J. Jance - Hand of Evil

“Like a war medal?” Ali asked.

Brooks nodded. “It belonged to a guy named Arthur Reed, whose life I happened to save when his vehicle crashed through some ice and he almost drowned. He sent me the medal when the war was over. Said he never would have been alive to receive it if I hadn’t saved his sorry butt to begin with.” Brooks fell quiet for a moment and then continued.

“I was always a bit different back home. My family wasn’t keen on having people of my persuasion hanging about. After the war I tried going home where my own parents treated me like an outcast. For a while I sat around wallowing in self-pity, but after Art sent me that medal, I made up my mind to come here to the U.S. in hopes of starting over. Once I got here, the other guy, the second Marine, heard that Anna Lee was looking for a bodyguard and driver, and he put me in touch with her. So that was the second miracle. The rest is history.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Ali asked.

“Because, according to what Mr. Holman tells me, you’ve been through your own kind of war, Ms. Reynolds. And I think you’ve earned your own kind of medal. When the police release it from evidence, I want you to have it.”

“I can’t possibly…”

“Yes, you can,” Brooks insisted. “I’m like Art Reed, you see. I had no idea how far gone Miss Arabella was. If it hadn’t been for you, chances are, I’d be dead now, too, right along with Mr. Ashcroft the third. That’s why I’m determined to pass it along. And now I’d like you to get dressed and come with me. I want to take you for a ride.”

“A ride,” Ali echoed. “Where to?”

“To the house,” Brooks said. “To Anna Lee Ashcroft’s house. To what I hope will be your house someday. I’d like to show you some of the changes I think are in order. Come on now, Ms. Reynolds. Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” Ali objected. “I know what you’re doing. This is exactly how you used to treat Arabella-how you’d talk your way around her and get her to do what you wanted. It’s how you got her to be…normal.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Brooks said with a smile. “It worked for Miss Arabella, and I’m quite sure it will work for you as well.”

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Saturday, April 1, 2006

Happy April Fool’s Day. I woke up this morning laughing. What’s so funny? Well, let’s see. I’ve bought a house that needs everything-new plumbing, new wiring, new roof, new windows. How could any of that even remotely be construed as hilarious? For one thing, I’ve never built anything in my life.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of help. My father is itching to get his hands on the place. So is my son, Chris. So is Leland Brooks. So is Dave Holman.

They’re all brimming over with suggestions about how to do this and that, and I’m prepared to take their ideas under advisement. But if this is going to be my house, I’m going to be the one with the final say. Next week I’ll be traveling down to Phoenix to interview several architects, and we’ll see if one of them measures up.

People who’ve lived through their own remodeling projects tell me that tackling this kind of job is no laughing matter, but this morning I beg to differ. The clouds finally seem to have lifted. Fixing Anna Lee Ashcroft’s house is going to be dreadfully hard work, but I’m looking forward to it. In fact, I can hardly wait.

After months of living in a fog of grief, I’m finally ready to step back out into the sunlight.

Demolition? Plaster dust? Building permits? All I can say is, “Bring it on!”

posted by Babe, 9:27

A.M.