Booby Trap (28 page)

Lisa was partway down
the ladder when I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Thinking the police or more firemen had made their way through the gunfire and smoke, it didn’t concern me until the door was flung open and we were face to face with Gordon Harper.

Gordon’s clothing was dirty and torn. His left bicep was bleeding. His face and bald head were sooty, his eyes red and wild. From time to time, he coughed. In his right hand was a gun, but it was a different gun than he’d had earlier.

I raised my hands slightly, including the one with the phone.

“I thought we had a date, Odelia. Not standing me up, are you?”

“Okay, fella, take it easy,” said the fireman.

Harper looked at him as if just noticing him for the first time. He smiled at the man standing in his bright yellow suit and shot him. No warning, no threat. Just shot him. The firefighter fell to the floor like an anvil.

I screamed.

From the phone, we could hear Greg shouting.

Gordon held out his hand for the phone. Reluctantly, I handed it to him, then stepped back.

“This is Gordon Harper,” he wheezed into the phone. “Who’s this?” After listening, Gordon smiled. “Hey, sport. Hope you don’t mind if I borrow your wife, but she’s my not-so-little ticket out of this mess.”

There was a longer pause. Harper appeared to be listening. Finally, he spoke again. “Agent Hardiman, nice to talk to you again.”

Harper sneered. From the wild look in his eye, it was clear to see his train had come off the track.

“As I told you before, Hardiman, I’m leaving here with Mrs. Stevens. Any attempts to stop me and she’s dead. And this time there will be no playing games.” He listened, then exploded. “No,
you
listen to
me
! I’m leaving here in my car. Odelia is driving that car.”

At that moment, another fireman raised his head over the windowsill. Harper fired a shot at him but, thankfully, missed. The helmet dropped out of sight.

“You already have one dead fireman. You want more?” Harper shouted into the phone. “I’ll pile up the bodies and put Odelia on top as the cherry. How’s that?” A long pause. Harper smiled, his teeth very white in his grimy face. “That’s what I thought. Good decision.”

With the gun, Harper indicated for me to come to him. I hesitated but eventually took a small step forward. He was standing to the side of the staircase, the gun pointed at me from his extended hand.

“We’re coming down, Hardiman. Get everyone back if you want to see this lady alive.”

What happened next was a blur. A big golden blur.

Just as the gun was being waved at me again, Wainwright came charging up the stairs and launched himself at Gordon Harper, knocking him to the ground. The powerful jaw chomped down on the big man’s gun arm without mercy. Both man and animal fell to the floor, wrestling for control. Wainwright’s growls and Harper’s cries of pain filled the room.

The gun didn’t come loose, but the phone did. I grabbed it. “Harper’s down,” I screamed into the mouthpiece.

That’s when I heard the shot and Wainwright’s yelp.

My world stood still.

The big yellow dog lay sprawled on top of Gordon Harper. Harper struggled to get out from under the animal. Just as he pushed Wainwright’s still body aside, I shook off my shock and horror and kicked into action. Literally.

Rushing to where both lay on the carpet, I starting kicking Gordon Harper in the head before he could get up. I kicked as hard as I could, both his head and face. Had he been a soccer ball, I would have scored the winning goal. His nose gushed blood. His hand let loose the gun. When he tried to protect his head, I assaulted his ribs.

Every kick came from my gut and meant something. I kicked for those who couldn’t. I kicked for Greg. I kicked for Seamus. Even for Muffin. But most of all, I kicked for Wainwright.

Gordon Harper had just stolen the heart out of our family, and it was unforgivable.

Summer was around the
corner. Soon the kids would be out of school and the tourists would flock to Seal Beach in droves. Already, traffic was bad along Pacific Coast Highway.

Temperatures were in the eighties today, with a slight breeze coming in off the ocean. A perfect day for a barbecue. It was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, and Casa de Stevens-Grey was alive with activity.

We had rounded up the usual suspects. Zee and Seth Washington, minus their nearly grown children. Jill Bernelli and Sally Kipman. Kelsey and Beau Cavendish. Dev Frye and Beverly. Even a few of Greg’s basketball chums and their wives and girlfriends were here. Our house and patio were packed with good friends.

