J. Jance - Web of Evil

"Do you know of any others or how we could contact them?"

"I never met her father," Ali said. "And as far as I know, April is an only child. She used to have a stepbrother, but not anymore. Why?"

"But you and she are good friends?"

"Yes," Ali said at once, carefully avoiding meeting Dave's eye as she said so. "Why?"

"Because," Audrey Barker said kindly, "I'm afraid I have some very bad news."

CUTLOOSEBLOG.COM

Monday, September 19, 2005

First of all, my mother is safe. She was found a few hours after I posted that last message. She was slightly hurt in the process but not enough that she required either treatment or hospitalization. Thanks so much to those of you who wrote to express your concern.

This has been a dreadful week. My husband is dead. So is his girlfriend and so is their unborn baby. My husband was found murdered late last week and I remain a "person of interest" in that homicide. April Gaddis, his girlfriend and the mother of his unborn child, committed suicide after being admitted to the maternity ward of Cedars-Sinai Hospital. I'm able to report her name here because April's next of kin, her long-estranged father, has now been located and notified.

Overwhelmed by events, April suffered some kind of breakdown. In the process she not only murdered her own mother, she ended up holding two other people at gunpoint. My mother was one of the two. I was the other. When officers finally arrived at the second scene, April was taken into custody and transported by ambulance to the hospital after convincing EMTs she was about to give birth. Once there, she went into the bathroom of her hospital room, supposedly to change clothes. Instead, she somehow managed to hang herself.

During my years in the news business, I remember using the words "senseless violence" on occasion. And the words apply here as well. A whole family has been wiped outone that would have been my husband's second family. Four people are dead, including a baby who never had a chance to draw her first breath and a grandmother who never saw her granddaughter's face.

In the process, my own life has been threatened. So has my mother's. I've also been accused of murder. In the course of all the turmoil, things became so complicated that I was told to avoid blogging entirely for fear I might end up saying something in my commentary that would be considered self-incriminating. (As you can see by this post, I'm not always good about taking advice from attorneyseven when I'm paying them big bucks to give me that selfsame advice.)

Putting all that together, you can probably understand that when I came dragging back to my hotel this morning at a little past four, I was feeling more than a little shattered, to say nothing of exhausted. To top it all off, my faith in the human race was pretty much obliterated. My mother, who had been missing, had been found safe, but I was too tired to count that as a blessing right then. She had been endangered for no other reason than she is my mother, who had come to L.A. to help me with my mounting difficulties. I believe this can be filed under the heading of "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

In other words, everything that had happened had been more than I could handleand then some. So once I finally made it back to my hotel and dropped my car off with the valet, I staggered into the lobby intent on going straight up to my room to go to sleep. Halfway across the lobby I was waylaid and greeted by name by someone I knew but had never met in person.

She was an older lady with bright blue eyes and a halo of thinning snow-white hair. She was sitting on a couch just inside the entrance. Parked next to her was a walker that sported red, white, and blue tennis balls and a tiny American flag. She stood up the moment she saw me. "There you are, Babe," she said. "How's your mom?"

Those of you who have been following cutloose for some time will recognize the name Velma T of Laguna. She had read my previous post, the one that said my mother was missing. She was so concerned about what was going on that she ended up doing some detective work of her own. She figured out where I must be staying, and came herein a cab!!!! When I told her my mother was safe, she simply smiled and nodded. "I know," she said. "I've been praying for her all night."

I offered to give Velma T a ride back home, but she turned me down. "You look tired, honey," she said. "You'd better get some sleep. I got here under my own steam, and I'll get home the same way."

And so, with my faith in humanity restored by an eighty-eight-year-old bundle of goodwill, I came up here to my room, stripped off my clothes, and slept like a baby. Without moving a muscle. When I woke up late this morning and logged on to my computer, there were 87 messages in my in-box, almost all of them expressing concern for my mother. (Please pardon me if I don't respond to all of them.) A few of the ones from this morning were from people who had already learned from some other source that my mother had been found. I guess by now I should be accustomed to the amazing immediacy of the Internet community, but I'm still learning. And I'm still grateful.

I have no idea when bodies will be released for burial or to whom, so I have no idea how long it will take for funeral arrangements to be made. As a consequence, I have no idea how much longer I'll be in the area. But believe me, I'm more than ready to go back home to Arizona. Sedona is sounding pretty inviting to me about now.

Posted 11:43 A .M., September 19, 2005 by Babe

Ali had made arrangements to have brunch in the hotel dining room with her parents and Chris. To get there, she had to make her way through the lobby. Once again there was a gaggle of camera-and microphone-wielding reporters waiting for her.

"Ms. Reynolds, Ms. Reynolds," one of them shouted as Ali exited the elevator. "Are you all right? Is your mother okay?"

Ali started to walk past without answering, but then, remembering they were only doing their jobs, she relented and decided to get it over with. She stopped and spoke directly into one of the cameras. "My mother is fine," she said. "So am I."

"At the time April Gaddis was holding you and your mother at gunpoint, did either of you suspect that she intended to commit suicide?" another reporter wanted to know.

"I did everything in my power to keep it from happening," Ali answered. "A troubled young woman died unnecessarily. So did her baby. This is a very unfortunate situation for all concerned, including April Gaddis's grieving family. I'd appreciate it if you'd all respect our privacy. I have no further comment. Neither does my mother."

"But"

"No buts," Ali replied firmly and walked away, leaving a flurry of unanswered questions echoing behind her. She was relieved when she finally made it into the dining room, where the others were already gathered and where her father was perusing the menu.

Edie took one look at her daughter's face and was immediately on the alert. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ali said. "Just that bunch of reporters outside."

Edie nodded. "Such pushy people," she said. "You didn't used to be like them, did you?"

"I hope not," Ali said, "but I probably was."

She sat down next to her father, who was still engrossed in the menu. "The prices here are higher than a cat's back," he announced. "This is highway robbery."

Bob's customary grousing was exactly what Ali needed right then. It took her mind off the reporters milling in the lobby.

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Ali said. "You're not paying."

"I don't care," her father returned. "It's the principle of the thing. The food better be top drawer, or I'm going to have a long chat with the manager."

As it turned out, the food was fine.

"So when can we go home?" Bob asked, settling in to mow his way through a plate of eggs Benedict that he pronounced almost as good as his.