Thugs and Kisses (15 page)

“Like the proverbial freaking lead balloon. He said he wanted me there that night. Now, mind you, it was already eight o’clock in the evening. I wasn’t going anywhere except to bed after the baby shower. I had a full day of cleaning scheduled the next day—always do every day.”

“And Mr. Steele fired you on the spot?”

“No, not then and there, but the next night he called me and said he’d found someone else to do his cleaning—someone, he said, who was more flexible.”

I shook my head. It sounded as if Steele was just as charming outside of the office as he was in the office. “Melinda, do you know who he hired to replace you?”

“It was a company I’d never heard of before—had a cute name too. He said someone at the office gave him the referral.”

“Let Mother Do It,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s it. Let Mother Do It. He told me they provided lots of extra services besides cleaning. He was really rubbing my nose in it.”

Hmm, and Mother claimed they had never done any work for Steele.

“I’m very sorry, Melinda. I’ve worked for Mr. Steele for a while now, and I feel your pain. But are you sure Let Mother Do It took over the cleaning?”

“Positive.” She paused and I could feel her get ready to blow. “You know, I cleaned once a week for that bastard for over four years, and he tossed me out just because I wouldn’t leave my daughter’s shower to sweep up some dirt. He and that Mother company can just kiss my saggy old ass.”

The call I was waiting for came just as I was pulling into my garage. When the phone rang, I checked out the display. It was a blocked call. It always was.

“Hello, little mama, nice to hear from you.”

“Hi, Willie, thanks for calling back. I need to ask you something.”

Willie Porter was once known as William Proctor, the CEO of a high-flying Internet investment company known as Investanet. The company turned out to be a scam, and Willie hit the trail with hundreds of millions of dollars, leaving behind just as many broken dreams and broken lives. Willie and I crossed paths when I was looking into the sudden death of Sterling Price, one of Woobie’s clients. Somewhere during the investigation, Willie and I became friends, and while I’m not in the habit of having fugitives on my Christmas card list, from time to time it does come in handy—like now.

Every few months, Willie calls me, and we chat about life, books, movies, whatever comes to mind. I think in some way I provide a sense of connection to his past “normal” life, which he misses. He also gave me a number to reach him if I ever had the need. The area code is for somewhere in Idaho, but I’m sure it’s just a simple land phone line connected to an answering machine in an empty room or closet. Every now and then, the number changes, and he gives me a new one. I have no idea where Willie is, and I never know when he’s going to call; knowing how sophisticated he is in staying hidden, I’m sure I’d never be able to trace him. This was only the second time I had called him, the first being on the anniversary of the day I killed someone.

“What’s on your mind, little mama?”

I gave him a quick rundown of recent events, including Donny’s murder and the fact that I didn’t believe for a second that Steele had skipped the country.

“So what do you think?” I asked when I was done.

He laughed. “For someone so intent on living the straight and narrow, you sure do get tangled up in some pretty wild messes.”

“That’s hardly the issue here, Willie.”

He laughed again. “No, but it is fun to think about.” He paused. I waited. “If your boss was following my lead and skipping the country, that passport you found wouldn’t mean a thing. Criminals don’t travel under their own names and with authentic ID. If he did mess with those documents for his own personal gain and is as methodical as you say, he would have planned it in advance, giving himself enough time to obtain a fake ID and passport.”

“Is it that easy to get a fake passport?”

“You’re so damn cute when you’re naïve.” Willie laughed again. I frowned. “Fake passports are very easy to come by but very expensive, especially those that are virtually undetectable.”

“So finding his real passport means nothing?”

“’Fraid not, little mama, but I will tell you what I do find interesting, and that’s his car. No self-respecting high-level crook would leave his car pointing in the direction he traveled. That’s the big red flag to me. If your boss is as smart as you say, he would have left the car there and taken a cab away from the airport, maybe to a boat, or train, or another waiting car. Or—” He stopped.

“Or what?”

“Or someone planted the car at the airport to make it look like he skipped town.” He paused. “Did your boss have any enemies?”

“Almost as many as you have, but for different reasons.”

He chuckled, then cleared his throat. “Little mama, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but it could be your boss stepped on the wrong toes—lawyers do it all the time, especially upstanding ones.”

I nearly fainted as I pictured what Willie was trying to tell me. “You mean he might be dead?”

“It’s a distinct possibility. A carjacker would have taken his fancy car and left him by the side of the road. But someone with a score to settle might make sure he’s never found.”

A single involuntary sob escaped my lips.

“You okay, little mama?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a bad cold.”

There was a moment of silence before Willie continued. “Are the police involved yet?”

