A Body to Spare (The Odelia Grey Mysteries) (12 page)

“Look,” John began, “I do work at the
LA Times
, but not as a reporter. I’m in office services.”

“You mean the mail room?” I asked.

“I do a lot of stuff, but yeah, the mail room, gopher, stuff like that,” he admitted. “I was at the car wash when the body was discovered and took the video. A lot of people were snapping photos,” he said defensively. “I tried to show that to my bosses, hoping they might consider me for a better position, but they only laughed at me, so I took it to a friend at the news station. She said if I got more, there might be a job for me there.”

“Who at the station?” Greg asked. “The cute little blond who did the reporting on the video that night?”

“Gloria Conners,” I said. “I think that’s her name.”

John lowered his head and nodded.

“Did you really think she was going to make good on that, John?” Greg asked, his voice softening a tiny bit. “I’ll bet you’ve been dogging her for months trying to get a date or something, haven’t you?”

Again, John Swayze nodded. “I never showed that to the
Times
,” he confessed, his eyes down on the ground. “I have tried to bring them stories before but they just laughed at me, so this time I showed it to Gloria. She didn’t laugh.” He looked up at us, his eyes bright with hope. “She took me seriously.”

I tossed his wallet on the ground in front of him. “She’d take you more seriously if you carried a grown-up wallet.”

“Please,” he said. “No police. I was in a scrape just a few months ago when I tried to get a story. If I get into trouble again, I might lose my job.”

“The library card is from a town in Idaho,” I noted. “Is that where you’re from?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I moved here a couple of years ago. I just never got rid of it.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of like a piece of home.”

“How did you find out where we lived?” Greg asked.

“I paid someone at the car wash to give me your information,” John admitted. It was exactly what Clark had suspected might happen.

“What else did you find out?” Greg prodded.

“Nothing, I swear,” John said. “That’s why I came here. The police haven’t released the name of the guy in the trunk, so I figured it might be a big news story. Gloria thought so too and said if I could get more information, it could be my big break.”

“More like
her
big break,” I said with thick sarcasm. I turned to Greg. “So what should we do with him?”

“He’s not the first fool to do something stupid for a woman, and he won’t be the last,” Greg said. “Maybe we should take pity on him and let him go.”

John picked up his wallet with his good hand and struggled to his feet. We didn’t stop him, but neither did we help. “I promise I won’t bother you again.” He cast an eye toward Wainwright, still worried about an attack.

“If you do,” Greg said, seeing his fear, “that dog will be the least of your worries.”

“What about my hand?” he asked, clutching it to his chest. “I think it’s broken.”

“You have an insurance card,” I told him, “use it. Tell urgent care you accidentally slammed it in your car door.”

He put his wallet into the front pocket of his jacket. “What about my phone?”

“This we’re keeping,” I said, holding the phone with the broken front up, “as
our
insurance.”

“I need that phone,” he whined. “It has all my contacts in it.”

“If you’re a good boy,” Greg said, “when all this is over, we’ll return it. If you’re not a good boy, it will go straight to the police.”

I went over to the gate and unlatched it. While John made his way toward it and the alley, Greg held the bat and Wainwright stood alert. “Where’s your car?” I asked. “And what do you drive?”

“Down on the far end of the alley,” he said. “I drive a Prius.”

“Huh,” I said. “Do you like it? We’re thinking of getting a hybrid.” John Swayze stared at me like
I
was the geek with the superhero wallet. “Never mind,” I added quickly. “We’ll do our own homework on it.”

Once he was on the other side of the gate, John turned around. “Who
is
the dead guy in the trunk?”

“Do you really think we’d tell you that?” Greg asked.

“For my hand. You owe me,” John insisted.

I closed the gate and locked it.

“You owe me,” came a cry from the other side, followed by footsteps walking away.

fourteen

“She actually called you
Dottie?” Greg asked.

“Yep.” I settled myself into a chair across from Greg at our kitchen table. In front of me was my laptop. Over iced tea and a snack, I’d filled Greg in on everything that had happened with Emma. He had been suitably shocked, especially about my father.

“Has Elaine called you yet?” Greg asked. He’d taken Swayze’s phone and was fiddling with it. “Damn thing is locked now.”

“No,” I answered as I plugged away at the keyboard, “and now I’m really worried. Emma Whitecastle is a famous medium. What if Elaine is dead and that was her ghost being channeled through Emma?”

Greg took a swig of his tea before answering. “Do you believe that’s possible?”

“After what I saw today, I don’t know what I believe. There is no way Emma could have known about me smashing that pig. Or about Zach being young or his name having to do with a bird. So how can those things be logically explained?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea, sweetheart. I’m just sorry I missed it.”

“And what about ‘killing two birds with one stone’?” I prodded, looking for him to help me with this puzzle.

Another shrug. “If Emma’s correct, the killing of Zach and the stashing of him in your car might have accomplished two tasks, yet we still haven’t figured out a connection between you and Zach or any of his family.” He downed a bite of banana before continuing. “The two tasks could even be unrelated to each other,” he finally said. “The killer may have killed Zach for some reason totally unconnected to you, but by leaving his body in your trunk, the killer also tied up another job of some kind.”

