Booby Trap (11 page)

“She told me they’re having one right now.”

I glanced up at the message screen. Knotdead had written
You still there?

Jinxee had also returned, this time asking Perfect4u for more photos, preferably more topless ones. I looked at the photo on the desk next to me. The young woman was fully clad. Had Lil also been sending nude photos of other women to men online? My mind didn’t want to go there.

“Did she say how long it’s been going on?”

“A few months tops, if that.” Zee hesitated. “Do you know anything about Dr. Eddy’s marriage?”

“I know he’s married to Jane Sharp, the designer.” As I spoke, my recent discussion with Lil came to mind. “His mother said their relationship seemed rather distant, and that Jane thought her husband was having an affair.”

“Well, La Tanya told me she had lunch with Amber not too long ago, and that Amber told her that Dr. Eddy was going to get a divorce and marry her.”

Although I’d never seen a photo of Jane Sharp, the image of the overtly sexy Amber with her hooker shoes flashed in my brain. Amber looked more like Gordon Harper’s type than Dr. Eddy’s. But you never know.

“Does La Tanya believe her?”

“I asked her the same thing.” A pause from Zee’s end. “She was uncomfortable discussing it but finally told me she stayed late one night last week and accidentally came upon Dr. Eddy and Amber
in flagrante
.”

“Really? Right there in the office?”

“Uh-huh, but here’s the odd part. La Tanya said the door to the doctor’s office was open a crack. La Tanya peeked in and saw them, but just as she pulled away to leave, she could have sworn she saw Amber catch her eye and wink at her.”

“Was this before or after they’d had lunch?”

“A day or two after.”

“The cunning little minx. She was making sure La Tanya knew about the affair so there would be no doubt about Amber’s influence over the doctor.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. La Tanya’s worked there several years and says Amber’s been trouble since she started. She also told me this is the first time she’s ever known the doctor to behave inappropriately.”

“That she knows of.”

While I had been talking to Zee, so many messages lit up my computer screen, the tones sounded like a pinball machine on speed. Perfect4u was a popular gal.

After I said goodbye to Zee, I went back to Knotdead.
Sorry, important call
, I wrote him.
Are you still there?

Yes
, came the seemingly eager reply. He went on to tell Perfect4u how much he’d missed her and loved her—how his life was empty without her.

I twitched my nose in annoyance, knowing what I knew. He missed her so much, he was doing his own nurse on the side? Counting Perfect4u, he had three women in his life and was cheating on them all. After glancing at the photo again, I had another thought. Amber and the girl in the photo Lil had given me were very similar in appearance. Not exactly, not like Laurie and Lisa Luke, but close enough to be reasonable facsimiles. Maybe the doctor had substituted the willing Amber for the unavailable Perfect4u. It didn’t change the fact he was a dog, but it made some sense. Lil told me that she had halted her sexual playtime with Knotdead a few months ago, and Brian Eddy’s affair with Amber was a fairly recent thing. Dr. Eddy seemed to have a thing for stacked blonds, just like the Blond Bomber. But then, so did a lot of men.

I’m sure you’ve found another playmate by now
, I wrote him in an attempt to tweak his nose. While waiting for his response, I read and noted the screen names of the other men who were contacting Perfect4u, all looking for companionship and several looking for raw sex talk, apparently Perfect4u’s house specialty.

There was another message from HuckFynn saying he was still interested in meeting Perfect4u, offering to take her to dinner at one of the top restaurants in Los Angeles, first class all the way. At least he wasn’t asking for something disgusting.

Finally, the next message came from Knotdead.
Truthfully, I have been seeing someone.

A pause. I waited.

She’s a nice woman. Looks a lot like you.
Another pause while he typed more.
I was hoping I could love her like I love you, but it’s not the same. We don’t connect emotionally and spiritually like you and I do. I told her tonight it’s over.

So the ambitious Amber was yesterday’s news. But was she really? Was Knotdead just saying that to win over Perfect4u?

