9 Hell on Wheels

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  We thanked her again and parted.

  Once in the car, I pulled my smartphone out of my tote bag, which I’d stashed behind my seat. Opening the calendar app, I started looking at dates for the past two weeks. From the passenger’s side, Zee craned her neck to look at the screen with me. “Miranda was not meeting Rocky that night,” I told her, still looking at my calendar. “Two Wednesdays ago, Rocky was with Greg and some of their buddies at a guys-only birthday bash for another friend.” I showed her the entry on the calendar: Greg @ Matt’s bday party. I remember Greg telling me Rocky was there because he said Rocky got stinking drunk and had to be taken home.

  “So she and that Tanaka guy were having an affair.” Zee settled in her seat and shook her head.

  “Sure sounds like it.” Something was nagging at me. I started arranging the information Seema had just given us, and it wasn’t adding up, like my checkbook most months. If not for Greg, it would never balance. Forget my checkbook—we’re talking about my life.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Zee. “I know that look. Something isn’t sitting well with you.”

  “You’re right, something is off.” I turned in my seat to look at Zee. “Seema said Miranda had been sporting some new stuff—nice stuff. I didn’t know Tanaka except for that one time we met, but he didn’t strike me as the type who would give a woman expensive gifts. He has a record of abusing women, not indulging them.”

  “Seema said Rocky bought Miranda that purse.”

  “Maybe, but if Seth gave you such a lovely purse, wouldn’t you use it all the time? Especially at first?”

  “He does, and I do.” As an example, Zee held up her bag. It was a Coach satchel given to her by Seth on her last birthday.

  “At the tournament, Miranda wasn’t carrying a Kate Spade bag of any kind. She was carrying a cheap black microfiber bag. I remember it because I picked it up and handed it to her when she got down off the bleachers to go to the ladies’ room during one of the games.” I paused and squinted, try to squeeze the information into place. “No, if she owned a peacock-blue Kate Spade bag, it was not from Rocky. It would be easy to slip a small piece of jewelry or some earrings past someone, but not a large leather bag.”

  “Are you thinking she might have been seeing someone besides that Peter guy?”

  “Maybe, or I’m wrong and Tanaka was the type to give nice gifts, maybe as apologies after smacking them around. I don’t know what he did for work, but dollars to donuts Miranda was hiding that bag from Rocky.”

  “Didn’t you say he was in the drug business in Canada? Maybe he’s still pushing drugs. That would bring in a lot of cash.”

  “True.”

  My cell phone was still in my hand, and it startled me when it buzzed, announcing a text message. It was from Barbara.

  nothing on eudora fox anywhere—except a death certificate.

  “Hang on, Zee. I have to deal with this.”

  “Work?” she asked.

  “Sort of.” I called Barbara. “Nothing?” I asked as soon as she answered.

  “Nothing except that someone by the same name died last year in Wyoming. She was about the right age though, and nothing on Little Foxes either. Do you have any other clues?”

  “Not at the moment. Thanks. I’ll be back in touch.” I ended the call. “Crap,” I said out loud.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Zee, whom I had almost forgotten about while my mind swirled with information, or lack thereof, about Eudora Fox.

  “It looks like I’m driving to Beverly Hills tomorrow. I hate going into LA during the week.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Zee offered. “I can keep you company on the drive and go shopping while you have your meeting.”

  “It’s not a meeting exactly. More like surveillance. Something for one of the LA partners.” I plugged my phone into the car’s system and buckled my seat belt. “Looks like I’m lunching tomorrow at Bouchon.”

  Zee squealed with delight. “I love that place and haven’t been in a long time.”