“Yes, but not really. There has been a missing person report filed, but when his car was found, I think most people just assumed he left California. They say there’s been no evidence of foul play.”

“And that stuff with the legal documents just backs it all up?”

“Exactly.” I remembered the statements in my bag. “I have Steele’s checking account number and his credit card numbers. I was going to ask my friend Detective Frye if the police could run them and see if they’ve been used lately and where. Wouldn’t that show something? I mean, Steele did withdraw three hundred dollars from his checking account just before he left town, but that wouldn’t get him very far unless he was also using his credit cards or bank card.”

“It’s something to look at, but again, if he’s on the run, he would have gotten new cards with his new identity. If his cards are being used, chances are it’s by someone who stole them, but that might net you some answers.”

I looked at my watch. Sally was due here in just under thirty minutes. “Willie, I have to run. Someone’s meeting me in a few minutes about Donny Oliver. You’ve been a big help, thanks.”

“One last thing, little mama. Let me run those cards for you. I have resources and contacts the police can only dream about. If these cards are being used, I’ll find out faster and maybe even find the person who is using them.”

“Are you sure?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Another thought crossed my mind. “While you’re at it, Willie, could you also look into two companies for me—Silhouette Candies and Sweet Kiss Confections? These are the two companies involved in the lawsuit. To be honest, I can’t figure out for the life of me what motive Steele would have to tank his own client and turn on the firm.”

“Money, what else?”

“Maybe in your case, but it doesn’t make sense for Steele—not unless he was in some sort of a jam, but even then it’s hard to imagine.”

“Give me this guy’s full name; I’ll look into him as well. And what’s the name of that cleaning company that lied to you? Might as well throw them in for good measure.”

“Let Mother Do It? Don’t waste your time. It’s just a cleaning and errand company run by an old lady. She probably had a senior moment and forgot they’d done work for Steele.”

“You never know. What kind of a snoop would you be if you didn’t look at every lead?”

He had a good point. “I’ll take care of that, then,” I told him. “I can easily check it out online to see if it’s registered with the Secretary of State or filed as a fictitious business name. It would have to be one or the other to be legally doing business in the state under a name like that.”

I gave Willie what details I could off the top of my head about the two companies in the lawsuit, along with Steele’s full name, birth date, and the numbers of his credit cards and checking account from the information I’d taken from his home. When I was done, I thanked Willie from the bottom of my heart.

He laughed. “Now run along, little mama, and stick your nose into that murder. Leave the missing person stuff to me for now.”

I wasn’t quite ready when my doorbell rang just before two o’clock. After speaking with Willie, I gave Zee a quick call to touch base. She’d been very worried about me since the break up with Greg, but I’d been so busy with the Steele matter we hadn’t had time to get together. I promised to call her tomorrow and to take care of my cold, and assured her I was doing fine under the circumstances. I never mentioned Sally or the upcoming visit to Donny’s widow, and I certainly never mentioned my call to Willie Porter.

“Be right there,” I called in the direction of the door as I slipped into a new nubby-textured cream and black knit cardigan sweater. I had worn jeans to the office, but once home I had done a quick change into a pair of nice black trousers and a black knit short-sleeved jersey. My sneakers were replaced by black suede flats and long, black trouser socks. I felt like crap, but I didn’t look half-bad.

After grabbing my tote bag, I opened the door, ready to climb into Sally’s Jeep and hit the road. Instead, I almost hit the floor.

The person at my door wasn’t Sally. In fact, it wasn’t even a person. On the other side of the door sat Wainwright in all his golden furry glory. Hanging from his mouth by a black strap was a plastic pumpkin bucket, the kind kids would carry trick-or-treating three days from now.

“Trick or treat,” a voice said from out of my range of vision. “If you’ve got the treats,” it continued, “I can do some tricks.” Then, on cue, Wainwright sat up and whimpered.

I was close to whimpering myself.

When the big dog sat back down, I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a squeeze. I had missed his soft fur and doggy smell. Still hugging the dog, I turned my head to see Greg sitting just to the side of the door. I wanted to squeeze and smell him, too, but held back.

“So, do you do tricks for treats, too?” I asked Greg.

“Depends on the treats.”

I smiled, remembering both our tricks and treats in happier times.

He smiled and studied me. “You look very nice. You on your way out?”

“Yes, I am. A girlfriend is picking me up any minute. I thought that’s who was at the door.”

An awkward silence settled over us. I didn’t know if I should invite him in, at least just until Sally arrived, or if I should rush him off before she arrived. My decision was made for me when Seamus, standing behind me a few feet inside the door, meowed a greeting. Without further ado, Wainwright dropped his bucket, pushed past me, and trotted inside, where he immediately began slobbering over the cat.