Greg manned the grill. Iced tea, beer, and margaritas flowed happily. The dining table groaned under the weight of all the food. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a couple of desserts.

While Seamus chose to stay in our bedroom, away from all the hullabaloo, Muffin was the belle of the ball. She hopped from lap to lap, purring and soaking in the adoration as if it were a catnip spa.

Muffin is officially ours now. When the dust settled, Lisa Luke admitted she didn’t want her. And, of course, we were thrilled to keep the furry little scamp. Cleared of any allegations, Lisa moved to Dallas two weeks ago. The company she worked for has an office there and was more than happy to give her a transfer. With everything that had happened, she was eager to start fresh somewhere else, and I didn’t blame her one bit. We had lunch the day before she left, and I assured her she could call on me or Zee any time she needed to talk.

Things didn’t go as easy for Kirk Thomas or Jane Sharp. Both of them are facing federal charges for smuggling. It came out that Jane had been smuggling various items into the country for Gordon Harper for quite a while, hiding the goods in antiques and baubles she used in her decorating business. Shortly after Kirk was arrested, she was found safe but a nervous wreck at Kirk’s family’s cabin in Big Bear. She and Kirk were going to meet there after Lisa got the cat’s collar. They were going to divvy up the diamonds and go their separate ways. Kirk told the police that while Lisa knew about the diamonds, it wasn’t until later, after the smuggling, when he needed to get the collar back from us. The police came to the same conclusion.

Dr. Eddy and Jane Sharp are going forward with their divorce. Since Jane’s arrest, Lil has been spending more time at her son’s home, helping with the running of the household and the children. She called the other day to let me know that she and Brian have been talking more and are growing much closer. Perfect4u has disappeared forever, or so Lil says.

Gordon Harper is in prison awaiting trial for a laundry list of things, including the murder of Laurie Luke and the fireman killed at Seventh Veil. I’m sure I’ll be asked to testify when the time comes. I hope he rots in prison—which could happen, considering his age.

My thoughts were interrupted by the stampede of young feet and hungry mouths into my kitchen.

“Odelia, Greg says we can have some ice cream,” the boys said as a duet.

I looked from Silas to his brother Billy. “He did, did he? And what about your lunch? The food will be done soon. Wouldn’t you rather have a burger or a hot dog first?”

Billy piped up. “We can eat it all!”

I tousled his hair. “I bet you can.”

Silas had been one of the heroes of the day, after all. As soon as the SUV carted me and Lisa away, Silas had climbed out of the back seat of my car and searched for the cell phone he’d seen Charles take from me and throw. Silas had located Greg’s number on it and made the call for help.

“How about a fruit juice bar instead?” I asked them. “It’s better for you.”

Silas nodded okay, but Billy had to think it over. In the end, the fruit juice bars were unanimous.

A loud whine broke the air. Behind the boys sat Wainwright, his big tail thumping on the tile. He wanted something, too.

“Can we give Wainwright a snack?” asked Silas.

“Okay,” I said, getting out a couple of doggie biscuits, “but don’t excite him too much. He still needs his rest.”

The boys sat on the floor in the living room next to the thick bed we’d recently bought for Wainwright. With one boy on either side, the dog settled in between them. Together the three munched their snacks, happy as pigs at the trough.

Zee came into the kitchen as the boys left it. “Why don’t you go outside and be with your guests?”

“I just have to finish icing this carrot cake, then I’m done. I promise.”

I was just about to dip a knife into the cream cheese icing when the doorbell rang. The dog barked a few times and slowly got to his feet.

Wainwright’s going to be fine, but it would take time and patience for him to get all his strength back. Still, he keeps his post and protects his family. Injury or no injury, he’s still the first to reach the door most of the time.

When Harper had come back to the apartment hell-bent on dragging me off as a hostage for the second time, Greg had sent in his beloved dog to find me—to run into the burning building in his stead and go places and at speeds his wheelchair would not allow him to go himself. Having Wainwright save me had been the same as Greg taking down Harper in person.

“I’ll get that,” Zee said, as she followed the dog to the front door.

A minute later, Zee returned. “You’ve got company.”

