Secondhand Stiff (The Odelia Grey Mysteries)

by Jaffarian, Sue Ann

  While the auction was in progress, I located Fehring’s number on my cell phone directory. It was the number she’d given me several months earlier, and I hoped it was still good even though she’d changed police departments. I plugged in the message: At Elite. Linda Mac here. Also Tiffany. The message drafted, I did not send it.

  The auction got underway, and the bidding was lively. Linda McIntyre was the only woman in the thick of it. Kim kept the bids moving at a good speed but not with Red’s fast-talking frenzy. As bidders fell off, the speed slowed until there were only two bidders—Linda and the man from Otra Vez. The bids continued climbing in steady, reasonable increments until Linda bumped the price with a very large bid. The next bid was to Roberto Vasquez. He hesitated, looking between Linda and the items in the locker, weighing whether it was worth another raise in price. In the end, he waved a hand at her in disgust, letting Kim know Linda could have it.

  As soon as the auction was over, Linda closed the door and slapped her own padlock on it. As the crowd moved toward the next locker, she turned away and started speaking in a low tone into her earpiece. I pretended to drop something and edged closer. Before she noticed me and moved farther away, I caught her saying, “Got it.”

  “What’s that all about?” asked Greg when I returned to his side.

  “Ina said Linda comes to these things to bid for other people. Could be it’s a client on the phone. Whoever it was, she was telling them she’d won the locker.”

  I studied the closed unit door. “Honey, didn’t that seem like a very high bid, even for those tools?”

  He shrugged. “It did to me, and by making that last huge jump, Linda showed everyone she was determined to get it, no matter the cost. Maybe her client had given her an order to buy lockers with tools and car stuff.”

  We hung back, concerned that Linda might decide not to participate in the next auction or that her client, thinking the last purchase broke the budget, decided one locker was enough for today.

  “What do you think?” asked Greg. He kept an eye on the crowd as it moved away and glanced back at Linda, still hanging behind. “Should I stay with Linda while you go to the next auction?”

  “Something is telling me we should both stick with Linda. Kim and Tiffany aren’t going anywhere until the auction is done, and then they’ll have to come back this way. We can cut them from the crowd then.”

  “Did you contact Detective Fehring?” he asked.

  “Not yet. If I do, she and the cops might be here in a flash, giving us no time to talk to Linda or Tiffany. But it’s ready to send.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Following my lead, Greg rolled alongside me as we approached Linda McIntyre. With each step I braced myself, ready for the barrage of rudeness sure to come.

  “You speak to her first,” I told my husband. “Butter her up.”

  If Wainwright was our family’s star charmer, Greg was his understudy. Seamus and I battled for last place.

  seventeen

  “Hi,” Greg began, getting close to Linda as soon as she ended her call. I hung back a couple of steps. “You Linda McIntyre?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’d like to speak to you a moment if I could.”

  Linda McIntyre turned to look Greg full in the face. As she took in his rugged good looks and his wheelchair, her face softened from stone to newly poured concrete.

  “What do you want?” Her voice was scratchy, like a zipper, and not as steady as it had been during bidding. She turned and studied me from behind her sunglasses before taking them off for a better look. Her face turned to granite again.

  Greg moved closer. “I’m Greg Stevens. This is my wife, Odelia. My cousin is Ina Bruce.”

  Linda’s lip curled into a sneer. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.” She started to turn away.

  Undaunted by Linda’s rebuff, Greg pushed on. “Please. We’re not interested in getting you involved. We just want to help Ina. You may not like her, but I think you know her well enough to realize she’d never kill Tom, even though they were having problems.”

  “Jealous women do a lot of things you’d never expect them to do.”

  I moved up next to Greg. “Are you speaking about yourself?”

  “Are you saying I killed Tom?” Linda squared her shoulders. It made her sizeable boobs and buffed arms stand at attention and ready for defense. “Tom and I were together. Ina was old news. Tom was even going to buy out her half of their business so we could run it together.”