I turned to Greg. “Would you like to come in, too? At least just until Sally arrives.”

He answered by rolling toward the door. I stepped aside so he could maneuver the doorway better. Once he was inside, I closed the door, but he didn’t move deeper into the house. Instead, he reached up, tugged on the front of my sweater, and gently pulled my face down toward his own. Once in range, he kissed my cheek, letting his lips linger against my face. I had to struggle not to cry.

“Be careful,” I warned him. “I have a cold.”

“A cold I gave you.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Seems only fair for you to give it back.” With that, he planted a hungry kiss directly on my mouth. When it was done, we rested forehead to forehead. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” he told me in a whisper.

Part of me wanted to crawl into his lap and never leave, both of us wheelchair bound for the rest of our lives. Instead, I stood straight and backed away a few steps.

“I’ve missed you, too, Greg. I’ve missed you a lot.”

I hesitated, wondering if I should say what was on my mind or leave it for when we had more time. But me being me, I plowed ahead, caution be damned. “Is our break over, Greg?”

When he didn’t answer, I continued. “Was today the big day, the day scheduled for you to forgive me? Did I neglect to write it on my calendar?”

He hung his head in a gesture I knew well. It was a gesture of frustration—not with himself, but with other people. This time, I’m sure he was frustrated with me.

“Don’t be like that, Odelia,” he said, finally raising his head to look at me. “I miss you, and I wanted to see you. I had hoped you would want to see me.”

“I do, Greg, more than anything. But under the circumstances, I would have appreciated a call first to discuss how you feel instead of a surprise visit. Did you expect me to be overwhelmed with gratitude for this sudden change of heart?”

“Odelia, please.”

“No, Greg, you
please
.” I struggled to control my emotions while I spoke. “Please understand that I have been through hell for the past week, and you showing up like this throws me off what little emotional balance I have left. And since you haven’t bothered to call, you have no idea what else is going on around here. This entire week has been an absolute nightmare, and it isn’t all about
you
.”

That got his attention.

“What else is going on, Odelia? Is it Horten?”

“My father is fine, Greg. Thank you for your concern.” I glanced at my watch and wondered about Sally. I really wasn’t sure I wanted to get into it with Greg right now, but I decided to forge ahead—no time like the present. “Mike Steele is missing.”

For a moment, Greg’s mouth hung open like an airplane hangar.

“Steele is missing,” I continued. “His car was found abandoned at LAX. Important documents have been tampered with, and people think he did it and skipped the country.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think something bad has happened to him, and he’s being set up to look like he tampered with the documents.”

“Something bad?”

“Yes, Greg, something bad—as in maybe he’s even dead.”

I tried to stop myself from cascading into the depths of snotty bitchhood, I really did, but in the end I failed. “Remember, I’m a corpse magnet.”

We stared at each other—me, indignant and sniffling, and Greg, in shock. Just then, my doorbell rang, making us both jump a little. It was Sally. I introduced them, then told Sally I’d be out in a minute. After she returned to her Jeep, I studied Greg before speaking. He studied me in return; both of us, I’m sure, sizing up the terrain, wondering if we had the stuff to continue traveling our previous path. I was the one who broke the short silence.

“Sally is one of my high-school friends. We are on our way to pay our respects to Donny Oliver’s wife.” Again, I wondered if I should leave it at that, knowing that Greg would find visiting a grieving widow acceptable. But again, I couldn’t stop my big fat mouth. “Both Sally and I, especially Sally, are on the suspect list for the murder, so we’re also hoping to uncover some information to help us prove we had nothing to do with it.”

Greg started to say something, but I stopped him.

“Yes, Greg, I’m back in the murder business, this time doing double duty between Donny and Steele, and I’ll make no apologies for it.”

I gathered up my bag and opened the door. As I started over the threshold, I turned half around. “I really am glad to see you, Greg. I love you, and I hope when we have more time we can hammer all this out. But I can’t do that right this minute. Now please excuse me, and make sure you lock up when you leave.”

“Everything okay back there?” Sally asked once we were on the freeway.

“Who knows?”

And that was the truth—who knew? Greg had made an overture of making up, and I had put him on hold. I felt great and devastated at the same time. I also resented that he seemed to think things could be patched up so easily, especially when nothing had changed. He was still going to hate the fact that from time to time I got sucked into a vortex of murder and mayhem, much as I tried to avoid it, and I was still going to stick my nose wherever people needed help.

I mean, not that I really saw myself as some sort of middle-aged avenger for the dead, wrongfully accused, and missing, but given the opportunity, would Wonder Woman turn her red, white, and blue bustier-clad back on Sally and Steele?