Booby Trap by Sue Ann Jaffarian

Dr. Eddy. But you have to promise not to tell anyone or to get involved any more than taking me to his office.”
    “Don’t worry about me, Odelia. Your job is getting into trouble. My job is praying for your safety.”
    I was thankful someone was.
    While we ate, I filled her in on Lil, Dr. Eddy, Gordon and Crystal Lee Harper, Laurie and Lisa Luke, and even Muffin. When I was done, her mouth hung open like a gaping cave. While she sorted through all the information, I cut off another bite-size piece of my burrito with the edge of my fork and shoveled it into my mouth. I followed that with one last bite before pushing away my half-eaten burrito. My nerves were telling me to devour the whole thing, lock, stock, and guacamole, but my better judgment won out for a change, and I decided to save the rest for lunch the next day.
    I hadn’t asked Dr. Eddy about Crystal Lee Harper, but I did ask him if he knew Laurie Luke. After all, she did work at the hospital where he saw most of his surgical patients. I had let the question slip out during the hands-on exam of my breasts, hoping he would think it was simply nervous babble. My investigation intent aside, it was nervous babble.
    The doctor commented about the murder being a tragedy but said he hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing Laurie Luke personally. As far as I could tell, his response seemed truthful and sincere.
    “His own mother thinks he’s the Blond Bomber?” Zee had put down her fork and was staring at me.
    I nodded, pretty sure she was thinking about her son, Jacob, and whether or not she could ever think such a thing about him.
    “His own mother ,” she repeated, struggling to keep her voice quiet. “And what do you think?”
    “My intuition is telling me he’s not the serial killer, in spite of some of the coincidences. But that’s all I have to go on.” Our waitress came by with our check, and I asked her to box up the remainder of the burrito. “There’s no hard evidence that he is the killer, but there’s nothing yet to prove he’s not.”
    “What about motive?”
    “Do serial killers need a motive?” I paused. “I mean, it’s not like they kill because of vengeance or greed. From what little I know about it from TV or the newspapers, it seems like they have a pattern and choose their victims based on some internal reasoning that makes sense only to them. But then again, I’m getting most of my information from TV, which is hardly known for its accuracy.”
    “Too bad you can’t pick Dev’s brain without raising red flags.”
    I laughed. “Red flags? If I mention anything to Dev Frye about serial killers or the Blond Bomber, he’ll have me thrown in jail and guard it himself. There really isn’t a nonchalant way for me to ask him about crime in any way without his antennae vibrating.”
    Zee nodded in agreement.
    “By the way, did you notice the woman who took me back to the examining room?”
    “You mean the one in the snug uniform and hooker shoes?”
    I smiled. Zee seldom missed anything.
    “Yes. Did you notice any of the other women in the office dressed like that?” Without waiting for her response, I continued. “Amber— that was her name—was a definite blond bombshell. Don’t you think if Brian Eddy was the Blond Bomber, he’d find easier pickings at work instead of combing Southern California for victims?”
    “Not really.” Zee paused to think it over. “Killing someone so close to home would raise major suspicions. The police would definitely question all the men who knew her, including her boss.” She paused. “Do you know if any of the other victims were patients of his besides Crystal Lee?”
    “Not yet, but I intend to find out, though I doubt the young girl, Gabby, was.”
    “But now that you mention it,” Zee said once she’d finished eating, “none of the other women in that office that I saw were dressed like that one assistant. I’ll ask La Tanya about Amber.”
    “No, Zee. I don’t want you