I stopped typing. “I don’t like being the object of a twofer, Greg.”

“And I don’t like you being one either,” he said. “Maybe Elaine and her people were the ones who disposed of Zach. Maybe that was one of their jobs, but for some reason they wanted him to be found—and quickly—instead of his body being disposed of in their usual manner, and thought you might be just the way to take care of that.”

Slowly, I shook my head. “I still don’t believe Elaine would put me in jeopardy like that. We have a very odd and protective connection.”

Greg nodded and downed the last of his banana. “That you do,” he said with a full mouth.

“Although,” I added, having another thought, “Elaine does have a strange yet strong sense of right and wrong. Maybe she received a hit order to get rid of Zach, but knowing he was a missing kid from way back when, she decided to make sure his body was found so that his family could have closure.”

“That would work,” Greg agreed after taking another drink of tea. “I wish she’d call you and clear this mess up.”

I laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when you
wanted
Elaine Powers to call me.”

He chuckled. “Me neither, sweetheart. Did your research today uncover anything else of note?”

I quickly summarized some of the things I had learned from the Marigold report. “When we have time, I need to show you this search engine,” I told him. “It’s scary good. I’m running a report on John Swayze right now. I want to know as much as I can about him.”

“Sounds like Emma Whitecastle is scary good too.” He glanced out the glass slider to the patio to make sure everything was okay and we didn’t have any more unwanted visitors spying on us. The back was empty, and it had started to rain again. Greg had pushed the broken screen slider back out of the way as far as possible. “I’m game if you want to visit Zach’s sister tomorrow morning. After, we can run by Home Depot and look into replacing the patio screen door.”

“It’s a date,” I said. “We can leave early and grab breakfast somewhere.”

Greg turned his attention back to me. “What about Grace and Clark? Are you going to tell them tonight part or all of what you learned?”

“Maybe just the part about Emma’s visit,” I told Greg. “Especially since Mom was the one who initiated that. For totally different reasons, I don’t want either of them knowing we’re snooping around on other fronts.” I quickly reconsidered that. “I might tell Clark some things, especially about Swayze’s visit, but I don’t want Mom in on any of that information, especially the stuff about these crazy search engines. Can you imagine if she got her hands on Marigold?”

Greg gave an exaggerated shudder that shook his whole upper body. “I’d love to stay home with you the rest of the day,” he said as he slipped his jacket back on, “but I can still get in a few more hours at the office.” He held up Swayze’s phone. “Besides, I want to take this into the shop. I think one of the guys might be able to break the password.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I’ll be okay.”

He planted a kiss on me. “Keep that bat close, you hear? I don’t think Swayze will be back, but just in case, I’m leaving Wainwright with you. He seemed to be terrified of dogs. And if you hear from Elaine or think of anything you want me to pick up from the store on the way home, just call or text me.” He sniffed the air with appreciation. “That stew smells great already.”

He gave me another kiss before going. “Whether it was real or not, I’m happy that you had some closure with Horten today on some level.”

My mother stared down at the autographed photo of Emma Whitecastle, her face contorting with mixed emotions. “I didn’t expect her to act so quickly,” Mom said, her voice thinly edged with anger like the fine lace on one of her hankies. “Usually I write these celebrities and never hear a word back.”

My brother looked at her with knitted brows. “Do you write many famous people, Mom?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “I’ve even written the president.”

“You’ve written to President Obama?” Greg asked, taking his turn with the questions.

“Not just him,” Mom snapped, “all of them fools—every single one since Kennedy. I’m a voting citizen. It’s my right to let them know how I feel about things, isn’t it?”

My brother tilted his head upward and stared at our ceiling. “I just know Mom’s name and photo are hanging on a wall somewhere at the FBI.”

“Nah,” Greg said with a grin. “If it was, I think it might have come up during questioning by Shipman the other day.”

“It’s probably on some terrorist list,” I suggested as I got up. “Dinner is ready. Come sit down.”

As soon as Clark had arrived with Mom, I told them about Emma Whitecastle’s visit. I told them everything, including the thing with Dad. Mom had listened enraptured, as if she had a front- row seat to a séance. Clark listened too, but I could see the physical outline of his tongue probing the inside of his cheek as I talked. He was trying to keep an open mind, tough as it was. As a longtime former cop, he didn’t dismiss anything but tried to look at each tidbit of information or lead from as many angles as possible—even if it was whacked out.

“So this two birds concept,” Clark began after starting on his stew. “Maybe the killer is going to kill two people.”

“And dump them both here?” Greg asked with concern, his spoon stopped midair. “That’s a daunting thought.”

“Maybe Odelia is the second bird,” Mom said. After dropping that bomb, she looked down at her lap and adjusted her napkin as pretty as you please while we all stared at her.

