Booby Trap (8 page)

“So Zee’s pretty pissed
off at you right now, huh?” Greg asked the question while we were heading north on the 405 Freeway. We were on our way to our meeting with Gordon Harper.

“Not me, darling hubby,
us
. Zee is pissed off at
us
.” I smiled to myself. As much as it killed me to see Zee so upset, it was rather funny to see her face when I told her that Greg and I had teamed up for this mission. “She was sure you’d lost your mind. The verdict was in about
my
mind a long time ago.”

It seems that Lisa Luke took my advice and decided the day after our meeting to get involved with Reality Check.

Me and my big mouth.

At six
am
on Monday, she’d showed up at the Back Bay to join the Reality Check walkers. And being the charming hostess that she is, Zee took Lisa under her wing and chatted with her during the entire walk. And Lisa, not realizing my past history with dead bodies, talked about our meeting and my questions about her sister and the Blond Bomber. It was all Zee needed to fuel the disbelief and outrage that brought her to my office a few hours later. The fact that I wasn’t looking for the Blond Bomber but was looking for proof that someone
wasn’t
the Blond Bomber didn’t comfort her one whit. She left an hour later, threatening to lock both me and Greg up in a mental institution and throw away the key, but at least I had extracted a promise from her not to get involved or to call Dev Frye about it.

Greg chuckled. “Did you tell her that I was along for the ride to protect you?”

“I did, and it didn’t matter. I’m sure Seth will be calling and yelling at you tomorrow about it.”

Greg started to say something but hesitated.

“What?” I turned in my seat to look at him.

He kept his eyes on the road when he answered. “He called the office today, just after lunch.”

“And?”

“He asked if we needed a lawyer. Said he’d be willing to put us on retainer.”

Gordon Harper lived in
a luxury high-rise condominium in Marina Del Rey. The view from his living room included the marina, complete with boats and slips. His condo was spacious, elegant, and had the almost too-perfect look of being professionally decorated. It also included a very impressive but small collection of artwork and sculpture. In spite of how well-behaved Wainwright is, I was glad we’d left him home to referee the cats. The Harper residence did not look pet-friendly.

Greg and I sat in Gordon’s living room while Gordon retrieved drinks for us—a soda for me, a beer for Greg, and a Scotch for himself—from a nearby wet bar. The drinks were served in crystal barware, including the beer, which was poured into a matching pilsner.

“So, you’re here about Crystal Lee?” Gordon Harper’s voice was high and squeaky, reminding me of a Kewpie doll, if a Kewpie doll could talk. He dropped himself into a leather chair the color of wet sand. I sat on the accompanying sofa with Greg positioned between us.

Gordon Harper was in his late sixties, powerfully built and a bit portly, but not uncomfortably so. He had a large, bulbous nose and slightly loose jowls. His pate was bald and his face clean-shaven. He wore an expensive white silk shirt, probably Italian. Around his thick neck hung a substantial gold chain, also probably Italian. He looked like he’d be more comfortable taking meetings in a half-moon leather booth in the back of a dark restaurant instead of a lovely condo with a water view.

To be blunt, Gordon Harper looked like a bulldog who’d done well for himself after escaping the pound. Too bad he sounded like Fifi the wonder poodle.

“Yes, we are,” I responded. “We’d like to ask you some questions about her, if you don’t mind.”

“May I ask why?” His yippy, high voice was distracting coming from such a powerful body. He focused on Greg. “All you told me on the phone was that it might prevent another death. I’m all for that, naturally, but the police haven’t been able to find the guy. What makes you two so special?”

I cleared my throat—something I usually do before telling a fib. “I’m friends with the sister of the last victim. I … we … my husband and I want to look into anything that might be common to the victims. My friend is quite anxious to know what might have led the killer to her sister.”

“Besides the obvious physical attributes?”

“Yes. It would help her a great deal to know how this happened.”

Greg chimed in. “And it might also prevent another killing if we knew how the creep picked his victims.”

Gordon nodded. “True, but I’m sure the police are looking into that as well.”

