Booby Trap by Sue Ann Jaffarian

like some coffee or something cold to drink, Ms. Grey?” Her voice was quiet and polite.
    “Please, call me Odelia. And something cold would be great, Lisa.”
    “Soft drinks or lemonade?”
    “I’d love some lemonade, if it’s no trouble.”
    Lisa shot me the briefest of smiles and went into the kitchen. The condo had an open floor plan, which allowed me to see most of the kitchen from where I sat. Lisa silently busied herself getting ice and glasses while I looked about.
    The condominium was decorated in an open, breezy style that suited Newport Beach. The sofa and chairs were covered in matching floral and checked prints of mostly pale green and rose. The wood furniture was a light pine, and there were many healthy plants on display. Framing the patio door were coordinating solid green drapes in a light fabric, and beyond I noticed white wicker furniture and more plants, many flowering. The door was open, letting in the cool ocean breeze.
    The dining area was between the kitchen and living room and held a medium table with white painted legs and a light pine table top. There were six matching chairs, all painted white, each boasting a ruffled seat cushion. Four chairs were around the table with two against the wall, standing guard on either side of a baker’s rack holding knickknacks and cookbooks. The place was almost too cute and too tidy, like the residents had nothing better to do than to clean. Even the Sunday paper was stacked neatly on the coffee table, not strewn about in sections like at our house. The Luke residence reminded me of a fastidious old woman with young taste.
    The television was a flat-screen model hung on the wall across from the sofa. It looked new. Beneath it was a credenza with a large grouping of photographs on top. I got up to study the photos. Many were of Laurie and Lisa, together and apart, during various stages of their lives, including graduations. A few were of Laurie with a young man, probably the photographer. I picked one up.
    “Is this Laurie’s fiancé?”
    Lisa came into the room holding two glasses of lemonade. She glanced at the photo as she passed and quickly hung her head. I didn’t know if she was painfully shy or if it was just the effect of her sister’s murder, but she had yet to look me in the eye.
    “Yes, that’s Kirk. Kirk Thomas.” She put the glasses down on individual coasters embossed with wildflowers. “He took many of those pictures. He’s a professional photographer. Mostly exotic wildlife.”
    I nodded. “I remember reading that in the newspaper.” I picked up another photograph, one of a couple taken many years ago. The woman looked a lot like Lisa. “Are these your parents?”
    Lisa looked at the photo in my hand. “Yes.” She sat on the sofa and picked up her lemonade, staring into the liquid instead of drinking it.
    I had a theory and tested it. “Are your parents deceased, Lisa?”
I said the direct words softly to minimize the bluntness of the question.
    She quickly popped her head up in my direction, and again I was taken aback by her appearance. “How did you know that?”
    “Just a guess. I noticed this was the only photo of them on display. They aren’t even present in the graduation photos you have here, just a much older woman.”
    “That’s Grammy, our father’s mother. She raised us after our parents were killed in a car accident. She’s dead now, too.” Her voice trailed off as if it had lost steam.
    Suddenly Lisa’s shoulders started shaking, and she gulped for air as she hyperventilated. The lemonade in her glass sloshed. Quickly, I went to her side and took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. I bundled her into my arms and held her tight, stroking her long, pretty hair and cooing soothing words into her ear until she began to calm down.
    “It’s all right, Lisa. It’s going to be okay.”
    She pulled away from me and for the first time looked into my eyes. “You don’t understand. It’s never going