Greg put down his spoon and covered my free hand with his. He looked straight into my eyes. “That thought occurred to me too. In fact, it’s scaring the crap out of me.” I squeezed his hand. I hated to see him so worried, even though I was also worried.

“I don’t know,” said Clark. “I think if the killer was going after Odelia, she’d be dead already. He’s had plenty of opportunities. Take today, for instance. Most of the day she was here alone.”

Greg snapped his eyes in Clark’s direction. “Is that supposed to be comforting?” Then he looked at me. We hadn’t told them about John Swayze; we were saving that for Clark’s ears alone. They had come through the front door and hadn’t noticed the broken patio screen yet.

Greg and I had briefly discussed whether or not John Swayze was the murderer or had come to the house to hurt me physically. We came to the conclusion that he was exactly who he said he was: a guy trying to impress a girl and looking for a better job. When the report on him came in from Marigold, I sent it to Greg at his office. It showed nothing to put us on alert otherwise. He was just a boring guy from Idaho with limited potential who’d been raised by his aunt and uncle, Mary and Edward Young.

Clark didn’t back down on his theory that I was safe for now. “Yes, Greg, it is. I think Odelia is being used in some way here, but I don’t think she’s necessarily in danger, unless it’s the danger of being charged with Zach’s death.” He stirred the stew in his bowl around, then added, “I think it’s someone who is well acquainted with Odelia’s history of solving crimes. It could be a criminal from her past throwing down a challenge to her—playing with her.”

“Like that hitwoman,” suggested Mom. “Everyone thinks it’s her.”

“But I don’t,” I said with conviction.

“Neither do I,” added Greg. “She struck me as genuinely liking Odelia. I don’t think she would do that unless she was reaching out for Odelia’s help, but she didn’t seem the type who would ask for help.”

Greg’s words did not go over the heads of Clark or my mother. Both of them stopped eating and stared at him. “Wait a minute,” Clark said. He pointed his spoon across the table in Greg’s direction. “You’ve
met
Elaine Powers?”

Oops
. Elaine had met Greg only once, but it was something neither of us had mentioned to anyone. We knew if we did, the police would be all over him like they are on me when anything about her came to the surface.

“Yes,” Greg answered truthfully after realizing his mistake. “She paid me a visit when I was in the hospital after I was shot. It was the only time I’ve ever laid eyes on her.”

“She wanted to make sure he was okay,” I added. “She even brought flowers.”

“A contract killer brought you flowers?” Mom said, her eyes glowing with excitement behind her glasses. “Wow, I’m impressed. I wish I’d been there. Contract killers…famous mediums…how come none of this happens when I’m around?”

Clark, Greg, and I exchanged looks. “Maybe, Mom,” Clark ventured, “because people are worried it would end up on that blog of yours.”

“Speaking of which, Grace,” added Greg, looking at Mom with steely narrow eyes, “you do not mention what I just said to anyone. Not on your blog. Not to your hairdresser. Not even to my parents. You got that?”

Mom looked to me for support and found none. “He’s right, Mom. You can’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

“Wait a minute,” Mom said, narrowing her eyes back at Greg. “If that Elaine woman knew you’d been shot, does that mean she was involved in that murder with the rugby player?”

Clark looked surprised. “Hell, even I hadn’t made that quick leap.”

“She had nothing to do with that,” I assured them both, slightly fibbing. “But she’d heard about Greg and was concerned, so she slipped into the hospital to make sure he was okay. That’s all it was. She was there something like thirty seconds.”

I looked at my husband and he nodded with confirmation. “Trust me,” Greg said, “Elaine Powers and Odelia are not book club buddies, and they don’t exchange recipes. There’s just this odd and haphazard connection.” He turned to look directly at Clark. “Every now and then Odelia connects with the oddest people. Isn’t that right, Clark?”

Everyone at the table except for Mom knew Greg was referring to Willie Proctor. “Yeah,” Clark agreed with some reluctance. “She does have an unusual way with some folks. Damndest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“So if it’s not her,” Mom said, getting back to business, “who would want to send Odelia a message or look for her help like this?” She looked at me. “In the past when people wanted your help, didn’t they just come to you for it?”

I chewed the stew in my mouth and nodded. “Pretty much,” I said after swallowing. “This really has everyone stumped.”

“Have the police come around anymore?” asked Clark.

I shook my head. “Nope. After they questioned me and checked out the house and carport, they went silent. I haven’t heard a thing more.”

“I don’t like the sound of that one bit,” said Mom with a shake of her head. “On TV that’s usually the quiet before the storm. Just when you think it’s all going away,
bam!
The cops come in and arrest you for murder.”

I looked at my aged mother like she’d just announced she was from Mars. My father’s spirit had said Mom would be a great comfort to me. I was now sure death had addled his brain or he was talking about some other mother. “You’re such a little ray of sunshine, Mom. Keep up the positive thinking.”

Mom and Clark left shortly after dinner. Mom was tuckered out from her trip, and Clark wanted to get her home. Before they left, Clark sidled up to me and whispered, “Don’t go to bed yet. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”