I put my soda down on the glass coffee table and got down to business. “But we’d like to know, and the police aren’t likely to share anything with us about the case.”

Gordon chuckled as if I’d just told a joke that only he understood. He studied us each in turn before speaking. “Okay, what’s the harm? What would you like to know?”

Greg and I shared a look of relief. It’s not easy prying into people’s business, and something told me Gordon Harper had a lot of things worth prying into. Supposedly, he was retired from the insurance business, but no amount of research could turn up what kind of insurance or any company. I would have liked to put a background check request out to my pal Willie about him, but I didn’t have the time or the contact. After my marriage to Greg, Willie, better known as William Proctor, on-the-run white collar criminal extraordinaire, had disappeared from my life as easily as he had appeared.

Greg threw out the first question. “Was Crystal Lee active on the Internet just before she died?”

“Absolutely.” Gordon smiled as he spoke, his fleshy lips parting in pride. “That’s how she made her money. She hawked memorabilia from her days as a stripper. She also made custom erotic costumes, mostly inspired by vintage burlesque queens such as Betty Rowland and Lois de Fee.” He laughed; it came out as a high- pitched giggle. “She did most of her advertising on the web. Most of her clients were drag queens, closet and otherwise.”

The information Greg had gathered mentioned that Crystal Lee Harper had been a specialty costume maker, but it hadn’t said anything about vintage burlesque or drag queens. “Did the police check out her clients?”

“Every last one of them that I know of. After her murder, they went through all her sales and order records.” He took a hit from his Scotch. “It was very sad. She was killed just as her business hit its stride.” His voice was filled with obvious pride.

“What happened to the business and her clients?” I watched him closely when he paused before answering.

“Seventh Veil Costuming is still thriving. I was a silent partner and decided after she was gone to keep it open.”

“A silent partner?” I glanced at Greg as he asked the question. His mind was going exactly where mine was headed. “So you provided the start-up cash? Were you two already divorced by then?”

Gordon gave Greg a closed-lip smile. “Yes, we were. We’d been married only a few years, and the prenup allowed for a cash settlement for future living expenses and financial and business advice to start a new business. Crystal Lee wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew I’d never allow her to grab my personal assets in a divorce, and she knew she’d be too old to go back to the pole if we split up.” He laughed his high-pitched squeal. “Who knew that putting gauze and sequins on fags would be so lucrative?”

I made a mental note to check out Seventh Veil tomorrow. “Mr. Harper, I noted in the information on Crystal Lee’s murder that only your name was mentioned. Did she have any family?”

He shrugged. “None that I know of. She never talked of any, and no one came forward when she died.” His small, beady eyes turned sad. He got up and disappeared into the next room. When he returned, he was holding two silver-framed photos, which he handed to Greg. I leaned forward to study them with him.

One photo was of a younger, trimmer Gordon Harper sitting and giving the camera a shit-eating grin. On either side of him stood a naked woman, naked except for beaded bikini bottoms and nipple tassels. A brunette was to his left, a blond on his right. Both women were stunning and cupping their considerable breasts, holding them up and out towards the camera on either side of Gordon’s head. The other photo showed just the blond, dressed in a skimpy harem outfit, in a very provocative pose.

I noticed my husband paying way too much attention to detail and gently took the photos from him. I handed them back to Gordon. “She was very beautiful.”

“Crystal Lee was a great broad and a lot of fun. And she was smart. Never got into the booze and drugs like most of the other girls. That brunette in the photo? That’s Joy. She died a few months after that picture was taken from a heroin overdose.” He shook his head slightly at the memory.

“But Crystal Lee was different. She knew how to use her assets to get what she wanted. According to her, she was on the streets when she was sixteen. Soon some wealthy john noticed her potential. He cleaned her up, bought her a boob job, and put her on stage. She was an instant hit. I owned a few gentlemen clubs back then and bought out her contract. Best thing I ever did. The place was always packed for her shows. She was a real artist, not just some broad wiggling her tits and ass.”