  An idea picked at my brain. Why not? I asked myself. Two ladies lunching would not seem out of order to two other ladies who were lunching, while one woman dining alone at such a nice place might receive a few glances. And it was just surveillance. It wasn’t like I was going to tackle a criminal to the floor. If the fake Eudora was up to something, it was probably a con, not anything that would cause bullets to fly at the famous French eatery. But having Zee along would also mean it would take more time. I had hoped to check out Peter Tanaka’s family tomorrow. Included in Barbara’s report was a current address for Tanaka’s widowed mother. It was the same as the address listed for Peter. Altadena was nowhere near Beverly Hills, nor was it anywhere near where I lived. I had figured on driving a lot tomorrow, just not to Beverly Hills. It wasn’t Zee who was putting a wrench in my plans, it was the need to check out the situation with Fanny Tobin and her gal pal that was mucking up my schedule.

  “Pick you up at nine thirty?” I asked Zee. “That way we’ll miss most of rush hour and can get in a little shopping before.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Zee said with delight. “But how about I pick you up and around nine instead of nine thirty.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I told her. I hate driving in LA traffic, so her offer sounded like heaven to me.

  “Have you made the reservation?”

  “Reservation?” I asked.

  “You should have reservations for Bouchon, silly.”

  “No.” Before I could say anything more, Zee whipped out her own smartphone and located the restaurant’s number on the Internet.

  “What time?” she asked.

  Simon hadn’t told me what time his mother and Eudora Fox were having lunch. “I’m not sure,” I told Zee, “so make it for twelve thirty. That way I’ll see them either halfway through their lunch or as they come in, unless they are lunching later in the day.”

  “How old are these women?” she asked.

  “Seventyish, eightyish.”

  “Then they will be having lunch earlier.” She checked her phone again. “They open for lunch at eleven thirty. I think we should shoot for noon instead of twelve thirty.”

  I glanced over and nodded in agreement. When it came to social calendars and procedures, Zee was the guru. Quick as a bunny drooling over newly sprouted carrots, she placed the call and made a reservation for lunch the next day.

  On the way back to Zee’s, my cell phone rang. I ignored it.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” asked Zee.

  “No. It’s just Steele.”

  Zee cocked her head to listen to the ring. A second later, she turned to me, open-mouthed. “You have the theme from Jaws as Michael Steele’s ringtone?” The question came out in a half laugh, half scold. “Does he know that?”

  “Of course not. Why would he call me if he’s within earshot?”

  The phone stopped ringing. A few seconds later it started up again.

  “Odelia,” Zee admonished. “I know he can be annoying, but he might need something.”

  What he needs is a good swift kick in someplace not already battered.

  With a sigh, I hit the button on my steering wheel that activated the phone. “Hey, Steele.”

  “What did you say to Tobin?” he barked, slurring half the words.

  Before he could go further, I cut him off at the path. “Steele, I’m in the car, and Zee is with me. Be polite and say hello.”

  The knowledge that I wasn’t alone put a stop to the rant I was sure was coming.

  “Hi, Zee,” Steele said. He spoke slowly in an effort to speak clearly. “Thank you so much for the lovely flowers. Thank Seth for me, too.”

  “You’re welcome, Mike,” answered Zee. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  “Normal for you, maybe,” I quipped. “Normal like other people might take a lot longer and require a couple of surgeries.”

  Zee shot me a glare bef
itting an old maid schoolteacher and looked ready to rap my knuckles.

  “If there’s anything I can do for you,” Zee said toward the phone, “just give me a call. I can be in Laguna Beach in a jiffy.”

  “Thanks, Zee,” he answered. “I appreciate that. Other people seem to think this is a joke.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Steele, I’ll call you back about that work thing after I drop Zee off at home.” I cut off the call.

  “Really, Odelia,” Zee said. “Mike isn’t just your boss but your friend. You really should be nicer to him, especially since he was almost killed in a car accident.”

  Car accident, my ass. That man was going to owe me after this. In fact, I intended to jump the payback line in front of Dev.

  “If I was nice to Steele,” I told Zee, keeping my eyes on the road, “he’d freak out, sure that he was dying and only I knew about it.”

  Fourteen

  I had just dropped Zee off at her home when my phone rang. It was Greg.

  “Hi, honey,” I said with a smile. “I was just about to call you. I’m heading home now. What would you like for dinner? Your choice is chicken or chicken.”

