Zee had insisted on coming with me. Nothing I said, promised, or threatened could change her mind. Oh well, why not? She knew most of the story anyway, and maybe that menacing stance of hers would work on Stella.
Leaving Zee posted at the front door in case someone did answer, I walked around to the side of the house, looking in windows as I went. Nothing. No sign of life anywhere. I came across a gate in the high fence, but it was locked and there was no place for me to get a foothold to climb up and look over. Not that I was any good at climbing anything anyway.
I walked back to the front of the house, thinking about my next move. Walking over to the jeep, I touched the hood. It was cold. Chances are the other car's engine would be also.
Zee came up to me. "Where'd you learn that?" she asked.
"On TV," I replied. "They always check the hood of the car." She nodded solemnly at my wisdom.
"I'm going to check the garage," I told her. "See if the door connected to the house is locked."
I walked slowly into the garage, all the while hoping someone would answer the front door-maybe Stella wrapped in a towel, fresh from the shower. That would make me feel foolish, but better. Zee shadowed me. At the same time, both of us touched the hood of the Lexus-stone cold.
I was about to grab the doorknob of the connector door to the house when Zee touched my shoulder, stopping me. She pulled a linen hankie from her purse and offered it to me. Like on TV, I thought with a smile. Taking the hankie, I used it to cover the doorknob while I turned it. It opened easily. On the other side was a service room that led to the extra-large kitchen I had seen on Thursday.
"Helloooooo," I called in a raised voice. "Stella? Anyone home?" Nothing, only Zee's breathing close behind me.
I entered the kitchen and called out again. Still nothing. Looking out the large windows facing the back yard, I scanned the pool area.
"Call 9-1-1!" I yelled to Zee. "Call 9-1-1!"
Dropping my bag, I started running for one of the French doors leading to the back. Someone was face down in the pool. I yanked open the door and dashed outside, kicking off my sandals and undoing my skirt as I went. At the pool's edge, I dropped my heavy cotton skirt to the ground and plunged into the water.
I turned the body over. It was Jackson Blake. Looping an arm under one of his, I started making for the shallow end and the stairs leading to the deck. He was naked, the heavy, dark hair on his head and body matted. I had almost reached the stairs when a piercing scream came from the house.
Zee. My heart almost stopped.
A quick look at Jackson's face told me he was already dead. I let go of the body. Frantically, I swam to the nearest edge and hoisted my bulk up out of the water. My thick legs pumped in the direction of the house and my wet feet almost skidded out from under me. Zee met me by the door and collapsed into my arms in a dead faint.
"Zee! Zee!" I yelled loudly. I patted her face firmly, increasing it to slight slaps. She moved and groaned but didn't come to. Lifting my soggy blouse, I wrung out a section over her face. The cold water roused her. She looked up at me, her dark face the color of cigarette ash.
"Body... kitchen," she forced out. Sirens could be heard in the distance.
"Shhhhh," I told her, cradling her head in my lap and rocking gently. "Shhhhh. It's going to be okay."
TWENTY-FOUR
I WATCHED As THE coroner's office took charge of the lifeless body of Jackson Blake. Officers and other officials were taking photos and going over and tagging every inch of the grounds. Just like on TV.
Devin Frye was sitting with Zee and Seth at one of the several patio tables, asking her questions. Seth's arms were wrapped protectively around his wife. I had called them both as soon as the paramedics arrived.
Sitting on a patio chair, I shivered under the blanket the paramedics had given me. I had retrieved and slipped on my dry skirt, but my other clothes were still wet. Not far from me, Dev's partner, Detective Zarrabi, was talking to several police officers. I could hear him giving instructions on questioning neighbors. Then they disbursed.
The other body, the one that caused Zee to scream, wasn't a corpse at all, but the barely living form of Karla Blake. She had been stabbed numerous times and left to die in the archway be tween the kitchen and family room. Zee had literally stumbled across her after making the emergency call. Unlike her wayward husband, Karla had been fully clothed. An ambulance spirited her away minutes after arriving.
