Secondhand Stiff (The Odelia Grey Mysteries)

by Jaffarian, Sue Ann

  any with my mother and decide what was next. After finding the drugs in the Santa Ana unit and probably in the Busy Boxes unit, the police of several jurisdictions would be busy rounding up witnesses and suspects. Greg and I didn’t want to get in their way, but we also didn’t want to stand around idle.

  “That’s funny,” I said to Greg while we were on our way home. “I’ve called Mom on both our home phone and her cell, and there’s no answer.”

  “Maybe she took Wainwright for a walk and forgot to take her phone.”

  “Maybe.” But it still didn’t feel right. Since coming to visit, I seldom saw Mom without her phone. She even told me she kept it close for emergencies in case she fell or felt ill. I put a hand on Greg’s arm. “Honey, can you drive faster? I’m a little worried. She might have fallen or something.” After what happened to Seamus and how sad it made Mom, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  In response, Greg increased the van’s speed and did some fancy maneuvering in and out of traffic. For a man who couldn’t move his lower limbs, Greg definitely had a lead foot when it came to driving.

  Before Greg brought the van to a complete stop in our driveway, I jumped out and went through the back gate. Wainwright wiggled out his doggie door and made a beeline for me, his tail wagging in joy. He didn’t seem distressed at all, which was a very good sign.

  “Mom?” I called as I entered through the back door. “You here?” When I got no response, I headed for her room. It was empty. I checked the bathroom, then went to the other side of the house and checked the master suite just in case—nothing.

  Greg and Tiffany were coming into the kitchen when I returned to the main part of the house. “She’s not here, and her purse is gone,” I told Greg.

  “I’ll bet she went someplace with my mom.”

  “Of course,” I said with relief. I punched the speed dial for Renee’s cell phone. She answered on the third ring. “Is my mother with you?” I asked.

  “Why, no,” my mother-in-law answered. “I called Grace to see if she wanted to go looking at more retirement places, but she said she had plans.”

  “Plans? My mother had plans?”

  “Yes, with some gentleman she met.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight and tried not to groan. “Was his name Bill Baxter?”

  “Yes, I believe his name was Bill. Grace sounded excited.”

  Before I could say anything more, Greg held up a note. “This was left on the kitchen table. I think it says she went out with Bill.”

  “Renee, Greg just found a note from Mom. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No bother at all, Odelia. I think it’s lovely that your mother is already making friends. She’ll enjoy living here and being close to you.”

  After hanging up, I scanned the piece of paper, taking in the short message in my mother’s shaky scrawl. It did say she was out with Bill. But it also said something else—something about a lead. At least I think that’s what it said.

  “I wish Mom would learn to text,” I said to Greg. “Her handwriting is atrocious.” I showed the note to Greg and pointed to the sentence I was becoming more alarmed about by the second. “Does that say lead?”

  Greg put on his reading glasses and took the note from me. “Yeah, I think it does. Something about them checking out a hot lead.”

  I looked at the note again. “That word is hot? I thought it said bat or love.”

  Greg read the note out loud in a halting voice as he sounded out Mom’s hieroglyphics. “Gone with Bill. Got hot lead. Or it could be, Good with Bill. Got hot bed.”

  I tore the note out of my grinning husband’s hands. “Funny.” I looked at the note again. “Are you sure that word isn’t lunch instead of lead?”

  “Looks more like lead to me.”

  This time I did groan out loud. “Who knows what those two are getting themselves into?” I looked at Greg. “We have to find them somehow.”

  Tiffany seemed surprised by the conversation. “Are you talking about Bill Baxter, the locksmith?”

  “That’s the one. They met the day of the blast,” I explained. “We’d stopped by the store to talk to your dad, but he was gone.”

  Tiffany shivered. “Bill’s a creepy garden gnome. Even Ina thinks so.” She laughed. “One time Ina was at Dad’s store and Bill was standing by her car when she tried to leave. She threatened to turn him into roadkill if he didn’t leave her alone.”

  Greg grinned. “Sounds like our Ina.”

