J. Jance - Web of Evil

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"So," Officer Oliveras said to Ali. "We're given to understand that the house where this happened, the house on Robert Lane, actually belongs to you?"

"Supposedly," Ali said. "But all that's pretty much in a state of confusion right now. You see, my husband died the night before last. Because our divorce hadn't been finalized and because his will hadn't been changed, the house evidently comes to me."

"And Ms. Ragsdale is the mother of your ex-husband's intended bride."

"Yes," Ali said. "That's correct."

"And you know her?"

"We've met," Ali admitted. "Only this morning. We were at a meeting together there at the housea meeting with our several attorneys."

"Where you discussed this will situationwhere your husband left everything to you and nothing to Ms. Ragsdale's daughter, the mother of your husband's baby?"

"Yes," Ali said, although her answer was barely audible. It was difficult to speak when what she was hearing loud and clear in her head were Victor Angeleri's words: "What part of whatever you say' don't you understand?"

"Should I have an attorney with me when I'm answering these questions?" Ali asked.

Officer Oliveras's face darkened. "It's up to you," she said. "If you feel you need one, that's fine, but at this point, all we're trying to do is get a handle on who all was there at the house this morning and why."

"We gathered there for a reading of my husband's will," Ali answered after a pause. "I was there along with April Gaddis, my husband's fiancee; Ms. Ragsdale; and then four attorneys. No, wait. There were five attorneys actually, counting Ms. Ragsdale's."

Ali reeled off each of the several attorneys' names while Officer Oliveras took notes.

"You say this last one, Mr. Anderson, is Ms. Ragsdale's attorney?" Oliveras asked. "Why would she need one? Is she a beneficiary under the will?"

It didn't seem wise to mention the possibility of a postmortem divorce. That wasn't necessarily lying. "No," Ali said finally. "Mr. Anderson was there ostensibly to protect the rights of the unborn baby. My understanding is, however, that regardless of whether or not the baby is named in the will, she'll still benefit from it."

"The baby?" Oliveras asked.

Ali nodded.

"You already know the baby's a girl then?"

"Yes."

Officer Ramsey sighed and shook his head impatiently, as though all the marital back-and-forthing was boring him to tears.

"If you and Ms. Ragsdale met just this morning, it's fair to assume you didn't have any particular bone of contention with her?"

"No. None at all."

"Was anyone else there?"

Ali did her best to recall everyone elsethe cook; Jesus, the gardener; Tracy McLaughlin and the Sumo Sudoku people along with the accompanying film crew. Of those the only name she knew for sure was that of the interviewer, Sandy Quijada.

"All right now," Oliveras said. "Tell me again why was it you went back to the house this afternoon."

"April called and invited me over. Or rather, she called Ted Grantham's office and left a message asking me to come over and help her work on making funeral arrangements."

"For your ex-husband?"

"Yes."

"You must have a pretty cordial relationship with your husband's fiancee," Oliveras observed. "It seems to me she would have asked someone else for help with that kind of thingher mother, for example."

This was exactly what Dave had said when he had warned Ali to stay away. And, as he had predicted, things were indeed going to hell.

At that moment April herself came charging through the ER's automatic doors. Her eyes were wide, her skin deathly pale. Panting, she raced up to the receptionist, who, after only a few murmured words of conversation, immediately summoned the nurse who was still holding Monique's cell phone. With no more formalities than that, April was handed the phone and then ushered through the curtains and back into the treatment rooms.

Across the crowded waiting room another baby started to cry. An ambulance arrived, sirens blaring, and discharged a new gurney along with a new set of stricken relatives into the mix. But Ali paid almost no attention to any of that. She knew without having to be told that Monique Ragsdale's condition had to be grave at best. The only thing that rushed anyone past loyal ER gatekeepers was the reality that someone in one of the back rooms was hanging by a thread between life and death.

"I guess," Ali said vaguely. "She was probably just feeling overwhelmed. That was April, by the waythe woman they just took back into the treatment rooms."

Officer Oliveras exhibited no interest in April, however. She was still focused on Ali, until there was yet another flurry of activity near the front door. To Ali's immense relief, Victor Angeleri barged into the room and stopped just inside the door. With a graceful pivot that belied his size, he took in the entire room at a glance and then strode toward the corner where Ali was huddled with the two cops.

"What's going on here?" Victor Angeleri demanded.

Once again the accidental audience in the ER subsided into a spellbound silence.

"How did you get here?" Ali wanted to know. "Who called you?"

"That's immaterial. The point is, what's going on with these officers? What kinds of questions are they asking you, and did they read you your rights?"

"You're Ms. Reynolds's attorney, I assume?" Officer Ramsey inquired. The two men were about the same height, but Victor outweighed the younger man by a good third.

"Yes, I'm her attorney," Victor declared forcefully. "And until I have a chance to confer with my client, this discussion is over."

Somewhere a flash went off. Ali had no doubt that every word of the conversation was being recorded for posterityor, more likely, for the evening news.

Edie Larson and Dave Holman rushed through the ER doors and joined the mix. "Sorry it took us so long to get here," Edie said. "I just couldn't figure out how to make the GSP thingy work."

But seeing her mother's face answered at least one of Ali's questions. No doubt Edie Larson had been the one who called Victor Angeleri into the fray. Some other time, Ali might have reacted badly to this kind of parental interference. This time she was simply grateful.

April staggered through the curtains and reentered the waiting room. She seemed dazed and uncomprehending. Excusing herself, Ali hurried over to her. "Are you all right?"

"They're taking her to surgery," April managed. "The doctor said she hit her head. Her brain's swelling. If they can't relieve the pressure, she may die."

With that, April buried her head in Ali's shoulder and began to weep. "How can this be happening on top of everything else?" she sobbed. "I can't believe it!"

"This would be Ms. Gaddis then?" Officer Ramsey asked, sidling over to them.

Ali simply looked at him. "Yes," she said, "but as you can see, this is not the time to speak to her. What do you want to do, April? Go to the surgical floor waiting room? Go home? What?"

"The surgery will take hours," April managed. "I think I need to go home."

"You can't go home," Officer Ramsey interjected. "It's a crime scene."

"Crime scene?" April repeated. "My home is a crime scene? What are you talking about?"

"One of our forensics teams is going over it right now. We think it's possible that what happened to your mother is actually a case of attempted homicide."

"But they told me she fell," April objected.

"She may have been pushed. Until we complete our investigation, that house is off-limits and no one goes there."

"What am I going to do then?" April wailed. "Where do I go?"

"Call your hotel, Ali," Victor ordered, taking charge. "See if they have a room available where she can stay." Then he rounded on Officer Ramsey. "As far as asking questions of Ms. Gaddis? Right now that's off the table. She's in no condition to be interviewed by anyone. She's pregnant, her fiance has been murdered, and her mother is undergoing emergency surgery. If you ask her even one question, buddy-boy, I'll have you and your partner up on charges of police brutality so fast it'll make your head swim."

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