Dev walked over to me. Behind him were Seth and Zee. Zee was bundled under a blanket of her own. She smiled weakly at me. Her color was better, but she still looked shaky.
Seth spoke first. "I'm going to run Zee home, Odelia, then come back. I want to be here when Detective Frye questions you." "
I don't need a lawyer, Seth," I told him. "Go home, take care of Zee. This is my fault anyway."
Zee started to say something, but Seth stopped her with a look. He knelt in front of me. From his face, I knew he was angry, but he was keeping it under control. Barely. Dev excused himself and went over to talk to Zarrabi.
"Zenobia told me that you didn't want her to go with you today; that you didn't want her to come here either, but she insisted. That's her own doing." His voice was deep and soothing, but stern. "But what in the hell, girl, were you doing mixed up in this in the first place?"
"But Seth," I argued feebly, "they kept mixing me up in it."
"Uh-huh. And they, whoever they are, kept you from calling the police, too, I suppose?"
I looked at Seth, but said nothing. I wanted to cry. I was cold, tired, and wet. And I wished I had never talked to Sterling Price about lunchboxes.
I wanted Greg.
I had a lot to tell Dev Frye. A lot of it Zee didn't know. But I still didn't think I needed a lawyer, especially one who'd kill me once he found out about my escapade with Willie and Enrique.
"Seth, I'll be fine. You need to be with Zee." He started to say something, but I stopped him. "I didn't do anything wrong, and I promise I'll spill my guts to Detective Frye." Almost magically, Dev showed up next to us. "If I feel I need a lawyer, I'll call you," I told Seth.
I thought about something else, letting my mind dwell on practical matters for a moment. It felt like a mini vacation from the topic of murder. "My car's at your place," I told Seth. "I'll drive Zee's car back to your house and pick up mine as soon as I'm done."
"I'd prefer you stayed with us tonight," Seth told me, standing up to his full height.
"I'll be fine. And besides, Wainwright's there. He's a great watchdog." I paused. "Oh, geez, I forgot about the dog, he'll be busting his bladder if I don't get home soon."
"Don't worry, Zee and I will swing by and let him out for a minute. Should we feed him, too?"
I shook my head. "No, he eats in the morning, like Seamus. But you might toss them both a couple of treats. They're in the pantry. And tell them I'll be home soon."
Seth shook his head in resignation and looked to Dev, who responded with a shrug.
Before leaving, Seth bent down and kissed my forehead like the good surrogate brother he was. "Do yourself and me a favor," he said in a low voice slightly tinged with humor. "Marry Greg and move to Seal Beach."
After the Washingtons left, Dev moved me into the living room and deposited me on one of the hunter green sofas. He sat on the other.
"You and Greg getting married?" he asked as he got out his trusty notepad and pen.
"He asked me," I answered.
"Congratulations," he said in return, not looking at me. "Greg's a fine man."
"I know."
Dev glanced up at me. His eyes held mine for a moment before he looked back down at his notebook. "Now, let's talk about this Sterling Price mess and what you know about it."
I told him everything I knew, unloading all the information given me by the various players like unwanted Christmas gifts. I even told Dev about the day of the funeral when I witnessed Stella playing both Jackson and Kyle, and about her visit to my house. I told
him how Sterling Price had given Kyle the house and the Center in return for information on Karla's plan to take over Sterling Homes, and how I had witnessed some of the documents on those transactions the day Sterling was killed.
Much of this, he told me, he already knew or suspected from talking to each of the parties in the murder investigation. People had motives, but so far there was no evidence pointing to anyone in particular.
Finally, I told him about Amy Chow and the Holy Pail buried in the park in Tustin.
"So you have the lunchbox?" he asked.
"Now I do," I told him. "Amy gave it to me this morning, before she left town. I stashed it in my office at the firm."
"And she told you she was going to get twenty-five thousand dollars for it from Stella Hughes."
I nodded. "Yes, but she said she stopped by here this morning to collect and Stella wasn't home." Amy's frightened face swept across my consciousness. "Dev, Amy Chow was scared spitless this morning. Do you think she came by here and saw something, like Jackson and Karla?"