  I looked at Tiffany with raised brows. “I thought Bill and your father were friends. He told us he kept an eye out for Buck’s store when Buck wasn’t around.”

  “More like he spies on Dad and the store—on all the people at that mall. He’s always sneaking around and asking questions.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “Most people there just tolerate him. Dad more than anyone else.”

  Something still didn’t sit right. “When I spoke to Bill Baxter,” I said, looking straight at Tiffany, “he seemed to know a lot of personal things about you, including about your mom and dad and how they met.”

  Tiffany shuffled from foot to foot. “When I first came to live with my dad, Bill was very nice to me, like a grandfather. I was lonely and mad about my mother. Dad and I were going through a lot of problems. I guess I told Bill a lot of personal stuff I shouldn’t have.” She stopped fidgeting. “It didn’t take me long to catch on that he was just a nosy creep.”

  I stepped forward with concern. “Did he do or say anything to hurt you?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that. Dad told me Bill was a lonely old man and to stay away from him if he made me uncomfortable.” She looked around. “Hey, can I use your bathroom?”

  I directed her down the hall to the guest bath. When she was gone, I said to Greg, “I don’t like this at all. Bill Baxter might not be the harmless old coot I thought he was.”

  “Maybe he’s just too nosy for his own good.”

  “And maybe it was Bill who planted the bomb at Buck’s store,” I suggested. “He would know when the store was empty. No one would think twice about him poking around in the back alley. That’s where the trash containers are kept. He probably put his trash back there.”

  “And he’s a locksmith,” Greg pointed out, getting on board with my idea. “He could probably get into Buck’s store to plant a bomb with no trouble.”

  I sat down in a kitchen chair with a heavy thud. “But why would he want to get involved with Mom if he was the one with the bomb?”

  “To see how much she knows,” Greg suggested. “To see how much the police might have told the two of you?”

  “But what about the lead bit?” I put my head in my hands. “Oh my gawd, where could they have gone?”

  I didn’t wallow long. As Tiffany was coming out of the hallway, I was going down it, heading for Mom’s room and her iPad, hoping she didn’t have it secured with a password. I also hoped she’d been doing some research before she’d left with Bill. If so, it might give me a clue as to where they were headed. While I did that, Greg tried her cell phone again.

  Mom’s iPad was sitting on the nightstand. I opened the cover and turned it on. It prompted me to provide a four-numeral password, just like my iPhone did. Good gawd! It could be anything. After a little calculation, I tried my mother’s year of birth. It wasn’t that. I tried Clark’s year of birth. Nada. Not knowing how many tries I got before the thing locked or melted into toxic goo, I stopped and thought about what those four numbers could be. It was then I spied a postcard from Marie, Clark’s eldest daughter. It was tucked inside a front pocket of the cover. On the front was a photo of a lovely beach in the Bahamas. It appeared to have been mailed in early spring and was addressed to Mom at the retirement home in New Hampshire. My eye caught on the address: 1716 Chestnut Lane.

  Not having better prospects, I plugged 1-7-1-6 into the password blocks. The iPad came to life. I went immediately to the web browser and checked for recent searches, praying it didn’t clear automa
tically. It looked like Mom had looked up Otra Vez, the store owned by the Vasquez family. I hit the back button a few times and saw that she’d been searching for information on Mazie Moore. Mazie had two stores. Combined with the location for Otra Vez, it meant Mom and Bill might be heading in any of three directions.

  I brought the iPad out to show Greg. “What do you think?”

  He pulled out his phone. “What’s the phone number for Otra Vez?”

  Going back to that page, I read off the phone number for the store. Greg punched in each number as I said it. “Hi,” he said as soon as the call was answered. “My name is Greg Stevens. I think my mother-in-law is on her way to your store, and I need to reach her.”

  He listened for a moment, then added, “Her name is Grace. She’s about eighty, short gray hair, and might be with”—Greg’s voice halted as I pantomimed short and stocky—“she might be with a short elderly man.” He listened again while I stood on shaky legs. Tiffany stroked Wainwright while she waited with me for news.