But she’s real
, Perfect4u wrote back via my fingers.
We’ve only talked online. Even the sex wasn’t real between us.

It was very real to me. Every time I made love to her, I pretended it was you.

I hesitated, at a loss for what to type next.

I’m leaving my wife.
His message came quickly on the heels of his last.
Jane has agreed to a divorce. We can be together now.

I can’t.
I typed the two words one letter at a time, stalling.

Yes, you can.
The typed messages came fast and furious.
At least meet me. Give us a chance to see if we can have in person what we had online. If not, we stay just friends.

Even with the dryness of the computer, I could feel Knotdead’s sincerity. After meeting him, I could see Brian Eddy seated at a laptop, pounding out his heartfelt pain to Perfect4u. As reserved as he was in his professional life, his online demeanor was passionate. His messages were different, more alive and real than the requests for sexual satisfaction from the others. It seemed to me that he might really have deep feelings for Perfect4u.

Another tone. Jinxee was asking again for more naked photos, this time of Perfect4u’s butt. I deleted it. HuckFynn wrote a message saying he was heading to bed. He asked if Perfect4u would talk dirty to him before he left.
Like you used to
, he wrote.

I wondered if I could ever look at Lil the same again.

Except for the early
morning surfers, the beach was empty during my six o’clock walk. But instead of walking, as I should have been, I was sitting on a bench with a cup of coffee, thinking about my conversations the night before with Zee and Knotdead. Wainwright, unleashed as a treat, was scampering about, running back and forth, chasing seagulls.

I wondered if I should contact Jane Sharp—maybe find out if they were really getting a divorce and why. I could always drum up some pretense of wanting my place redecorated, except that one look at my address and profession and she’d know I couldn’t afford her. And I wasn’t sure what I could learn from her. I also didn’t want to alert her needlessly if the Dr. Eddy/Blond Bomber connection wasn’t there. Still, I did want to meet her. Greg was going to try to contact Gabby’s family and see if we could set up a time to talk to them. So far, his attempts to reach anyone connected to victim number one, Elaine Epps, had yielded a goose egg.

My gut was still telling me that Brian Eddy was not the Blond Bomber. Last night, after I cooled him down about meeting Perfect4u, we chatted about his marriage and divorce. For all his success, Brian Eddy was a sad and lonely man. So lonely, this highly educated and normally rational man had fallen in love with a personality on the computer, an ideal rather than flesh and blood—fiction, not fact. He had believed everything Perfect4u had told him about herself and about her feelings for him. Even without the fact that he was her son, something she didn’t know until much later, Lil had toyed with another human being’s feelings for her own amusement, and although I knew Lil was not a mean person by nature, the activity still struck me as being downright irresponsible, even unwittingly hateful. I’m sure not everyone chatting on the Internet is as gullible as Dr. Eddy had been, but I’m sure there are a lot more like him—people who, either from loneliness or despair, or their own belief that most people told the truth, believed everything typed anonymously.

In talking to Brian, I could also see how Lil had decided to stay in contact with him after she found out Knotdead’s real identity. He was her son, and he was in pain. No longer his online lover, she had moved herself into the role of confidant and comforter, which only made Knotdead want her more.

I was roused from my thoughts by barks from Wainwright. They were joyful barks, not warnings. I looked around and saw him running for a boy on a bike a few yards away. It was Silas. I waved. Silas got off his bike and walked it over to me.

“Hi, Odelia.”

“Good morning, Silas. What in the world are you doing at the beach so early?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I come down here before school.”

“School starts this early?”

“It starts at eight, but I like the beach in the morning.”

“Me, too.”

“I know. I see you here sometimes.” While he spoke, he stroked the dog.

“And you haven’t said hello?”

“Usually, you and Wainwright are walking pretty fast.” He looked at me, then down at his sneakers. “Can I sit with you?”

I smiled at the boy and scooted over on the bench to make room. He was clean and his hair was brushed, but his school clothes were as worn as his play clothes.

“Does your grandmother know you leave the house this early?”