"Maybe she saw Jackson's body," he said. "The coroner's early estimate is that Jackson Blake has been dead and floating in the pool a while-maybe since late last night or early this morning. Karla's wounds were fairly recent, fortunately for her, or she would have bled to death."
"Like maybe she came by and surprised the killer late this afternoon?"
"It's a possibility. Could be she was looking for her husband." Dev looked at his notes. "You said he was having an affair with Stella Hughes, correct?" I nodded in confirmation. "And Stella lives here."
"Was he stabbed, too?" I asked.
"Yes, he was. From what we can determine so far, he was stabbed while laying on a lounge chair and then rolled into the pool, probably while still alive."
Dev studied me while he took a pack of gum out of the breast pocket of his jacket and offered me a piece. I took one and together we unwrapped them and stuck them in our mouths.
We chewed in peace. Dev was a big gum chewer and now I knew why. It was relaxing. The spearmint filtered through my mouth, bringing freshness and comfort, much like a Thin Mint but with out the calories. Murder was melting away momentarily, even if it was only as long as the flavor lasted.
"Okay," Dev said, "we know where the lunchbox is, but what did you find out about it?" He shot me a look that demanded an answer. "I know you, you've been busy."
"Well, since you've asked," I began, and I told him the history of the cursed Chappy Wheeler lunchbox, including my visit with Lester and Catherine.
Pulling the photograph out of my bag, I showed it to him. "I think Stella Hughes is the daughter of Lester Miles and Catherine Matthews, two of the actors from The Chappy Wheeler Show. But if that's true, she doesn't know it. She thinks she's Chappy Wheeler's daughter by Catherine; that Lester Miles is her adoptive father."
Dev took the photo and looked at it. He shook his head slowly. "Seems you stole a photograph the last time I worked a murder case involving you. This becoming a habit?"
I started to smile, but it faded to black when I saw he wasn't trying to be amusing. With a big sigh, I squared my damp shoulders and spilled the beans about my morning with Willie Porter and about his wanting revenge on Stella. Of course, I told it with some careful editing.
"Wait a minute," Dev said, stopping me. "You actually met William Proctor, the Investanet guy?"
I nodded. "Yes, this morning in Santa Ana."
He looked at me in disbelief. "And you didn't think that was significant enough to call me?" Dev stood up abruptly. "Damn it, Odelia," he said angrily. "He might be tied to what happened here."
"I don't think so, Dev," I said, keeping my cool. "Willie told me he was a thief, not a killer, and I believe him."
"Willie?" Dev asked, towering over me, scowling down at me. He ran a big hand over his weary face. "Odelia, I know you're not a stupid person, so why would you believe someone like Proctor? Just because he said so? He's a criminal, Odelia. A big-time criminal who made millions lying to people."
I looked away, anywhere but at Dev.
"Please, Odelia, please don't tell me you feel it in your heart." He said it with his right hand placed over his heart for emphasis, his tone laced with sarcasm. It was something I hadn't seen in him before.
"So where's Proctor now?" he asked, trying to get a grip on himself.
"I have no idea."
Dev sat down next to me on the sofa, his face inches from mine. "Okay, Odelia, out with it. The whole story again on Proctor, from start to finish, no omissions, and I want the address and phone number you have for him."
I told him everything, minute by minute of my morning, no delicate exclusions this time. When I got to the part about rolling around on the ground with Enrique and the gun, I thought Dev was going to have a seizure. I even told him about Willie admitting to searching my home and how he and Enrique were the two men who vandalized Woobie.
When we were through, Dev walked me to Zee's car. One of his beefy hands gripped my upper arm firmly, like I was a criminal he was afraid would escape.
"You are to go straight home after you go to the Washingtons," he demanded. "Got it?"
I nodded.
"I'm going to call you later to make sure. Got it?"
I nodded.
"You are not to go out or let anyone in-no one. Got it?"
Nod.
"You still have a security alarm at your place?"