  Now there was some new information to consider. It made me wonder if the money Ina had taken from the bank was the buyout money, but I doubted it. If Tom had bought her out, Ina would not have had a reason to go to that auction. Then again, why go to the auction at all if she was going to leave town? None of that made sense.

  “But,” I said, moving as close to mad dog Linda as I dared,

  “I thought you were going into business with Mazie Moore.”

  “More old news,” Linda said. “Mazie and I decided to go our separate ways.”

  “Before or after Tom Bruce was found dead?” asked Greg.

  Without answering, Linda elbowed roughly past me. “I’m outta here.”

  “Don’t you have to pay for the locker you won?” I pointed over to the locker Linda had just padlocked.

  She stopped short and looked back at the rows of storage lockers. We couldn’t see the auction going on, but we could hear the lively bidding. After that, they would move on to the third and final locker. Linda swiveled her head to look up the row of units in the other direction, which led back to the front gate. It was clear she wanted to bolt rather than speak with us, but she’d bid a lot of money for that locker. I didn’t know the exact rules of storage auctioneering, but I doubted you could walk away without making the cash payment immediately. And if you did disappear, were you still on the hook for the money or did you get penalized? And if Linda had purchased that unit for her clients, they might be pretty upset if she did walk away.

  “They’re in the middle of an auction,” I told her, “and there’s another after that. You have a little time to talk to us before Tiffany’s available to take your cash.”

  “I don’t have to say nothing to you.”

  “What about Buck Goodwin?” I pushed. “We heard you two were an item before you took up with Tom Bruce.” It was a bluff. We had no concrete evidence she had ever been Buck’s girlfriend. It was simply a possibility.

  Linda threw back her head and laughed. “Me and old man Buck? That’s a laugh. Buck may look like a badass, but he prefers women his age or older. Less drama, he claims.”

  “Then maybe Buck killed Tom to protect Ina. We also heard she was close to Tiffany and like a daughter to him.”

  Linda pointed an index finger in my direction. She was in bad need of a manicure. “Now that’s a good possibility. Buck was very protective of Ina, and he and Tom had gotten into it good a few times about how he treated her. Why don’t you go bother him and leave me alone.”

  “We’d love to talk to Buck Goodwin,” Greg responded, “but he’s disappeared. You heard what happened to his store in Torrance, didn’t you?”

  Linda hesitated. I couldn’t tell if she was using the time to consider the question or to fabricate a story. “Of course I did.” She snapped the words like a crocodile snagging dinner. “Saw it on the news. The ass probably did it to his own store to cover his tracks on Tom’s murder.”

  Greg tried another question. “What about Red Stokes? Do you have any theories on that murder?”

  Again, hesitation. When she finally did speak, her words were noticeably softer. “Red was a nice man. His death was something that didn’t need to happen.”

  After mentioning Red, Linda became noticeably edgier. For some reason his death had hit a nerve that mentioning Buck had not. I pushed her on it. “Why do you think it happened?”

  Linda seemed lost in her thoughts, forgetting we were there. Off in the distance, the bi
dding noise had stopped. The group must be moving on to the final locker up for grabs. I decided to nudge her. In my hand my cell phone itched, just waiting for me to hit the send button and notify Fehring.

  “The news said Red was killed in a gang shooting. Why would a gang target Red? Was he involved in dirty dealings?”

  When Linda looked up at the sky, lost in her thoughts, I looked down at Greg. He was watching the cell in my hand. He looked up at me and gave an almost nonexistent nod, suggesting it was time to get the cops involved, but I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to see if we could squeeze something more out of her first.

  When Linda’s thoughts returned to the here and now, she resumed her nasty stance. “How the hell do I know what Red was involved in?” This time her tough words were coated with a false, shaky bravado that I didn’t believe for a minute. Dollars to donuts, Linda knew something about Red’s murder, and maybe a connection to Tom’s. I hit the send button on my phone and prayed Fehring saw the text ASAP.

  Mustering my own swagger, I faced Linda. Problem was, hers was real; mine was only trotted out from time to time, like fragile holiday decorations. If she called me on it, I’d crumble like spun sugar. “There’s something stinky about this whole mess. I think you know more than you’re letting on—a whole lot more.”