“Sounds like you’re still an admirer, Mr. Harper. Why did you two divorce?” I picked up my soda and took a few sips while I waited for his answer.

“Crystal Lee and I were great friends and wonderful in the sack together.” He winked a guy-thing wink at Greg. “She’d been my mistress for a number of years when my first wife died. Shortly after, we thought, why not get married? The marriage was a disaster from the start. The only time we weren’t fighting was between the sheets. We finally divorced to save our friendship.”

“So when Crystal Lee was murdered, you two were business partners and friends, correct?” I didn’t like the way Gordon’s eyes caressed my chest following my question and neither did Greg. His hands, resting in his lap, clenched and unclenched several times.

“That’s right. She went back to being my mistress. She got the money she needed, and I retained fucking privileges.” His eyes were still on my chest.

“So, who are you fucking now?” The question, in a tone of barely restrained anger, came from Greg and caused me to whip my head towards him in surprise.

Gordon Harper threw back his powerful head and laughed out loud, except that it came out like a series of short, asthmatic, squeaky wheezes. When he was done, he drained his Scotch glass.

“Well, sport, you might be in a chair, but your balls sure ain’t paralyzed.”

We were back home,
finally settling in for the night. It had been a long day, and the visit with Gordon Harper had been tense. So had been the ride home.

Gordon never did disclose who he was … um … boinking at present, because I had moved the questioning along to a new topic to ease the tension between the two men.

“Mr. Harper, do you know who did Crystal Lee’s breast surgery?”

“The first one? No. It was before I met her.”

“She had more than one?”

“Yes, the last one was a repair job. Something about leaking silicone. She had a new type of implant put in and asked the doc to tighten them up while he was in the neighborhood.” He grinned. “I paid for that job. Expensive as hell, but worth it. Best tits in the world. Same guy gave her an ass you could bounce a quarter off of and took care of her wrinkles. She had just turned forty at the time, but she had a body and face a twenty-year-old would die for. It was one of the reasons she lasted so long in the business.”

“Who was her doctor?” Even before I asked the question, I knew in my gut what the answer would be.

“That Eddy guy. You know, the one all the stars go to.” He paused.

Even though I wanted to, I didn’t dare glance at Greg for fear of giving something away to our very observant host.

Gordon waved one hand in an arc, indicating the room we were in. “In fact, his wife decorated this place. Classy, huh?” There was a catch in his squeaky voice. “Crystal Lee talked me into having it done.”

“I wonder if Laurie Luke’s breasts were real?” I snuggled under the covers, nudging Muffin gently out of my sleeping space. As soon as I was still, she settled back down by my legs. The other two animals were already in their spots. When we arrived home, we were pleased to find all three animals accounted for, with no trace of bloodshed or torn fur.

“You going to ask her sister?” Greg was in bed next to me with his nose in his book. He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“It’s hardly a question one can ask delicately, especially about a dead woman like Laurie. I mean, it was easy to ask Gordon about it. He’d already said Crystal Lee had had a boob job.”

Greg kept his nose in his book. “Uh-huh.”

“He was quite a boob man, wasn’t he?”

This time, Greg looked at me, one eyebrow cocked in displeasure. “Duh! Ya think?”

I giggled and snuggled close. “Thanks for being jealous, Greg. It’s much appreciated.” I kissed his cheek.

He put his book down. “I’m glad you’re amused, Odelia. But honestly, all I could think about on the way home was what might have happened if you’d been alone with the guy.”

“Nothing would have happened, Greg. He’s an old lech, that’s all. I may have a big chest, but I’m hardly his type where other things matter.”

The book got deposited on the nightstand. Greg snapped off his lamp. “I’m also convinced he has crime connections.” He pulled me close while he talked. “Insurance, my ass. He owned strip joints, a string of them by the sound of it. Probably did some money laundering through them. If Crystal Lee hadn’t been killed the way she was, I’d bet he had her killed to get full interest of Seventh Veil Costuming.”