  “That’s what I’m calling you about,” he replied. “I called a few of Rocky’s teammates, including their coach. I told them about Rocky, and they’re pretty torn up about it. They are spreading the word among the team.”

  “I can imagine. Were you able to broach the subject of Miranda with any of them or wasn’t it a good time?”

  “I did manage to bring it up. Mostly I asked if they knew of anything wrong between Miranda and Rocky.”

  “And?”

  “Kevin and Jeremy didn’t seem to know of anything out of whack, but they also said that they only saw them at practices and games.”

  “Well, I found out that Miranda was probably having an affair with someone. I just spoke to one of her coworkers, and Rocky may or may not have had a clue. It depends on how observant he was or how much denial he was swallowing.”

  “Interesting, especially since I got a similar vibe when I spoke to Mona Seidman today,” said Greg.

  “I remember Cory saying something about it right after Peter died.”

  “They might know something more,” Greg said, “so I invited Mona and Cory over for dinner tonight. That’s why I’m calling. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all, but I don’t have enough chicken thawed.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I already called Leoni’s and ordered a pan of their lasagna and garlic bread. I’ll pick it up on the way home. If you slap together a salad, we’re done.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I agreed. “I’ll stop by the bakery and pick up something for dessert.”

  “I told them to come by around seven thirty. Is that enough time for you?”

  I checked the time on the car’s dashboard clock. It was nearly five thirty. “Plenty of time. See you soon, honey.”

  “Love you,” my darling husband said instead of goodbye.

  “Love you back.”

  I’d just hung up when I remembered my deal with Simon Tobin. I called Greg back.

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” he answered. “You want me to also order a salad?”

  “No, we have the stuff at home to whip one up. It’s just that I forgot to tell you about my day at work. It was…well, unusual.”

  “Steele unusual or unusual in general?”

  Most of my odd days at the office usually involved Steele. “Weird unusual.” I told him about my meeting with Simon, including the fact that Barbara couldn’t find anyone by the name of Eudora Fox above ground.

  “Huh,” he answered when I’d finished. “As if you don’t have enough to do with Steele and Rocky.”

  “Yeah, but Simon doesn’t know about the Rocky and Miranda stuff, and Steele’s been pretty low-key today. This might give me a chance to be absent from the office without much notice.”

  “So tomorrow you’re going to Beverly Hills for the day?”

  “Looks that way, but I should be back mid-afternoon, so if you line up any other people to talk to, I’ll be around then. I had hoped to talk to Peter Tanaka’s mother tomorrow. Her information is on that report.”

  “I’d like to do that one with you, if I can. If she’s hesitant at all, my being in a wheelchair might soften her up a bit. Maybe we can see her tomorrow night. Let me see what I can set up.”

  With a replay of vows of love, we hung up.

  I was heading up the 405 toward home when my cell phone warned me of a shark in the water. Crap, I’d forgotten to call Steele back after I dropped off Zee. “Hi, Steele,” I said, infusing my voice with as much false perkiness as possible.

  “You alone now?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m on the 405 going north. It’s slow going.”

  “Good. Then we’ll have time for a little chat.” The sarcasm in his voice was enhanced by the slur, which was worse than it had been this morning. Either he was tired, on his meds, or both.

  “Chat away. I’m going nowhere fast.”

  “What in the hell were you thinking telling Simon Tobin he could drop by my place?”

  My heart nearly stopped, the perkiness draining out of me like old motor oil. “He didn’t, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t, but he said you suggested that I’d welcome the company. Really, Grey? Are you trying to tank my career with T&T?”

  “Of course not! It was a bluff.”

  “A bluff!” It came out buff, with the L having gone totally AWOL.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, “a buff.”

