J. Jance - Web of Evil

I was a journalism major in college. Then, during my senior year, I got engaged and realized that for me, marriage and kids and a career in journalism just wasn't going to work, so I switched over to elementary education. I've been teaching third grade in Escondido for the past fifteen years. It turns out that marriage and elementary education didn't work out very well, either, but how was I to know?

So here's the nervy part. Unlike you, I'm not famous, but I am a survivor. My husband ended up getting caught up in online gambling. We lost everything, including the house, our savings, and most of my retirement account as well. I'm divorced now. Slowly but surely I'm rebuilding my lifejust as you're rebuilding yours.

Sometimes one of the bloggers I read needs to take a break to go on vacation or to have a baby or even because there's some kind of health crisis. A lot of the time, they just put their blog on hiatus for a while and then go back to writing it when they're good and ready. Others invite guest bloggers to sit in and take over for them in the meantime. That way, regular readers don't get out of the habit of checking the site every day.

And that's why I'm writing to you todayto see if you'd like me to be your guest blogger for the next little whileuntil you're able to come back. Yes, I suppose I could just kick over the traces and start my own blog, but I've followed what you do on cutloose, and I'd really like to make a contribution and help you.

I'm assuming you can see from this that I'm not exactly illiterate. From reading your blogs, I know we share similar opinions on many issues, although you probably can't tell that from what I've written here. (I do have an unfair advantage, since, through reading your columns, I know you far better than you know me.)

You don't have to answer right now. In fact, you don't have to answer at all, but if you'd like to have me do a couple of sample blog postings for you, I'd be glad to audition. Let me know.

ADELE RICHARDSON, AKA LEDA

Ali was touched by Adele's offer. She was also provoked by it. Based on Victor's advice, she had announced she was putting cutloose aside for the time being, and Adele was responding to that in a kind and supportive fashion. But included in that kindness was an implicit agreement with Victor's take on thingsthat Ali Reynolds needed to sit down and shut up. This morning that didn't seem likely.

Dear Adele/Leda,

Thank you for your kind offer. I've been rethinking my position. In the past I've used cutloose as a way of responding to and dealing with events that were going on in my life at the time. As you so correctly pointed out, the legal ramifications occurring in my life right now make that difficult since there are things happeningthe things that are most important to methat I won't be able to discuss. But I don't think I can walk away from cutloose entirely.

From your note, I see you have an interesting perspective about having had your life blow up and figuring out a way to move on afterward. And that's the whole point of cutlooseblog.comto support women who find themselves in those difficult circumstances. So do send me your comments, and I'll be glad to post them, but for right now, cutloose is back in business, and I'd better go to work.

BABE

About then room service showed up. Edie let the waiter and his serving cart into the room. "Shall I see if April's ready for breakfast?" Edie asked.

Ali had ordered a fruit plate along with a basket of pastries. "I'm sure there'll be plenty," she said.

Edie bustled off down the hall. She returned a few minutes later with a puffy-eyed April in tow. Her hair was in disarray, and she was wrapped in a terry-cloth robe that once again didn't quite cover her middle. The faint odor of cigarette smoke entered the room when April did.

"Thanks for waking me," she said, helping herself to a coffee cup and a plate of pastries. "The baby was jumping around all night. I hardly got any sleep at all, but now I'm starving."

April had been starving the day before, too. Ali remembered how, while she was pregnant with Chris, she'd also been hungry all the time. "Help yourself," she said.

Settling into the room's only armchair, April set her coffee on a nearby end table and perched a loaded plate on her belly. "The cops said I won't be able to go back to the house until they're done with it," she announced, buttering a blueberry muffin. "They say it's a crime scene. I thought Mom just fell down the stairs, but they're thinking she was pushed."

Ali simply nodded.

"One of my friends, Cindy, runs a shop called Motherhood in Bloom," April continued. "I thought I'd call her later this morning to see if she can bring some stuff by hereunderwear, bras, and some new maternity clothes. I've got to have something to wear. And what about colors? I don't have anything in black. Or should I wear navy? Would that be better?"

Ali and her mother exchanged glances. As far as Ali was concerned, April's preoccupation with her wardrobe seemed very cold-blooded. Edie was the one who answered. "For the services, you mean?" she asked.

April nodded. "And for interviews, too," she said. "Last night at the hospital I happened to run into someone named Sheila Rosenburg. She wants to set up an interview with me."

Happened to run into her? Ali thought. That was no accident. "An interview for Court TV?" she asked.

April nodded again. "You know Sheila then?"

Ali had flat-out refused Sheila Rosenburg's offer of an interview, and she hoped April would do the same, but it wasn't Ali's place to tell her so. It's April's decision, not mine, she reminded herself.

"I know of Sheila Rosenburg," Ali answered aloud, "but I don't know her personally. I'm concerned that she'll try to turn your mother's death and Paul's into some kind of media circus."

April seemed unconcerned. "Some people pay for interviews," April replied, reaching for another pastry. "And she said she knew of an author who might be able to get me a book contractyou know, so I can write about all this while it's going on, sort of like a diary or a journal. She said people are really interested in true crime. It might even end up being a bestseller. I wouldn't have to do the actual writing, either, since I'm not that good at it. My name would be on the cover of the book, but the publisher would hire somebody else to do that part of it, a ghostwriter, she called it."

Ali was appalled. Shocked and appalled, but her mother was the one who spoke up.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Edie asked. "I know this is all happening to you, April, but it's also happening to your baby. It's going to be part of Sonia Marie's history, too. Do you want to bring a child into the world with that kind of notoriety?"

It's also happening to me, Ali thought, but there didn't seem to be any point in mentioning it. April was totally absorbed in her own concerns.

"Maybe not," April agreed, "but I think I'm going to need the money."

"Surely we'll be able to work something out so you won't have to lay all our lives bare for the world to see," Ali said.

"I hope so," April said. She stood up. "I'd better go make that call. Those detectives said they'd be by to see me later this morning, too. I'd like to have some clean clothes to wear before they get here."

April went out and closed the door behind her.

"Whoa!" Edie Larson said. "That girl is a lot tougher than she looks."

Ali nodded. "Maybe she's a chip off her mother's block."

"And smoking while she's pregnant?" Edie shook her head.

At that juncture Edie's cell phone rang with a call from Bob Larson back in Sedona. While Edie brought her husband up to date, Ali's phone rang, too. It was Chris.