"Yes"
"You are to set the alarm and keep that dog with you at all times."
"Got it."
He gave me a grin, in spite of himself.
"But what about the lunchbox?" I asked Dev.
He let loose his grip on my arm and I felt the circulation return to it. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out while he thought about what to do.
"Anyone else know you have it?"
"Only Amy Chow, and she's probably hiding in the desert by now."
"Keep it where it is. It's probably safe there and we don't need it right now for anything. I'll stop by on Monday to pick it up."
"Okay."
Dev started to turn away, to go back into the house, but stopped. "Have any weapons?" he asked.
"A purse-size pepper spray and a baseball bat. My dad gave them to me after I was shot last year."
"Get them out and keep them with you. Got it?"
TWENTY-FIVE
THE PHONE RANG. I opened one eye and cocked it at the digital clock. Six A.M. on the nose. Groan.
True to his word, Dev had called me the night before. He called late, around eleven. Said he had just finished up at the Price house for the day, but would have to go back the next. Karla was out of surgery but still clung to life. There had been no sighting yet of either Stella or Kyle.
After assuring him that the hatches were battened down and the pepper spray, dog, and bat were close by, Dev said he would call again in the morning.
Greg, too, had called late last night. Suffice it to say, he was not a happy camper. Not able to reach me early yesterday evening, he had called Zee and Seth looking for me. Seth brought him up to date. Once Greg did reach me, he was sick with worry and ranted for a half hour.
I could have killed Seth. I didn't see why Greg had to know any of this until he got home. It wasn't like he could do anything about it from Minnesota but stew. Before hanging up, Greg had insisted that I give him Dev's number.
The phone rang a second time. The dog was stretched out next to me. He yawned, slightly lifted his large head, and dropped it back down. The cat, curled at the foot of the bed, didn't even make that effort. The three of us were in total agreement.
It had been a hard night. After accidentally setting off the house alarm when I let the dog out on the back patio, I paced the floor, dragging the bat along as a walking stick. Each crunch of tires on the street or scratch of shrubs on the windows set my hair on end like straight pins in a tomato-shaped pincushion.
On the third ring, I reached for the phone and said a sleepy
hello into the receiver.
"What's going on over at Stella's place?"
I shot straight up into a sitting position. "Willie?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Where are you?"
"Never mind where I am. Enrique saw you at Price's house yesterday. The news last night said that someone had been killed there?"
"Umm, yes, that's true. Jackson Blake, Sterling's son-in-law, was stabbed to death and thrown into the pool." I swallowed hard. "I found him. And Sterling's daughter has been critically stabbed."
Wait a minute. I rubbed sleep from my eyes. "Enrique was there?" I asked with surprise.
"Of course," Willie said casually. "But he never saw Stella. Where is she?"
"I don't know. Sterling's son, Kyle, is also missing. The police are looking for them both."
There was a long pause. I thought the line had gone dead. "Willie, you still there?"
"Hmm," he mumbled. "You okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine, just rattled."
"Stay put," he ordered. "Don't go anywhere unless you absolutely have to. There's a real sick screwball on the loose."
"The police pretty much told me the same thing."
Willie chuckled into the receiver. "For once, I'm on their side." He paused. "You want me to send Enrique over to keep you company?"
Oh boy, a cute young bodyguard with a gun. How lucky could a girl get?
"Thanks, but no thanks," I said. "Not that I don't find him competent."
Willie laughed lightly. "I'll tell him that." "
I have to pick my boyfriend up at the airport later. I don't think he'd be too thrilled to see Enrique standing next to me when he got off the plane. He's already pretty upset over this." Now it was my turn to pause. "Umm, Willie, you and Enrique had nothing to do with this, right?"
"No, Odelia, we didn't." His voice was heavy with impatience. "I have no beef with the Price family, only with Stella."
The phone went dead. I tried punching in star-six-nine to call back the number, but a recording advised me that the feature was not available at this time. Weary, I flopped back in bed.
The Curse of the Holy Pail #2 Page 22