  The car to my right was trying to merge into my lane in the almost-stopped traffic. I waved at him to go ahead and held back while the vehicle inched ahead and slowly drifted into my lane in front of me. The driver waved his thanks to me through his rearview mirror. I waved back. I firmly believe in traffic karma. If you cut people off and won’t let someone merge, somewhere down the line you’re going to be treated the same on the highway. If you’re nice to others on the road, you might actually be rewarded with a decent parking spot at the mall.

  “I didn’t think for a minute he’d go visit you,” I continued saying to Steele, “or else I wouldn’t have done it.” That wasn’t entirely true. I had hoped Tobin wouldn’t head to Laguna Beach. “What’s the big woo anyway? If he had, he would have seen a guy who looks like he went one-on-one with an air bag at high speed, just like he was told.” I paused. “Look, Steele, Tobin was asking a lot of questions about how you’re doing and if you’ll be back on Monday. He was antsy about the management of our office with Jolene about to pop. If I had hemmed and hawed about anything, he would have smelled something funny. By inviting him to see for himself, he bought into the story.”

  From the other end I heard a muffled sound. It could have been a swear word or a cough; I wasn’t sure which. “He also informed me,” Steele said, “that he’s putting you on a special project in my absence.”

  “Yep. I start tomorrow.”

  “What is it?”

  I paused, preparing myself to walk through a mine field. “I don’t think I’m at liberty to discuss it, Steele.”

  “You can’t discuss it with me? I’m your boss.”

  “I can’t discuss it with anyone, but rest assured it has nothing to do with you.”

  There was a long silence from the other end. It gave me time to concentrate on my driving and move my car into the right lane. My exit would be coming up soon.

  “I have to go, Steele. I’m almost at my exit and have some errands to run before I go home. Greg and I are having company for dinner.”

  “Wait a damn minute,” Steele snapped. “Is Tobin having you snoop around on something personal for him?”

  “Speaking of snooping,” I said, ignoring his question, “nice job bringing in Barbara Marracino for the research.”

  “Nice try at deflection, Grey, but it’s not going to work.”

  “Wish I’d thought of using Barbara.”

  “That’s why
I get the big bucks,” he quipped. “Now back to this secret project.”

  “I’ll be out of the office tomorrow and Friday for sure,” I told Steele, moving the conversation forward at a good clip before he could grill me further. “I’ll be in LA tomorrow. Jill can handle anything that comes up, and I’m just a phone call away.”

  “What about the investigation into Rocky and Miranda?”

  “Greg and I are still on it,” I assured him. “And as soon as I have something more for you to do, I’ll let you know. Or should I just contact Barbara directly?”

  “Smart ass. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  The lasagna from Leoni’s was to die for. We often ordered it when we needed extra food for a party or even to take to a potluck. I had put together a large salad of fresh greens and assorted vegetables. For dessert I’d picked up a small cake. A little wine, cold beer, a few candles, and some linen napkins, and we had an impromptu dinner party. Too bad the subject would be murder and the activities of a dead woman.

  Greg got right down to business as I served up the lasagna. “So you think Miranda was fooling around on Rocky with Peter Tanaka?” he asked Mona just as I placed a plate of food in front of her.

  “I think there’s a good possibility of that,” she answered.

  “There were a few times at recent scrimmages when I saw them talking alone together,” added Cory. “One time I overheard them when they thought no one could see them. It definitely sounded like they had something going.”

  From a bag hanging on her wheelchair, Mona removed a looped grip of some sort. Using her semi-functioning hands, she wiggled a fork into one end of the grip. I started to help but a glance and a smile from Cory held me back, letting me know that Mona would want to do it on her own. It was the same with Greg. He preferred doing things for himself but didn’t hesitate to ask when he knew he needed some assistance. But Greg had full use of his hands and arms. Then I remembered how hard Mona played quad rugby. Anyone who could play that brutal team sport could certainly feed herself. Once the fork was in place, she slipped the grip over her hand and dug into her lasagna. Cory pulled a bendable straw from her bag and placed it in her wine, which I’d served to her in a sturdy tumbler instead of an easily tipped wine glass. Mona shot Cory a smile of thanks and affection.