  “Uh-huh,” Greg finally said. “Well, if you do see them, could you ask Grace to call me or her daughter? It’s a family emergency.” He listened again before adding, “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “No luck there?” I asked as he closed his phone.

  “They haven’t seen them.”

  “Mazie has two stores,” I said, looking at her website. “One in Pico Rivera and one in Inglewood.”

  “Pico Rivera is closer,” Greg noted. I gave him the phone number and he called it, giving the person who answered the same spiel as he’d given before. They also had not seen Mom.

  Before he hung up, I whispered, “Ask them if Mazie’s there.”

  He did, then listened to the reply. “How long has she been gone?” he asked. When he ended the call, he said to me, “The woman on the phone said Mazie went on an extended vacation out of the country. She left Tuesday, and they don’t know when she’ll be back.”

  “If it’s the truth, then Mazie left the country the day after the auction. I’m guessing she’s involved. She and Linda were arguing right before Linda took off on Monday.” My brain went into overdrive. “Could be she was already selling the goods Linda was buying, and once she saw Tom’s fate, she was worried the same might happen to her, so she left until things cooled down.”

  “Or,” Greg added, “the woman on the phone lied to me, and Mazie hasn’t left the country.”

  “Either way, Mazie isn’t around where people can find her.”

  Greg called Mazie’s Inglewood store and asked the same questions. They also hadn’t seen Mom and Bill and gave him the same story about Mazie’s whereabouts.

  Three strikes; we were out.

  I checked back as far as I could on the iPad but didn’t see anything else worth pursuing.

  “Maybe they did just go to lunch,” Greg suggested.

  twenty-four

  When I waltzed into the T&T office with Tiffany Goodwin in tow, Jill Bernelli was the picture of surprise. “I thought you were out all this week.”

  “I am, but I need a favor.”

  “From me or the boss?”

  “From you.” I indicated for Tiffany to take a seat in a chair by Jill’s desk while Jill and I retreated to my office. “That’s Tiffany Goodwin. Can I park her here with you for a few hours?”

  Jill gave me an odd look. “She’s a little old to need a babysitter, isn’t she?”

  I gave Jill a quick rundown of the situation. “If you don’t want to get involved, I’d certainly understand.”

  She gave it some thought, then answered. “Tell you what, how about you and Greg run along and do whatever you need to do. It’s Friday and quiet around here.”

  “We’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise.”

  Jill put an affectionate hand on my arm. “Go look for your mother, Odelia, and don’t worry about hurrying back. I’ll take Tiffany home with me tonight. Might do the girl good to see a stodgy lesbian couple in their natural habitat.”

  “I can’t impose on you and Sally like that.”

  “Sure you can,” Jill insisted. “No one would look for the girl at our place, and you can put your mind at ease about her. In fact, let’s just plan on her spending the night with us. We have no plans this weekend, and I’m sure we can rustle up some fresh clothes for her.”

  I wrapped my arms around Jill, giving her a warm hug. “Thanks, Jill. I owe you.”

  She hugged me back, then said, “Now get out of here before Steele sees you. He’s on a conference call right now.” I love Jill. She decent, kind, and practical, and dead right about me skedaddling before Steele got off his call.

  Unfortunately, when we opened the door to my office to leave, Steele was standing by Jill’s desk, chatting up Tiffany Goodwin. When he saw me, Steele started for his office, indicating for me to follow him.

  “Can we do this next week, Steele? Greg’s downstairs waiting for me.”

  “Now, Grey.” He stood by his doorway, waiting for me to enter the lion’s den. When I did, he followed me in and closed the door.

  “Who’s your little goth friend?” he asked as soon as we were alone.

  “Down, Steele. She’s only nineteen and she’s gay. I brought her by to meet Jill. You know, for some mentoring.”

  “Right.” He nodded in understanding, but his tone was that of an unbeliever. “And who is she really? And what happened to your face? It’s bruised.”

