J. Jance - Web of Evil

After repeating the Jag's plate information and leaving his cell phone number, Dave closed his phone with a grin. "Let's hear it for the California Highway Patrol," he said. "Considering the mood Jake's in at the moment, any interaction with cops should prove interesting to all concerned. In the meantime, let's go have a chat with Tracy McLaughlin."

"What about?" Ali asked.

"Let's start with your mother," Dave suggested. "Again, the one thing we need to establish is if he's lying to us or telling the truth. That means we ask him questions where we already know the answers."

"Like whether or not he spoke to my mother?"

"For starters," Dave said. "And you take the lead. Tracy's an ex-con, which means he probably thinks of himself as a cool macho dude. He's likely to underestimate you and say more than he should. Try to be conversational with him and get him to talk."

"You mean sort of like what I did for years when I was conducting television interviews?" Ali asked.

Dave looked chagrined. "I suppose so," he returned. "Something like that. Sorry."

They approached the RV with Dave staying in the background. As Ali mounted the steps and knocked, she noticed a hint of cigarette smoke lingering in the outside air. It reminded her of the smoke she had smelled in the hotel hallway the night before.

"Who is it?" an invisible voice demanded.

"Ali Reynolds," she replied. "I'm Paul Grayson's wife amp;his widow actually," she corrected. "We met yesterday morning before the Sumo Sudoku shoot. I was having coffee with April Gaddis out on the terrace at the house on Robert Lane."

After a few minutes, the door opened, allowing more secondhand smoke to spill outside. Tracy McLaughlin's hulking figure stood backlit in the doorway. He held the burning stub of a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.

"That's right," Tracy said. "I remember you now. What do you want?"

"I'm looking for my mother," Ali said at once.

"Your mother," he repeated belligerently. "Who the hell's your mother?"

It had not been Jake Maxwell's first scotch, and this was not Tracy McLaughlin's first beer.

"Let me give you a hint," Ali said. "Her name's Edie Larson. She's in her early sixties. Gray hair. Wears glasses and a hearing aid. She's gone missing."

"Name doesn't ring a bell," Tracy muttered. "There are lots of women like that. I'm afraid I don't know your mother from a hole in the ground."

"That's funny," Ali said. "I could have sworn I saw a hotel security surveillance tape where you were talking with her earlier this afternoonarguing with her, in fact. She seemed to be quite upset about something. The digital readout on the video shows that the confrontation happenedshortly before she disappeared."

Dave emerged from the shadows.

"Who are you?" Tracy demanded when Dave came into view.

"A friend of Edie's," Dave replied. "And we have reason to believe Edie had pegged you as possibly being the father of April Gaddis's baby."

"Well, she's wrong about that," Tracy McLaughlin declared. "Besides, it wasn't any of her business to begin with. I tried to tell that crazy old woman that she had it all wrong and to get off my case, but she wouldn't listen."

"So you're claiming you're not the father of April's baby after all?" Ali asked.

"I'm saying you're talking to the wrong person. You should be asking April about this, not me."

"But you're saying the baby might not be Paul's?"

"I didn't say that."

"What are you saying?"

"It's complicated."

"It's not complicated at all," Ali said firmly. "Either the baby is Paul's or she's not. And if she isn't, she won't be eligible to receive monies from his estate."

"So what does any of this have to do with me?"

"What it has to do with is fraud," Ali replied. "And with whether or not you're a co-conspirator."

"I don't know anything," Tracy insisted. "I haven't done anything."

"What about this afternoon?" Ali asked.

"What about it?"

"What happened after you saw my mother?"

"I left the hotel."

"Where did you go?"

"A couple of places," he said.

Dave moved closer. "Ms. Reynolds isn't a police officer," he said. "But I am. At this point you're not being charged with anything, Mr. McLaughlin, so it might be smart for you to cooperate. If you have an alibi for this afternoona verifiable alibiyou might want to give it to us before things get any more complicated."

"What do you want from me?"

"We want you to tell us about what you did this afternoon. All of it."

"Do I need an attorney?" Tracy asked.

"Not right now," Dave said. "That's what I told you a minute ago. At the moment, finding Ali's mother is our highest priority. Compared to that, everything else takes a backseat."

Tracy had tossed one cigarette butt aside. Now he paused long enough to light another smoke. "I knew April was going to be doing that Court TV interview," he said at last. "I wanted to see how it worked out. You see, that same woman has been in touch with me"

"Sheila Rosenburg?" Ali asked.

Tracy nodded. "She's been talking to all of April's friends. And that's what April and I arefriends."

What kind of friends? Ali wondered, although she thought she knew.

"Anyway," Tracy continued, "I wanted to see what the interview would be likeif the reporter would be on April's case and accusing her of something or otherbefore I agreed to do one myself. So I came into the lobby and was watching everything that was going on when that womanyour mothershowed up and started giving me a hard time and causing a scene. I left before anyone had a chance to call security."

"Why was that?" Ali asked.

"It just seemed like a good idea to get the hell out of there before there was any trouble. Besides, I didn't want to disrupt what April was doing."

"You still haven't told us where you went," Dave said. "We need names and addresses. We also need the names of any people who might have seen you there."

Tracy's reluctance to discuss the matter was obvious in the sullen way he sucked on his cigarette and said nothing.

"We've been told that you had a bad enough gambling habit that you had to sell your Sumo Sudoku idea to the highest bidder," Dave said. "Men can change, but they seldom do. So what's the story here, Tracy? Are you back in the game again? Did you spend the afternoon at a casino someplace? Or was it somewhere less obviouslike an illegal card room, maybe? And how deep are they into you again? In some circles, gambling on credit can be a very dangerous undertaking."

The look of surprise that flashed over Tracy's face made it clear Dave had nailed him. "Where's the card room?" Dave asked.

"Upstairs over a strip club on Santa Monica called the Pink Swan," Tracy answered. "I was there all afternoon. I got there about two, and then came directly here."

Ali remembered the name from newspaper accounts about Paul's death. She also remembered Helga's account of the health club called The Body Shop. She wondered if the Pink Swan was a step up or a step down.

"The Pink Swan," she mused. "Isn't that where Paul's bachelor party was held?"

Tracy nodded. "I believe so."

"You weren't at the bachelor party?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I wasn't invited," Tracy answered. "I mean, Paul and I had a business relationship but we weren't really buddies or anything."

"Especially since it sounds to me as if you used to screw around with his bride-to-be," Ali put in.

Tracy looked at her, but he didn't bother denying it.

"This Pink Swan place," Dave persisted. "Would they have you on this afternoon's surveillance tapes? Would we be able to see what time you arrived there and when you left?"

"That's the whole point of a place like the Pink Swan," Tracy said. "There are no surveillance tapes."