I glanced into the living room to find Michael Steele standing there dressed in tennis togs. Next to him on the floor were two large document boxes. I handed the icing knife to Zee and went to him.

“Well, Steele, this is a surprise.”

He shrugged. “I was on my way to a game and thought I’d drop this stuff by.”

“This stuff?” I looked down at the boxes. “What’s
this stuff
?”

“
This stuff
is the due diligence data for that new deal Woobie just took on. You know, the sale of that restaurant chain. It needs to be sorted and indexed ASAP.”

“ASAP? But it’s the holiday weekend.”

“I’m aware of that, Grey. And a good time for me to call in my marker, don’t you think?”

Wainwright busied himself sniffing Steele’s sneakers and legs. Steele squatted to look at the animal, snout to snout. “So, this is the big hero.” Steele scratched the dog behind the ears. Wainwright wagged his tail and licked his face.

“Traitor,” I said to the dog. He just wagged his tail with more enthusiasm.

“But I have guests, Steele.”

Steele rose and peeked out towards the patio. “For the entire weekend?”

My nose twitched in annoyance. My plan was to relax all weekend. I looked down at the boxes and up at Steele. “You sure you need this ASAP?”

“I need it by next Monday, and this week is a short workweek because of the holiday.”

I sighed. A deal was a deal, especially if made with the devil. “I guess I could get a start on it this weekend.”

“Great.” He made no move to leave.

“We’re having a few friends over, Steele. Would you like to join us?” When he hesitated, I added, “You know some of them.”

“Is that Jill?”

“Yes, Jill and Sally are here, as well as Kelsey and her husband.” I paused. “But, of course, I wouldn’t want to take you away from your tennis date.”

Steele whipped out his BlackBerry and punched a button. “Hey, Dodd. Steele here. I’m afraid I can’t make it today. Sorry, pal.” Steele paused and listened. My guess was that the person on the other line was Marvin Dodd, one of Steele’s regular tennis buddies.

Steele chuckled into the phone and winked at me. “Of course, a woman’s involved. Isn’t there always a woman involved?”

As Steele headed in the direction of the patio, I joined Zee in the kitchen. She’d almost finished icing the carrot cake. Together, we put the last few items out on the food table. As soon as Greg said the meat was ready, we’d yell
come and get it
.

I guess you’re wondering about the Blond Bomber. I’m happy to say he has been apprehended, and purely by accident. When I found out his identity, I was equally surprised and not surprised, sprinkled with just a little terror.

The Blond Bomber was none other than Paul Milholland, Jane’s longtime jack-of-all-trades. Given the circumstances, it made sense. He knew all of her clients and knew exactly what she looked like all the time, even when she cut and colored her hair. The theory is that because the women knew him from the work done at their homes, they felt comfortable and had no reason to fear him. They had walked into his deadly trap as easily as lambs to slaughter. Once captured, the police learned he was obsessed with Jane Sharp and deeply offended by her sexual promiscuity. Yet, in his own way, he loved her too much to kill her outright, so he killed her by proxy instead.

When I think about Paul insisting I look into his van, and how close I came to doing it, I get the chilly shakes.

Ironic, isn’t it? Gordon Harper was having Paul follow me, hoping I’d lead him to the Blond Bomber so he could kill him in retaliation for his ex-wife’s death, and all the time Paul Milholland was the serial killer. The man who’d murdered Crystal Lee Harper was under Gordon’s nose the whole time.

During her debriefing, Agent Maria Santiago, who’d been shot by Gordon during the melee, gave the police information on Paul Milholland and his part in the smuggling ring. It was during a search of his home that police uncovered evidence linking him to the deaths of the Blond Bomber victims. They are also checking to see if he might be responsible for the deaths or disappearances of other women in California.

Paul was captured about a week ago, near Santa Barbara. He’d been identified from a photo broadcast on all the news shows. When the police caught up to Paul, he had his latest victim in the back of his vehicle, a different van. Fortunately, she was still alive.

The last Blond Bomber target wasn’t a long, lean, and leggy blond. Nor was she a curvy woman with bobbed red hair. The rescued woman was short and fat, with medium-length brown hair.

When I was told, I passed out.

The End