn’t keep a gun in the house. Then the surprise would be on me. It also crossed my mind that I should have brought along my pepper spray. When I was here this morning, I hadn’t noticed an alarm system, but I hadn’t been looking for it. And the keypad could have been by the back door that led to the garage. That’s where I’d seen it at the Holts’. In the end, I decided to ring the doorbell. It might ruin the element of surprise, but at least I wouldn’t be in danger of getting my ass shot off.

I was having a bad case of déjà vu. No one answered the bell, just like this morning. I rang it again. Nothing. I pressed my determined finger against the glowing plastic button next to the door and leaned in, letting it ring for a full ten seconds. I could even hear it on my side of the door. Still, nothing. Either Erica was ignoring it or wasn’t home at all. Maybe Racel was in residence, using her boss’s home as a private getaway, and didn’t want to get caught. I glanced at the driveway. This morning a Ford Focus had been parked there while Racel was here. Now the drive was empty. I rang the bell again, followed by a soft knock.

“Erica,” I hissed in a low tone. “It’s me, Odelia. Please open up. It’s important.” I waited. Nothing. I repeated my actions, but again there was no response.

I went to bedroom window. It was no help. The blinds were shut tight. I returned to the front door. I’d already broken into one house today; why not go two for two?

I reached down to put my hand on the doorknob to the front door, then stopped. I’d forgotten to bring my gloves. I’d stashed the package in the glove compartment of my car. Looking back down the street, I weighed whether or not I should go back and get them, then decided against it. I was cold, and it was late. Sticking my hand into the pocket of the hoodie, I used the fleece to keep my prints off the doorknob. Much to my surprise, it turned.

I should have realized something was wrong right then and there, especially considering what I’d found at the Holts’, but instead I forged ahead.

Gently pushing the door open, I called out, but not too loudly, “Erica, it’s Odelia.” I took a step inside. “I tried the bell, then saw the door open.” Okay, it was a partial fib. Getting no response, I stepped fully into the foyer. “Erica?”

I glanced down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, then back in the direction of the living room. The place seemed empty and as neat as when I’d seen it this morning. I stopped and listened. Stepping slowly into the living room, I followed the sound of music, which seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

“Oh!” My voice stuck in my throat as I almost stepped into something on the carpet. It looked like blood. Lots of it. It was smeared and going in the direction I was heading. I followed the trail with my eyes as it led into the adjoining dining area and ended where a woman was lying in a pool of blood.

I dashed to her side. It wasn’t Erica and it wasn’t Racel, but whoever it was, she’d been shot in the chest more than once. Digging through my pockets, I swore as I remembered my cell phone was at home, recharging. I darted into the kitchen, looking for a land line and hoping Erica had one. A lot of folks were dispensing with home phones and only using cell phones. I spotted a cordless phone nestled in its cradle on the kitchen counter and grabbed it. With shaking fingers, I punched in 911.