Hide and Snoop (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (22 page)

twenty-seven

My stomach was growling,
reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since that cinnamon roll and coffee with Greg this morning. Opening a lower desk drawer, I pulled out a box of Thin Mints, newly purchased just a few weeks before from a Girl Scout troop stationed in front of the grocery store. I opened the carton and tore into one of the double packs. I polished off a handful of cookies, nearly swallowing them whole, and washed it all down with water from a bottle on my desk. Next to my computer monitor was an apple. It wasn’t a cheeseburger, but it was shiny and inviting just the same. After returning the cookies to the drawer, I picked up the apple and got ready to hit the road to the Newport Beach police
station
.

I was going to ask Alyce if she’d seen or heard from Mark Baker, but she wasn’t at her desk when I came out of my office. I jotted a few words on a neon lime sticky note saying I’d let her know when I would return to the office and stuck the note in the middle of her monitor to make sure she saw it.

After a quick stop by reception to let Joyce know I was heading out, I stepped into the foyer to wait for the elevator. Once in the elevator, I took a bite out of the apple. It tasted so fresh, especially after the cookies, I nearly swooned. By the time I reached my car on the fifth level of the parking structure, I was nearly done. After taking one last bite of the apple, I walked over to a trash container and deposited the core. It was one of those heavy concrete and gravel boxes that held a metal liner. My car was parked halfway down the end lane, with many empty stalls between me and it.

Each floor of our parking garage is level and flat, with several long, wide aisles. Parking stalls line both sides of the aisles and the outer edge. The up and down ramps were at the far end, the two enclosed stairwells kitty-corner to each other. Two elevators were located midway on each floor. I liked parking on the fifth level. I usually parked on the outside end facing the next office building. Since most of the cars on this level were bunched near the elevators, and it wasn’t as crowded as the lower levels, there was less chance of my car being dinged or wedged in by other people’s bad parking. Usually my car was by itself, like today.

As I started for my car, I aimed my key fob at the vehicle to unlock it, but the lights didn’t flash, nor was there the familiar click of the door being unlocked. I stopped in my tracks, wondering if I had locked it when I’d arrived. I had been in such a rush to get into the office, I could have forgotten. Or maybe the battery in my key fob was weak, and I needed to get closer for it to work. Another more sinister idea was starting to seep into my thoughts just as I heard someone call my name with urgency.

“Odelia!”

I jumped and spun around to see Carl Yates trotting towards me from the elevator. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his tie was askew.

“Did you remember something else?” I asked him as I dug around in my bag looking for something with which to wipe my hands. In surrender, I used the legs of my jeans.

Without warning, Carl grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me, not hard but enough to gently rattle my teeth. “Odelia, in my office you said something about the police—that once they had my prints I’d make the suspects list. Does that mean the police don’t have my prints yet?”

Leave it to a master litigator to catch all the nuances in a conversation. Had Carl not been so distraught, he would have picked up on that on the spot, not twenty minutes later. The question was, should I tell him the truth? No, they didn’t have the prints, but they do know about the affair. Instead, I played possum and said nothing. Carl’s tall. I’m not. I tipped my head back and latched my eyes onto his. They were wild and desperate and not at all the eyes of the confident man I’d known for so many years. I became alarmed.

He shook me again, this time with more vigor. “Tell me, damn you!”

In all the years I’ve known and worked with Carl Yates, he’s put an arm around me with affection. He’s kissed my cheek at holidays and at my wedding. He’s patted me on the shoulder for a job well done and shaken my hand in congratulations. But never has he touched me or spoken to me with violent intent. I struggled out of his grasp.

“Carl, you’re losing your mind.”

“I have to know if the police know yet about the affair.”

Holding my tote bag in front of me like a shield, I backed up in the direction of my car, taking it slow, as if backing up from a rabid dog. The stairwell was much closer, but Carl could easily jump me as I tried to go down the flights of stairs. “Are you involved in this mess in other ways, too?” I asked him.

“Odelia, I can do things for you if you cooperate. I can save your job. Pay you cash. Anything to keep this under wraps and away from my wife.”

