Booby Trap (10 page)

“You mean the one in the snug uniform and hooker shoes?”

I smiled. Zee seldom missed anything.

“Yes. Did you notice any of the other women in the office dressed like that?” Without waiting for her response, I continued. “Amber— that was her name—was a definite blond bombshell. Don’t you think if Brian Eddy was the Blond Bomber, he’d find easier pickings at work instead of combing Southern California for victims?”

“Not really.” Zee paused to think it over. “Killing someone so close to home would raise major suspicions. The police would definitely question all the men who knew her, including her boss.” She paused. “Do you know if any of the other victims were patients of his besides Crystal Lee?”

“Not yet, but I intend to find out, though I doubt the young girl, Gabby, was.”

“But now that you mention it,” Zee said once she’d finished eating, “none of the other women in that office that I saw were dressed like that one assistant. I’ll ask La Tanya about Amber.”

“No, Zee. I don’t want you involved.”

“What’s the harm in asking a simple question? I’m just curious. All the women in that office were drop-dead gorgeous, but only she was dressed in a provocative manner.”

I thought about that, happy that Zee had made the same observations I had but not happy with her decision to get involved. If she kept this up, I might be the one putting someone under lock and key for her own good.

“What about La Tanya? Is she gorgeous?”

Zee grinned. “Think Whitney Houston.”

“Before or after Bobby Brown?”

“Before.”

I raised my eyebrows in a silent, appreciative
wow
.

The chat room was
hopping with meaningless banter. I looked at the notes to the right-hand side of my keyboard and confirmed that I was in the right place. On the paper were the names of three Internet chat rooms frequented by Perfect4u. The one I was currently in was the one in which she and Knotdead had met and continued to use for their online rendezvous before switching to private instant messages. Lil had told me that Knotdead was the screen name used by Brian Eddy.

Lil had agreed to not go online as Perfect4u anymore and to let me use the screen name to try and ferret out information about her son. She had given me a list with her password and the three chat rooms in which she had played as a twenty-something hottie.

I could tell she wasn’t happy that her fantasy life had come to a screeching halt, but in the end Lil realized that her double life wasn’t such a good idea. But even though she understood the serious situation her activities had created, I wondered if she would succumb to the call of the tech-age fountain of youth and create a new alter ego to continue cruising the web for excitement. Who knows, thinking the odds were in her favor that something this bizarre would never happen again—besides, she only had one son—maybe she was already playing cyber footsie somewhere under another name.

In an attempt to not throw stones at my friend, I took a moment to honestly examine myself. Internet chat didn’t particularly attract me, but what if I could convince someone I was a size four and twenty-two years old? Would I enjoy it? Would I be drawn into the double life out of unhappiness or frustration with the inevitable march of time? Hard to say.

Cupping a mug of hot tea in my hands, I sat in our home office and watched the meaningless chat scroll by, line by line, in an upward-moving waterfall of words. I took note of who was present. Or, more importantly, who was not present. Greg had taken the day shift both Monday and Tuesday, signing on as Perfect4u during the day and keeping the chat room open while he worked. He said Knotdead showed up only once, and that was this morning around ten o’clock. Unfortunately, Greg was away from the computer at the time and didn’t see the message, which contained several hellos and several pleas of
talk to me
and professions of love.

Greg was more amused, however, by the numerous other messages sent to Perfect4u, all from men and all obviously acquainted with her in a flirtatious and sexual way, though not in person. He’d told me over dinner tonight that some of the messages had been quite steamy. In fact, at one point, he announced that he had spent a little time conversing as Perfect4u, and the experience had given him some ideas. When my husband winked at me across the meatloaf, I didn’t know whether to be thrilled or frightened. Maybe I should be both.

Tonight it was my turn to stand guard as Perfect4u in search of contact with Knotdead. Greg had returned to Ocean Breeze Graphics to finish up a large rush project for an important customer. He was also breaking in a new assistant. Boomer, his faithful and talented right-hand man for many years, had recently gotten married and moved to Colorado with his lovely bride.