He shook his head. “She sleeps late. Billy’s home getting dressed and eating breakfast. He’s a slowpoke.” He consulted an oversized kid’s watch. “I’ll go home and get him, and we’ll ride our bikes to school together.”

“You take good care of your brother, don’t you?”

Silas watched the waves. “When Mom went away, she told me it was my job to look after Billy.”

Seems like everyone had a job looking after someone else. Greg and Zee looked after me. Wainwright looked after our family. I looked after Greg, my dad, and Mike Steele. Pops looked after our van, and we looked after him. I wondered who, besides his grandmother, looked after Silas. And who would look after Lisa Luke now that Laurie was gone? Everyone should have someone looking out for them.

“Where are your parents, Silas?”

“Mom went away to a hospital, because she’s sick.” He looked at me, his young eyes far older than his age. “I haven’t seen my dad since Billy was a baby.”

“How long has your mother been in the hospital?”

“Two years. She’s a druggie.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if self-trained to keep the emotion out of his words. “But every time she starts getting better, she gets sick again. We used to live with my aunt, but she got a job working nights, so we came to live here.”

“My mother left me when I was a teenager. I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen.”

He looked up at me, surprised. “Really?”

I nodded. Gently, I put an arm around his young shoulders. Silas stiffened, then relaxed.

“Why do they do that, Odelia? Don’t they want us?”

It was the question nagging at my heart for over thirty years, but I gave the boy a hopeful answer. One that people had been giving me since I was sixteen.

“It has nothing to do with us, Silas. Or with them wanting us. Sometimes people just aren’t strong enough. Then they turn to drugs, or alcohol, or just leave rather than face their responsibilities.”

“You ever want to see your mom again?”

“I’d like to, yes. And maybe one day I will.”

Silas turned to look me fully in the face. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I smiled at the boy, a youngster with whom I now shared an emotional connection.

“Are you a cop or PI or something cool like that?”

I did a double take. “No, I’m not. I work in an office. Why?”

“I overheard you and Greg talking when I brought Wainwright home, and it sounded like you were.”

A nervous laugh escaped my lips. So, it’s true. Little pitchers
do
have big ears. I wondered just how much the boy had heard.

“No, nothing like that. We were just discussing a friend.”

Draining the last of my coffee, I got off the bench and tossed the paper cup into a nearby trash can. “I need to get home and get ready for work, and you need to make sure Billy’s ready for school.”

I called Wainwright to me and was latching the leash to his collar when the cell phone tucked into the pocket of my sweatpants rang. Once I moved to Seal Beach and began walking alone with Wainwright, Greg insisted I always have my cell phone with me for emergencies. Usually, though, the only emergency calls I received in the morning were from Greg, asking me to stop by the bakery on the way back. Besides the cell phone, I also took to carrying a little cash for these morning calls.

Today’s emergency involved two cinnamon rolls.

I turned to Silas. “Walk me back, Silas? There’s a sticky bun in it for you.”

Pops was standing in front of the bakery when we got there. As soon as he saw me, he became agitated.

“The van,” the old man said, squinting and pointing at my chest.

“The van?” I was puzzled. He must mean Greg’s van. “Not today, Pops. Greg and his van are at home.”

“The van,” he said again, his bony finger shaking as he again pointed at me.

I smiled. Pops took his job of van watching very seriously. Besides Greg’s cinnamon rolls and a couple of pastries for Silas to share with Billy, I bought Pops an egg-and-cheese-filled croissant and a large cup of coffee.

As Silas, Wainwright, and I started towards home, Pops bit into the breakfast sandwich. Even with his mouth full, he kept mumbling about the van.

I had just settled
in at my desk at Woobie when my cell phone rang for the second time that morning. Retrieving it from my purse, I saw it was Dev. Ten minutes later, I was back in my car, racing for Hoag Hospital.