His wife, Louise, was a nice woman and not someone I wanted to hurt, but it was too late, and keeping her in the dark was not in my job description. Neither was taking bribes to cover an infidelity. It quickly occurred to me that Carl seemed only concerned with his wife finding out about him and Erica. It indicated to me that he didn’t have anything to do with the murders or whatever Erica and her sister were involved with, only indiscretion. Of course, I could be wrong, especially considering I was more intent at the moment in saving my hide.

“You don’t understand, Odelia.” He took a step towards me. I took another two steps back. As I hugged my big bag closer, my fingers felt something familiar through the leather of the side pocket.

“Louise and I are going through a bad patch. It happens. It’s going to happen to you and Greg one day, trust me. We’ve even talked divorce. But if we divorce under these circumstances, she could ruin me and my relationship with my children, and you know how important my children are to me. Keep me out of this, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Keeping my eyes on Carl, I slipped my fingers in the side pocket of my tote bag and eased out the pepper spray. He was so hell-bent on his mission, he didn’t seem to notice. When I took another step back, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I was still on track to reach my car, wishing that today I had parked closer to the other vehicles. In that split second, Carl stepped close enough for me to smell his lunch—something spicy.

“Stay back, Carl,” I warned. “You’re scaring me.”

“Odelia, I’m desperate. Please tell me where I stand in this mess.”

He lunged to grab my shoulders again, but this time he wasn’t successful. Just as one of his large hands touched my shoulder, I pulled out the pepper spray, leaned back, and hit the plunger. The stream hit him on his nose, but enough of the mist shot upward into his eyes to be effective. Carl howled and grabbed his face.

I took the opportunity to make for my car, but I didn’t get far. Carl, in his rage and frantic struggle to see, had reached out with one hand and grabbed my sweater. I twisted and turned to free myself, but he had a good grip and was reeling me in like a tuna. Changing my course, I turned to face him again, the pepper spray ready to go, when he went limp in my arms and slid to the ground.

I stared down at my fallen boss as a red stain grew across the white, crisp back of his expensive shirt. I heard a scream, but it took a few seconds before I realized the cry had come from my mouth. I started to scream again, but the sound was cut short as a bullet struck the concrete wall to my left, sending tiny shards into the air. Both times I never heard the shots and couldn’t tell where they were coming from.

I didn’t want to leave Carl. I didn’t even know if he was alive or dead, but I couldn’t help him if I was also down. Staying low, I dashed for the garbage can and hunkered down behind it just as another shot exploded into the wall again. I was torn: should I make a run for the stairwell or my car? The stairwell was closer, but my phone was in my car. I also didn’t know from which direction the shots were coming. And if the shooter chased me into the stairwell, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Peeking out from behind the can, I tried to scan the parking garage, but all I saw were vehicles parked for the day while their owners toiled inside the connected high-rise office building. Visitors never parked on the higher levels. Considering it was just mid-afternoon, it might be a while before anyone came to retrieve their ride. That was both good and bad news. The last thing I wanted was unsuspecting office workers walking into a sniper situation, but it also meant no help was on the way. And if I didn’t hear the shots, neither did parking security. For the time being, I was on my own with nowhere to go. The shooter was probably using some sort of silencer, which made me think contract killer. Mother may have turned down the job, but it was just a matter of time before another hired gun would take the opportunity to make a buck. The only good thing was that Lily was safe.

A moan invaded my thoughts. It came from Carl. He was still alive, but there was no way I could drag him to the safety of either the stairwell or the car. I hoped he wouldn’t move too much and cause the shooter to aim better next time. Fish in a barrel be damned, I had to try the stairwell. The car was simply too far away. Leaving my bag behind the trash can, I dashed to the stairwell and grabbed the door handle. It twisted and turned in my hand, but the door was jammed. As a shot hit the wall next to me, I dove back to the precarious safety of the garbage can.

I had to head for the car and the phone. It was my only option. If I was lucky enough to reach it, maybe I could start up the car and use it to give cover to Carl before the killer moved in to finish us off.