Greg had mentored Boomer, a pierced and alternative-looking teen with a minor juvenile record and bad home life, when no one else would give him a chance. But Greg had seen something special under the tattoos and Day-Glo hair. Boomer had turned out to be a talented artist and computer genius who had just needed someone to believe in him.

About fifteen years ago, Greg inherited money from his grandfather. The funds allowed him to buy and remodel the home we live in and to start Ocean Breeze Graphics. Once his business was established, Greg had used some of the money to start a college scholarship program for his employees. Starting out as Greg’s delivery boy, Boomer had put himself through college with Greg’s assistance. Last year, he approached Greg with a business plan to expand Ocean Breeze outside of California, with him as Greg’s partner. Greg was so proud of Boomer and impressed with the plan, it didn’t take him long to say yes, especially since one of his largest clients was located in Colorado. Next month, we are all meeting in Denver to launch Mountain Breeze Graphics, with future plans for a Desert Breeze Graphics in Phoenix in another year or so. It was exciting times for all of us, and both Greg and I were so proud of Boomer.

But with Boomer gone from the mother ship, Greg had to spend more time at the shop. His new assistant was another long shot who showed promise under the right tutelage. Chris Fowler was a scrawny high-school dropout referred to Greg for part-time work a few years ago by a client. When hired, Greg insisted that part of working for him would include Chris obtaining his GED, which he did. Last September, with help from Ocean Breeze, he started community college. Though not as gifted as Boomer in the arts department, Chris was proving to be a steady hand with the mechanics of the business and a favorite with both the staff and customers, and, like Boomer, there wasn’t a machine in the shop he couldn’t fix or maintain.

Boredom with the chat room set in after only ten minutes. Picking up the novel I was currently reading, I buried my nose in it, only glancing from time to time at the ongoing chat. Seamus was curled on the small loveseat in the corner of the room, and Muffin was a ball of gray fur between the keyboard and the screen. Wainwright was with Greg.

After an hour, there was still no sign of Brian Eddy. I stood up and stretched and went to the kitchen to refresh my teacup. Muffin followed me out to the kitchen. She mewed softly and rubbed my ankles. I tossed her a couple of kitty treats while the tea kettle heated. She was so cute that a part of me hoped Lisa Luke would not want her back.

It was just after nine. Greg had said not to expect him home much before eleven. This chat-room surveillance was dull business, but at least I was getting my reading done, a pastime I loved.

When I returned to the computer a few minutes later, there was still no sign of Knotdead, but there were instant messages from two other folks. One said
Hi, sexy! Remember me?
The other said
Suck my dick
. I deleted both.

I was only interested in whatever Knotdead had to say. But as soon as the messages disappeared, I had a change of heart. If Brian Eddy was not the Blond Bomber, maybe one of these other yahoos, such as the “suck my dick” guy, was the killer instead.

Hmmm.
Now, wait a minute
, I told myself.
You’re only supposed to be proving that Brian Eddy is not the killer.
At no time are you to go nosing about looking for the real Blond Bomber. But,
said my nosy side,
if you can prove that someone else is the killer, that’s the same as proving Dr. Eddy is not the killer. Well, isn’t it?

Still, I really didn’t have the appetite to converse with people who wanted me to do intimate things with their virtual body parts. Did Lil play these games? Would she have had a snappy comeback to that message? Would she have put him in his place or encouraged more graphic sex talk? Or would Perfect4u have deleted the vulgar message as well? I wanted to believe that even online under an assumed identity, Lil practiced at least some of the same good taste she did in real life.

The sound of a slight ding roused me from my thoughts about Lil’s behavior. It was the announcement that a new instant message had been received. Looking up at the small text box, I saw that it was one of the previous callers, someone named HuckFynn. Cute name. Ol’ Huck was the one who’d asked Perfect4u if she’d remembered him.

Hope I’m not bothering you
, the message said.