“I got here as fast as I could,” I whispered to Dev Frye as I entered the hospital room. In the bed, attached to tubes and monitors, was Lisa Luke. Her eyes were closed, her complexion pasty. She looked dead. Only the beeps of the monitors, one after another in a march of comfort, told me she wasn’t. Slumped in a chair next to the bed was a haggard-looking young man. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed. I recognized him from the photos in Lisa’s apartment. It was Kirk Thomas, Laurie’s fiancé.

Dev took me by the arm, and not very gently. “Let’s talk outside.”

He took me out of the room and set our course for a quiet corner outfitted with vending machines and sofas. There was a man and an old woman seated on one sofa, so he aimed us at a bank of windows away from them.

He didn’t speak for a few minutes. From the set of his jaw, I knew better than to open my mouth. Dev Frye is an imposing man, standing well over six feet tall and built like a tank. When I first met him, his full head of tight curly hair was blond mixed with gray. Now it’s mostly gray mixed with blond. His voice is gravelly and deep and belies his sweet, tender nature. We met when he was assigned to investigate the death of my friend Sophie London. In fact, I met Dev Frye and Greg Stevens at the same time, and for a while the three of us were involved in a very polite love triangle.

Dev, a widow, is currently dating a lovely schoolteacher from Irvine named Beverly. The last time I’d see him had been at our home for Greg’s birthday. It had been shortly after Laurie Luke’s murder—before I’d gotten involved. Now that I was involved, I didn’t expect to see so much of Dev’s tender nature. Being a cop, he didn’t like the fact that I got mixed up in murder investigations from time to time. Being a personal friend, he hated it as much, if not more, than Zee. He was one of the people who looked after me but wished he didn’t have to.

Arriving at the windows, he dropped his death grip on my upper arm and gazed out at nothing in particular.

“Would you please tell me,” he started, keeping his voice in low gear, “why Lisa Luke, suicide attempt and sister of a murder victim, has your name on her lips as soon as she regains consciousness?”

“
Suicide
? Is she going to be okay?”

“Took a boatload of sleeping pills, but the doc says she’ll make a complete recovery. Lucky for her, Laurie’s fiancé stopped by the apartment and still has a key.”

Tears filled my eyes. “That poor girl. I knew she was distraught over her sister’s murder, but I had no idea she’d go this far.”

“Which leads me back to my original line of questioning.” He cleared his throat. “Why does Lisa Luke even know you? Can’t one murder happen in Orange County without your involvement?”

I shifted on my feet as I weighed my words. “I went to Lisa’s home in my capacity as one of the leaders of Reality Check.” Okay, so it was a lie, but only a partial one. “Lisa is part of the morning walking group.” Okay, that was the truth, albeit stretched like a rubber band. I paused and added for effect, “I even have Laurie’s cat at my place because it was too painful for Lisa to have it around.”

Dev grabbed both of my shoulders and spun me around so that I was forced to look him in the face, or rather the chest. With one hand, he cupped my chin and lifted it upward, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“Tell me the truth. Are you looking into who murdered Laurie Luke?”

“Not exactly.”

Dev unhanded me and spun back around towards the window, where he remained quiet for a moment. It crossed my mind to take the opportunity to slink away on my rubber-soled flats, but before I could make up my mind, Dev spun back around in my direction.

“Damn it, Odelia!”

People nearby raised their heads and stared at us. The old woman and young man rose from the sofa and moved to another area.

“Dev, I promise you that I am
not
looking for the Blond Bomber.”

“Then what exactly
are
you doing? And why doesn’t Greg have better control over you?”

I bristled. “First of all, Greg married me. He doesn’t own me and control me like he does his dog.” Dev looked down at the index finger I was shaking at him. I hadn’t even realized I was doing so. After folding the digit back into my hand, I lowered my arm. “Secondly,” I continued, “while I appreciate your concern, it’s my business what I’m doing, not yours.”

“Not if it involves my case.”

“But it doesn’t really. I’m just helping out a friend, and talking to Lisa Luke was part of it. And Lisa Luke really is a member of the Reality Check walking group.”