Taking several deep breaths that I realized might be my last, I made ready to dash to my car. I knew I was a big target, but I had to try. Doing nothing meant certain death. I had taken only a few steps, bracing myself against a bullet I was sure would find its mark, when the back door of my car flew open and a man shot out of it at the speed of a human bullet train. It was Mark Baker. In his hand was a gun, and he was headed straight for me.

I staggered backward until I fell next to Carl. I froze where I was, waiting for the inevitable, for Mark to gun me down—paralegal to paralegal. Either he was involved in the same mess as the Holts or he
really
wanted to keep his job. As I scooted back on my butt, my leg hit something. It was the pepper spray canister I’d dropped when Carl slumped into my arms. I grabbed for it, clutching it like life itself, and aimed it at Mark. He saw it and turned his head, raising an arm against the burning spray just before tackling me and sending me flat on my back on the greasy concrete floor. At the same time, a couple of bullets flew over our heads. Once again I didn’t hear the shots, just a high-pitched whizz followed by the sharp sounds of concrete being struck.

I struggled to push Mark off of me.

He held me down. “I’m not the one shooting at you, you fool.” He got off of me. “Come on,” he ordered.

Before I was even halfway to my feet, Mark was pushing me back towards the garbage can while he shot his gun towards an unseen target. One of his bullets struck the back window of a parked car, the sound of shattering glass singing backup to the blast.

“Wait here,” he barked. “Help’s on the way.”

“But Carl.” I started to go back to the fallen attorney, but Mark stopped me with a hard jerk to my arm.

“Keep directly behind this can and give thanks that whoever that is can’t shoot worth a damn.”

Following his order, I hugged the garbage can to me like a long-lost love. Mark covered me from behind, his chest pressed hard against my back. I could feel his head bobbing side to side, his gun at the ready, as he kept watch of both vulnerable sides.

What paralegal certification program did he learn this from?

I heard sirens—not close but closing in—and hoped they were heading this way and would arrive in time to save us. A few more bullets whizzed by, one hitting the garbage can close to my hand. I yanked it back, my heart in my throat. The shots were followed by the sound of footsteps hitting the pavement at a fast clip, then the roar of an engine. A white van pulled nosefirst out of a parking slot at the far end of the parking structure close to the exit ramp. Instead of leaving, it headed our way.

Mark ran forward to meet it. After taking cover behind a parked car, he took shots at the windshield. It exploded. The van swerved and clipped the back ends of a couple cars to its left. The air filled with the sound of gun blasts, breaking glass, and mangled metal. I slapped my hands over my ears. The van slowed down but kept coming. From the passenger’s side, a man took aim at Mark. As the van got closer, I recognized Gary Allen. Driving the van was Alyce.

Mark held his gun steady with both hands and shot at the tires, hitting one. Alyce fought to keep control of the van as it neared us, but the van tipped and swayed like a drunk. I could hear Gary yelling to her. Through the broken windshield I saw him grab for the steering wheel.

As the van passed Mark, it lunged far to its right. Both Gary and Alyce were trying to wrangle the heavy vehicle around the end of the aisle and keep it upright. Thankfully, it was now heading away from us. Just as the van cleared the end of the aisle, it tipped onto its right side and slid across the concrete until it smashed into the only parked car in the area—my car.

When the scraping of heavy metal on concrete stopped, it became eerily quiet, followed a few seconds later by the gut-wrenching screams of a woman from inside the van. Mark approached the van, keeping his gun steady on the vehicle.

I went to Carl just as I heard something crash against the door to the stairwell. The door caved, and officers dressed in flak gear burst through it, guns drawn. Some rushed past me towards the van. Two covered me.

Several police vehicles entered the parking level and raced towards us, sirens blaring. They came to a stop, blocking aisles and surrounding the fallen van. A plain sedan and two paramedic units followed. Fehring jumped out of the unmarked car. Mark no longer had his gun on the van but held it loosely aloft, both of his hands in the air, until he was unarmed by one of the cops.