  “By the way, Seamus died yesterday.” I threw out the information hoping to deflect Steele’s attention away from Tiffany and my injury and sent up a prayer to animal heaven for Seamus to forgive me.

  “What?” Steele leaned back against his desk, his face crestfallen. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” Even though I was using the death of my cat to cover up my current activities, I barely got the words out without choking. “He had a stroke.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Grey.” From the tone and look on Steele’s face, I knew his condolences were genuine. “I know how much that animal meant to you. And to Greg.”

  I nodded, fighting back tears. My lower lip trembled. Steele stepped forward and gave me a hug, holding me in his embrace almost a full minute. It was the first time he’d ever done that, and I hugged him back, grateful for the sympathy. Steele was the first person outside the family I’d told about Seamus, and saying the words had opened the wound like a yanked scab loosens blood.

  When he stepped back, Steele said, “Forget the work I brought you. It can be done later. Just relax and be with Greg and your mother.”

  As soon as he said “mother,” I started weeping. Steele placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Grey. You took that raggedy old cat in and gave him a loving home. His life was better because of you.”

  I sniffed back the tears. “It’s not Seamus—not entirely. Mom’s missing.”

  “What?” Steele removed his hand and fell back again against the edge of his desk. “Grace is missing? Did she wander off and get lost? Did you call the police?”

  I gave Steele a quick rundown of what had happened since I last saw him. When I was almost done, he stopped me by holding up a hand.

  “Are you telling me that you and Grace were in front of that store in Torrance when it was turned into a war zone?” His face was tight. Lasers of intensity shot from his eyes. “And now you’re running down leads on drug traffickers?”

  “No, Steele.” I reached into my bag, grabbed a purse pack of tissues, and started dabbing my face. “We were safely down the street when the bomb went off.” From his reaction, there was no way I was going to mention that I had been poking around behind the store just yards from the bomb or that I initially thought my mother had had a heart attack from the blast. “And right now, we’re looking for my mother, not drug traffickers.”

  Before either of us could say more, my cell phone gave off Greg’s assigned tone. I dug it out of my purse and answered. “I’ll be down in a minute, honey,” I said into the phone.r />
  Steele snatched the phone from my hand. “Greg, this is Steele. I’m coming down with her. I want to help.” He looked at me, the phone still pressed against his ear while he listened. “She just told me about the cat.” Pause. “Yeah, she’s a mess.”

  I stuck out my chin in protest, but my defiance was cut short by the need to blow my nose.

  “I think we need to come up with a solid plan,” Steele said into the phone. He listened again. “Great.” With that, he shut the phone and handed it back to me.

  “We need to get going,” I said, wiping my nose and standing. “And I mean Greg and me, not you, Greg, and me.”

  “What, Grey, you’re not into ménage à trois?”

  Without waiting for a response, Steele started closing down his computer and putting away his work with quick, efficient movements. Steele never left his desk a mess when he left for the day. “Quick, now: bring me up to speed with the rest.”

  I shrugged, giving in. “Mom was researching three secondhand shops before she left the house with Bill Baxter. She could be headed to any of them, or even to none of them.” I took a deep breath to fight off fresh tears. “Or she could be having a nice lunch with a creepy old guy who looks like Bilbo Baggins. Who knows? We’ve left word at all three of the stores for her to call us if she shows up.”

  Steele picked up a legal pad and a pen from his desk. “Do you have the addresses of those places?”

  “Yes.” I dug around in my purse, then stopped. “I forgot. I left the list in the car with Greg.”

  “Maybe I could go to at least one of them and see if they show up, and you and Greg go to the others.”

  “You in Inglewood?” I almost laughed but felt too miserable.

  “You’d be surprised where I’ve been in my life, Grey.”

  I had to admit, Steele was always full of surprises. I gave him a quick update on as much as I could, including Tiffany’s part in it.

  “You were right to bring that girl to Jill.” He buzzed Jill from his desk phone and asked her to come in.

  When Jill entered Steele’s office, he said to her, “Stick to that girl like glue, Jill.”