I paused, wondering if I should respond. Muffin hopped back up on the desk. I scratched the animal behind her ears and under her heavy collar. She purred in kitty ecstasy.

“What should I do, girl?” I pointed to the screen and said to the cat, “Anyone you remember your mom talking to?”

Muffin yawned and curled up for another snooze. Seamus was still comatose on the loveseat. I was definitely on my own.

I poised my fingers over the keyboard, took a deep breath, and started typing.
No, no bother at all.

Several seconds lapsed before I received a reply:
Good.
Followed by a repeat of
Do you remember me?

HuckFynn must have been a former online playmate. Or was he someone Lil had simply conversed with? And if so, how long ago? If he had to ask if she remembered him, it couldn’t have been too recent. With some care, I pecked out a response.
I’m sorry, but I meet so many people online.

I just bet you do.

Conversing online is tricky business. The five words in HuckFynn’s response could be taken so many ways without knowing the emotion behind them. Was he simply being flirtatious, or was he peeved because Perfect4u didn’t recognize him? I wondered if Lil would have instantly known who he was. I wrote down his screen name to remember to ask her.

Again, I put my fingers to work.
Sorry. The name’s familiar, but I just can’t remember any details.

A long pause followed my message. Just when I thought he’d gone off to sulk, he sent me another message.

Understandable. It’s been a few months since we’ve chatted and, like you said, you meet a lot of people online.

I wondered why Perfect4u and HuckFynn had stopped chatting. Had Lil banished him, or had he lost interest?

Well
, I typed, my message showing up in the small text box,
you’re here now
. I paused, grimaced as I added a stupid smiley face, and then hit the send key. On the fly, I decided to take a chance and typed,
Where have you been for the past few months?
I hope I didn’t say anything to upset you.

He responded,
Couldn’t see the point after you refused to meet me.
There was a slight pause.
I’m looking for more than just a tease.

His words made me wonder how long they had been interacting online before HuckFynn moved on.

Another entry showed up.
Are you still just into online chat or are you ready for a real-time date?

I glanced over at the photo Lil had given me for reference. It was a picture of a very pretty, wholesome-looking, twenty-something blond—the photo she’d e-mailed to men when they requested a picture. Who knows where she’d gotten it—probably downloaded it from some poor unsuspecting girl’s website. It made me wonder what HuckFynn would say or do if Lil had said yes to the meeting and instead of blondie the dreamgirl, an elderly woman showed up for the date. Or even a forty-something BBW. I was almost tempted to set something up, just to see what would happen.

I’m sorry,
I typed to HuckFynn,
but my situation has not changed.
I didn’t know what excuse Lil had given to avoid meeting men, but I thought that might cover most anything and everything.

Before I had finished typing and sending my last message to HuckFynn, two new, separate message windows opened. One was from Jinxee, the same creep as before, asking me for another blow job, but this time he’d at least added the word
please
. I added his screen name to my list.

Did some women actually find this endearing? Supposing for a minute that Jinxee was the Blond Bomber, I found it hard to believe that the dead women would have found this line of sweet talk appealing enough to want to set up a meeting. I could see Gabby finding it funny, but grown women? Professional women, such as Laurie Luke? But then, there was no accounting for what turned people on. Maybe women responded to this brand of vulgarity when looking for adventure. But even when I was single, it would have done nothing to cause the pitter-patter of my little heart.

When I read the second of the new messages, my heart didn’t pitter-patter, but it did stop short for a beat or two. The second message was a simple hello from Knotdead.

As I was about to type a response, the cordless phone next to me rang, and I saw that the caller was Zee. Quickly, I typed a message to Knotdead:
Hang on, I’m on the phone.

I need to talk to you
was his reply.

“According to La Tanya,” Zee began, cutting to the chase, “Amber has the hots for Dr. Eddy, and the two are having an affair.”

“Did La Tanya actually say they were having an affair or that everyone thought they were having one?” While I spoke, I kept my eye on the message screen from Knotdead.