J. Jance - Web of Evil

"We're all dealing with a good deal of emotional upheaval at the moment, Ms. Ragsdale," he said soothingly. "For right now, though, I think it would be best if we all refrained from tossing around unfounded allegations."

Les Jordan nodded in agreement. "Mr. Angeleri is right," he said. "We need to keep from being drawn into making any kind of accusations. As for the baby, there are laws on the books in the state of California that are specifically designed to deal with cases like thislaws that protect the interests of in utero or omitted offspring. No doubt some funds would be made available from the estate to support the child and monies held in trust until he or she"

"She," Monique supplied.

Jordan nodded. "Until she reaches her majority. Most likely a guardian ad litem would be appointed to protect the child's interests in the meantime."

"That's fine and good for the baby," Monique Ragsdale objected. "But what about my daughter? What happens to her? Does that mean she could be evicted and put out on the street?"

"No one here is suggesting any such thing, certainly not at this time," Les Jordan said. "But the truth is, as I told you earlier, your daughter is merely an intended wife as opposed to a wife in fact. Unless Mr. Grayson has made some kind of specific provisions for her, through the purchase of life insurance or something of that nature, I don't know of any legal remedies that would come into play that would allow your daughter to go against the will. That's not to say there aren't any, but none come readily to mind."

"What if you went ahead and finalized the divorce?" Monique's question was addressed to Ted Grantham.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Monique was undaunted. "Harlan here has found a similar case in New Jersey where the divorce was finalized after the husband's death. That cleared the way for the property agreement to stand in court and made for simplified estate planning. The divorce also automatically negated the old will. In this case, that might work to Sonia's benefit."

"But not to mine," Ali said sharply.

"This isn't about you," Monique said firmly. "It's all about the baby."

"And what about me?" April asked. "Divorce or no, it sounds like I'm left with nothing."

Until April spoke, no one else gathered in the room had noticed her unannounced arrival. How long she had been outside the library door listening was anyone's guess. She clearly had changed her mind about going upstairs to dress since she stood in the doorway still wearing her nightgown and robe.

Monique leaped to her feet and hurried to her daughter. "You shouldn't be here," Monique said. "You should be upstairs resting."

"I don't need to rest," April protested. "I deserve to be part of this discussion. After all, it's my life, too. I need to know what's going on instead of the bunch of you talking about it behind my back. Besides, I already heard what he said. According to Paul's will everything goes to her." She nodded in Ali's direction. "It's so not fair. How can this be happening? It's like a nightmare or something. And where are all my friends? Who sent them away?"

"I did," Monique said. "And I'm sure others have called, but I sent them all to the answering service. And I posted a Do Not Disturb' sign out at the front door. I didn't want people bothering you at a time like this. And having too many people running around would just get in the way of the filming."

"But I need my friends," April returned. "I need the company more than I need the rest. You had no right to send my friends away."

All of which answered one of Ali's earlier questions as to the whereabouts of April's friends. And Ali noticed something else. Out on the terrace April had been grieving, but she had been a grieving grown-up. Now, with her mother in the room, April seemed to have reverted to some childhood script. She sounded even younger than she wasmore like a petulant, demanding teenager than an adult.

Ignoring her mother's advice, April made her way into the crowded room, where she sank into one of the swivel chairs. Pulling the gaping robe more tightly around her, she stared at Ali. "You were nice to me before," she said flatly, "but I guess this means things have changed. When do I have to leave, before the baby's born or after?"

"No one has said a word about your having to leave," Ali said. "And certainly not right now. With a baby due in a matter of days, you need to stay where you are until the lawyers can help us get things sorted out."

"How long does sorting-out take?" April asked. "And what's there to sort?"

Since Les Jordan had been effectively chairing the meeting, Ali looked at him for guidance.

He shrugged. "Uncomplicated estates can be settled in a matter of months," he said. "Complicated ones can take much longer than that, especially if other matters ariselike needing to liquidate property, for example. And there are always other legal issues that can cause indefinite delays."

He didn't spell out exactly what kind of "legal issues" he meant, but Ali had a pretty clear idea he was thinking about criminal proceedings. She guessed that everyone else in the room, with the possible exception of April herself, was making a similar assumption. Ali might be Paul's widow and the major beneficiary of his will, but she also knew that she wouldn't be allowed to inherit a dime as long as she was considered a suspect in his death. Until she was cleared, settling the estate would be stuck in neutraland accumulating legal fees like crazy.

"What about the funeral?" April asked.

"What about it?"

"I'm twenty-five years old," April said. "I don't know anything about planning funerals." I didn't either, Ali thought, but I figured it out.

"You don't need to worry about any of that," Monique told her daughter. "I'll handle it all."

"No, you won't," April said. Her reply was forceful enough that it took everyone by surprise, most especially her mother. "Since I wasn't Paul's wife and since I'm not his widow, it isn't my place to handle it. And it isn't yours, either."

April looked at Ali as she spoke. Monique, on the other hand, seemed utterly astonished by this small but dry-eyed and very determined rebellion. Monique was so surprised, in fact, that Ali wondered if there had ever been another instance in which April had drawn a line in the sand and told her mother no in such unequivocal terms. Before Monique had a chance to say anything more, Ali stepped into the breach.

"My first husband died of cancer when I was about your age," she told April. "My son was born two months after his father died, so I do know a little of what you're going through. Planning Dean's funeral was hard work, but I needed to do it. And you'll need to do it, too. Funerals are really for the living, but they're also a major part of the grieving process. I'll be glad to help you plan it, if you want me to."

"Wait a minute," Monique objected. "April is my daughter. You can't just come horning in like this"

"Mother," April said. "Stop." And then, to Ali she added, "Yes, I'd like you to help me. How long does planning a funeral take?"

"Not that long. Other than choosing a casket or an urn and deciding on cremation or not, you really can't do much until after the coroner releases the body. In the case of a homicide, that could take several days. Only after the body is released can you establish a time for the services, arrange for flowers, get the announcements into the paper, and all of that."

"I've never even been to a funeral," April said. "Where do people hold them? At a church somewhere? Here at the house?"

"Not at the house," Ali said quickly. "And Paul wasn't someone I'd call a churchgoing kind of guy. So maybe the funeral home would be best for the service itself with a catered reception here at the house afterward."