  Next to me, Greg placed a firm hand on my arm in warning. Tough or not, Linda was a woman. Greg could clean most men’s clocks in a tussle, and although he’d come to my assistance if needed, I knew he would be hesitant to mix it up with a female opponent.

  “You have no clue, lady.” Linda spat the words at me like expelling tobacco juice. She seemed unperturbed by Greg’s presence. Maybe she sensed he’d have a moral dilemma with her gender or maybe she thought he wouldn’t be capable. She stepped forward and lowered her head, going almost nose to nose with me.

  “Ah, but I do have a clue.” Determined to pick at her until she bled answers, I didn’t back down, even though my legs were starting to feel like jelly. “Lots of clues that I’m going to piece together.” I shook a finger in her face. “And something tells me, Linda, that I’m going to find you smack in the middle of this mess, leaving poor Ina to hang for something you did or something you know about. And, trust me, Greg and I will never allow that.”

  “You’re nuts.” Linda sneered, showing off dull teeth. “Probably going through that menopause shit. I hear it turns people crazy.” She took a step back. “Go home and knit something before something bad happens to you.”

  Determined to keep her unbalanced, I pushed again. “You know what happened to Red. I can see it in your eyes—they’re full of fear. Maybe you’re worried the same thing will happen to you. Who knows, maybe today, maybe tomorrow, someone will drive up next to you on the freeway and open fire. No place to go. Nowhere to hide. Just you, a moving vehicle, and a bullet with your name on it. Red didn’t stand a chance. And you won’t either.”

  She measured me with her eyes, weighing what I’d said, probably wondering if I was bluffing, perhaps worried I had information to back my bluster. She was definitely dirty and involved in some way; I’d bet my next mac and cheese on it. She glanced down at Greg, then back to me. For a moment, I thought she might forget about her unit and make a run for it. I hoped not. I really wanted to hand her over to Fehring and Whitman for questioning. Under their pressure she might spill information that could lead to Ina’s innocence.

  The fist came at me like a wrecking ball. I lay on the rough pavement, stunned. A few seconds that felt like minutes morphing into hours passed, and then the pain hit me. My nose gushed blood. It felt like it had been used as a chew toy by a pit bull. I never saw the punch. I never even felt it until I shook off the initial stupor. I clutched my bleeding nose with one hand and sat up. My ears rang like church bells.

  I tried to yell to Greg to stop her, but all that came out was a gurgled cry of pain. But I need not have worried. Greg was on the job. He had grabbed Linda by her arms and was trying to pin them behind her back. She thrashed around, kicking back with her legs, connecting with the wheelchair that Greg used as a block, but it was no use. Even with her buffed biceps, Greg was much stronger than Linda.

  As Linda struggled with Greg, the back of her jacket came up, exposing a gun tucked into the small of her back.

  “She has a gun,” I yelled, but I wasn’t sure the words came out clear enough to be understood. I was relieved when Greg spied the weapon and tightened his grip on her arms.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” someone yelled.

  I turned to see someone running toward us. It was a man wearing an Elite Storage shirt, and he was yelling something into his phone. I braced myself against the pain in my face and slowly got to my feet, hoping he’d see we were the attackees, not the attackers.

  About the time he reached us, Fehring and Whitman came around the corner from the front of the complex. When she saw the struggle, Fehring broke into a run.

  eighteen

  My nose did not appear to be broken, but the paramedics told me I should get it x-rayed just in case. They stopped the bleeding and offered to take me to the nearest emergency room, but I turned the offer down. “My husband will take me if I think I should go.”

  I always keep ibuprofen in my bag and now pressed it into service. I swallowed two, washing them down with bottled water offered by the paramedic. I swallowed two more two minutes later. Something told me this was going to hurt even more in a few hours. The paramedic told me I might even get a black eye. Great.

  Once again we were giving the auction-goers a memorable day, but at least a dead body wasn’t involved. While the paramedics took care of me, Fehring was questioning Greg. I didn’t like not being part of that little party, but I had no choice.

