Free Booby Trap by Sue Ann Jaffarian

something.”
    I looked at Zee. Her glare was still fixed on my face. Steele caught it also.
    “Damn, Zee, you look like you just caught your husband with a Laker girl.”
    Zee turned her frosty stare in Steele’s direction. “Mr. Steele, you will cease your vulgar comments and leave. And please shut the door behind you. I need to speak with Odelia alone.” She turned her piercing eyes back to me.
    Steele hesitated, not sure whether he should leave or call security. I picked up my phone and called Jill’s desk. When I got no answer, I called the front desk and asked our receptionist to page her to Steele’s phone number.
    “I’m sure Jill will get right back to you, Steele. Why don’t you just mosey along so Zee and I can chat?”
    He looked at the work piled on my desk and started to say something, but one glance in Zee’s direction and he wisely held his tongue. Quickly, I covered the two steps to the door and attempted to herd him out.
    Steele leaned towards me just as I started to shut the door. “I’ll bet you one of those disgusting apple fritters you love that your home girl’s heard what you’re up to.”
    In a blinding flash, I knew Steele was probably right. Somehow, Zee had found out about the Blond Bomber. I stole a glance in her direction. Yep, that could be it. My involvement in yet another potentially dangerous undertaking would drive her nuts. Then again, Steele could be wrong. It happened. Not often, but it did once-in-a-blue-moon happen.
    I sat down and looked Zee straight in the face, sure I’d never see that apple fritter.

“So Zee’s pretty pissed off at you right now, huh?” Greg asked the question while we were heading north on the 405 Freeway. We were on our way to our meeting with Gordon Harper.
    “Not me, darling hubby, us . Zee is pissed off at us .” I smiled to myself. As much as it killed me to see Zee so upset, it was rather funny to see her face when I told her that Greg and I had teamed up for this mission. “She was sure you’d lost your mind. The verdict was in about my mind a long time ago.”
    It seems that Lisa Luke took my advice and decided the day after our meeting to get involved with Reality Check.
    Me and my big mouth.
    At six am on Monday, she’d showed up at the Back Bay to join the Reality Check walkers. And being the charming hostess that she is, Zee took Lisa under her wing and chatted with her during the entire walk. And Lisa, not realizing my past history with dead bodies, talked about our meeting and my questions about her sister and the Blond Bomber. It was all Zee needed to fuel the disbelief and outrage that brought her to my office a few hours later. The fact that I wasn’t looking for the Blond Bomber but was looking for proof that someone wasn’t the Blond Bomber didn’t comfort her one whit. She left an hour later, threatening to lock both me and Greg up in a mental institution and throw away the key, but at least I had extracted a promise from her not to get involved or to call Dev Frye about it.
    Greg chuckled. “Did you tell her that I was along for the ride to protect you?”
    “I did, and it didn’t matter. I’m sure Seth will be calling and yelling at you tomorrow about it.”
    Greg started to say something but hesitated.
    “What?” I turned in my seat to look at him.
    He kept his eyes on the road when he answered. “He called the office today, just after lunch.”
    “And?”
    “He asked if we needed a lawyer. Said he’d be willing to put us on retainer.”
    Gordon Harper lived in a luxury high-rise condominium in Marina Del Rey. The view from his living room included the marina, complete with boats and slips. His condo was spacious, elegant, and had the almost too-perfect look of being professionally decorated. It also included a very impressive but small collection of artwork and sculpture. In spite of how well-behaved Wainwright is, I was glad we’d left him home to referee the cats. The Harper residence did not look