“I thought about that, too. But she was killed just like the women before her and just like Laurie Luke.” We were silent a few minutes. “Greg, which do you think is more likely—that Crystal Lee met her killer through the Internet or that she met him through her surgery?”

The quiet continued, and for a minute I thought Greg had fallen asleep, so it surprised me when he spoke. “That Brian Eddy connection isn’t a good thing, that’s for sure.”

When I got to
the office the next day, I called Brian Eddy’s office. I thought it was about time I met the man I had in my snooping sights. His office was located on Hospital Road, across from Hoag Hospital. Just as I hit the last number on the dial pad, I realized that Laurie Luke was last seen at Hoag and that she lived very close to the hospital. It was information that needed to be reviewed and considered with care, but my thoughts were interrupted when my call was answered. When asked why I wanted to see the doctor, I was momentarily stumped. Finally, I told the receptionist I wanted to consult about a breast reduction. I was informed that the earliest Dr. Eddy could see me was in three weeks. Three weeks was not going to work; Lil would be a nervous wreck in three weeks. She was already calling and emailing me several times a day. Another woman could be killed in three weeks. I told the woman on the phone that I would be on vacation at that time, and asked if she could put me on a wait list for any cancellation that might crop up in the meantime. She said it was unlikely, but it did occasionally happen.

“Why do you want to see Dr. Eddy?”

At the sound of the voice, I jumped. My eyes shot towards my office door to confirm what my ears had heard. Sure enough, standing at my door, once again, was Zee Washington. Today she was dressed in light gray trousers and a peridot green silk sweater—a sweater Greg and I had given her on her last birthday. In her hand was the same designer bag, but today her other hand wasn’t resting on her hip. There was no evidence of the stance in her demeanor.

“Did you come by to drag me to a mental institution?”

“Tempting, but no.” She paused. “I came to apologize, sort of.”

“Sort of? Isn’t a little bit of an apology like being a little bit pregnant? You either are or you’re not?”

“Good point, normally, but in this case, I came to apologize for being so angry at you. It doesn’t mean I’m on board with what you’re doing or that I no longer think you’re insane. It’s just …” She paused again but this time looked away.

“Come in and shut the door, Zee. Let’s talk about it.”

Just as Zee stepped into my office, Mike Steele came around the bend and glanced in. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Wow, Zee, two days in a row. Make it three and I’ll have Tina Swanson hire you as the second-shift word processor.”

Suddenly, Zee shifted into the stance. It was so fast I didn’t see it happen, like a gunfighter with a legendary quick draw.
“I came to apologize to Odelia for my behavior yesterday, Mr. Steele. I promise to be quick about it so it doesn’t disrupt your day.”

“Are you going to apologize to me, as well?”

“I have no plans to.”

“Why not? You were rude to me, too.”

“You, Mr. Steele, were inappropriate in your remark to me. Therefore, there is no need to apologize to you for my reply, which was fitting under the circumstance.”

Steele started to say something but instead held his tongue and walked away. Zee shut the door and sat down opposite me.

“Sure you don’t want a job here, Zee? You don’t have to do any real work, just keep Steele in his place.”

Zee smiled. “Mike Steele is just a big kid with a smart mouth. I’ve raised two kids. I know what I’m doing.”

After a short pause, we both started to speak at the same time. We stopped, giggled, and I gave Zee the floor.

“Odelia, I’m sorry I stormed in here yesterday ready to take your head off. It’s just that these adventures of yours scare the living daylights out of me. You start off well-intentioned, but every time you manage to get injured and close to being killed. It makes me crazy. You know I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

She reached across the desk and covered one of my hands with one of hers. She may have been apologizing to me, but I was the one who felt guilty.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position, Zee. I don’t intend to. I really don’t go looking for these problems. They just seem to happen to me.”

She patted my hand and withdrew hers. “I know, honey. It’s because you have such a good heart and want to help people. People understand that about you, no matter how prickly you try to come off.” Zee smiled, and her big chocolate eyes melted into my green ones. I still felt bad for making her feel bad.