  Whitman was with Linda, who was now in handcuffs and more subdued. Fehring had ordered Greg to let her go, but he refused until someone removed Linda’s gun. As soon as Fehring saw the weapon, she took it into custody. Like Ina, Linda wasn’t licensed to carry a concealed weapon. She was calmer now but still agitated. Uniformed cops had been called. I looked over just as Whitman handed her off to a patrolman. As she was being led to a squad car for a trip to the station, her eyes caught mine and she grinned. It took me aback. Was she smirking because she’d hit me or because she wasn’t worried about being arrested? She certainly didn’t seem concerned about a police record. Then again, she probably already had one, so what’s a little thing like a weapons charge?

  Released by the paramedics, I made my way to Fehring and Greg. While the cops dispersed the crowd, Detective Whitman approached Tiffany Goodwin and Kim Pawlak.

  When I reached Greg’s side, Fehring said to me, “I see you still have a knack with people.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, carefully touching my nose. “It’s a gift.”

  “Cut the smartass remarks. You’re lucky.” She looked from me to Greg. “Both of you are lucky that McIntyre didn’t pull the gun and start shooting. People like her don’t carry guns as fashion accessories.”

  “People like her,” I parroted. “So she’s a criminal?”

  “Nothing major on record, but she’s a very tough cookie. No telling who her friends are.”

  “Someone like her has friends?” In spite of just having the snot smacked out of me, I couldn’t help myself or my mouth.

  “The way I see it,” Greg said to Fehring before she could scold me, “there are only two reasons to carry a gun—offense or defense. I have no doubt the gun Ina had in her backpack was for defense, but why would Linda McIntyre be carrying one? I’m guessing for the same reason or else she would have pulled it on us.”

  “Which means she’s afraid of something,” I added, quickly seeing where my hubs was going with this. “She didn’t have a gun the last time she was here. The way she was dressed, there was no place to hide it.”

  Fehring gave us a look that said loud and clear we weren’t telling her anything she hadn’t already thought of on her own. “Listen,” Fehring began, “I really apprec
iate you letting me know Linda McIntyre was here. We weren’t very far away at the time. But you two are too smart for your own good. Hopefully this altercation will put the fear of God in you, since I can’t seem to. I have no doubt Linda is afraid of something. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few others here today have weapons of some sort on them.”

  Greg and I looked at each other, both knowing what Fehring said about the others was probably true.

  Whitman came up to us. “Any news on Buck yet?” I asked him.

  He ignored me and spoke to Fehring as if she was the one who had asked the question. “Tiffany still claims he hasn’t contacted her. Says she’s worried sick.”

  “Do you believe her?” asked Fehring.

  Whitman ran a hand over his chin. “Yeah, I do. Seems he’s gone to ground.”

  When a wave of pain passed, I said, “Linda thinks he set the blast at his store to cover the fact he killed Tom Bruce.”

  Fehring nodded. “It’s a definite possibility.”

  She closed her little notebook and stashed it in a pocket of her trousers. As usual, she was dressed very masculine. Not for the first time, I wondered what Andrea Fehring would look like in a dress and heels. She was fairly attractive in a no-frills way, and I had to admit she was growing on me.

  “By the way,” Fehring said, “where’s Mrs. Littlejohn today?”

  “She and my mother are getting their hair done,” Greg answered.

  “Good,” Fehring said with a hint of a smile. “Just where she belongs. Last thing I need is another nosy Nellie.” She turned to me. “You should have gone with them.”

  I placed a hand gently on the side of my face and winced. “No argument there.”

  The auction crowd had dispersed quickly after the third and final auction of the day. Some stood around hoping to see more girl-on-girl Fight Club, but when Linda was hauled away in the patrol car, they also left.

  Kim Pawlak approached us with Tiffany in tow. Up close, Tiffany looked more worried and exhausted than she had before. “What am I supposed to do with that storage unit?” Kim asked the police. “Linda McIntyre hasn’t paid for it yet.”