“I promise I’ll say no from now on, Zee. No matter who tries to get me involved. No more dead people. No more investigations. No more chasing murderers.”

Zee laughed her signature creamy laugh. “As much as I’d love to walk away from here with that assurance, I wouldn’t want you to make that promise to me. Seth and I spent an hour last night talking this over.”

I thought about his call to Greg. “He called Greg yesterday—offered to put us on retainer.”

“I know, he told me.” Zee laughed again. “But make no mistake, Odelia, Seth doesn’t like this any more than I do. He’s just more practical about it. He convinced me last night that we need to come to the same conclusion Greg did when he married you—that we need to accept you for who you are and learn to live with what happens to you in order to have you in our lives. You are an important person to us and our family. If we lose you, it would hurt us deeply, but to not love and accept you for the person you are would hurt us more.”

I swallowed back tears. “Thank you. I do try to be careful. Honest.”

“I know you do, honey. And I’m glad Greg is helping you out. Maybe he can keep you out of harm’s way a little better than you do yourself. At least Seth believes that.”

I thought about last night and how Greg was ready to take on Gordon Harper just for eyeballing my chest. “He is very protective of me.”

She nodded. “That’s his job, Odelia, just as it’s Wainwright’s job to protect him.” We smiled at each other for a short while, comfortable with how our long-time relationship had readjusted itself.

Zee broke the silence. “Now, tell me why you want to see Dr. Eddy?”

“I need to ask him some questions. Seems one of the murdered women was his patient.” I wanted to share with Zee about Lil and her suspicions but thought it best to keep her out of it.

“He won’t talk to you about a patient, Odelia. You know that.”

I shifted in my seat, knowing Zee wasn’t going to be comfortable with my plan. “I thought I’d get in the door by pretending I wanted some work done.” Zee looked at me, but her face was a blank. I continued. “But his earliest appointment is not for three weeks. His receptionist said she’d waitlist me in case there was a cancellation, but only because I told her I was going out of town.”

Zee took out her cell phone and flipped it open. “Do you have his office number?” I pushed the yellow sticky note it was scrawled across towards her. She started punching numbers on her phone.

“Good morning,” she said into the phone. “Could I please speak with La Tanya Ancrum?” A pause. “Tell her it’s Zenobia Washington calling.”

Another pause, a longer one. I thumped my fingers on my desk while Zee patiently waited.

“Hi, La Tanya, it’s Zee. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I have a favor to ask. A dear friend needs to see Dr. Eddy sooner than later. Is that possible?” Pause. “Three weeks? Nothing sooner? It’s very important, or I wouldn’t ask.” A long pause. “What time? Wonderful. Thanks a lot, La Tanya. Please give my best to your mother.”

Zee shut her phone and got up to leave. “Do you know where his office is?”

“Yes, over by Hoag on Hospital Road.”

She checked her watch. “We’d better get a move on, then. Your appointment is in thirty minutes. I’ll drive.”

I stared at her with an open mouth.

“La Tanya, Dr. Eddy’s office manager, grew up in our church.” She smiled at me. It was a Mona Lisa–type smile. “I keep telling you, Odelia, never underestimate the power of going to church.”

“But you said
we’d
better get moving. There is no
we
in this, Zee. You are not going with me.”

“Oh, yes, I am.”

“Hell, no, you’re not. The last time you insisted on tagging along, you ended up passed out cold in my arms.”

“Do you expect to find any dead bodies today?”

“I didn’t expect to find one then.” I pulled my tote bag out of my bottom desk drawer, shaking my head no the whole time. “But who knows, the day’s still young.”

I was still shaking my head no during the ride in the elevator and during the walk to the parking garage. When we got to the garage elevator, I punched the button for the fourth level.

“My car’s on two,” Zee announced as she punched the button for the second floor of the garage.

“I’ll call you after the appointment, Zee, I promise.”

When we got to the second floor and the door opened, Zee straddled the threshold and wouldn’t allow the door to close. We were alone. I wondered if she would have pulled this stunt if others had been in the elevator. For once, I was sorry the elevator wasn’t packed.