J. Jance - Web of Evil

"Mom won't be able to leave for a while," Ali told him. "The three of usMom, Dave, and Iare going to need to be available for the next several days while the investigation continues. And I still have to give my deposition for the wrongful dismissal suit."

"You don't need to hang around for any of that, Robert," Edie said. "Someone should be home minding the store. I don't like having the Sugar Loaf running on automatic with both of us out of town."

"You wouldn't mind if I went home?" Bob asked his wife. Then he turned to Ali. "And what about Paul's funeral? Won't you need me here for that?"

Ali was having a difficult time imagining how she was going to manage her estranged husband's funeral, but having to do it under the watchful eyes of both her parents would make it that much harder.

"You and Chris can go home, Dad," Ali told him. "Mom and I will be fine."

"I'm not going," Chris said. "Gramps and I already talked it over. I'll stay here for a couple more days and drive home with Grandma."

"Good," Edie said. "I'm glad that's settled, as long as you promise you won't drive the whole way without stopping to rest. You're not a spring chicken, you know, Bob."

During breakfast, Dave seemed far quieter than usual. At the cafe in Sedona, he and Bob teased each other constantly, but this morning Dave didn't participate in any of the hijinks. When Chris bugged out to go visit some friends and Bob and Edie went in search of the dessert buffet, Ali turned to Dave. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like being told to buzz off," Dave replied.

"Who told you that?" Ali asked.

"My good friend Easy. According to him, it's hands off at the Pink Swan. He says the DEA is involved in some kind of complicated, long-term investigation going on over there. That means the Feds will take a very dim view of anything that upsets their apple cart."

"But if they're investigating the place, isn't there a possibility that they might have surveillance records that would show exactly what happened the night Paul disappeared?" Ali asked.

"They might," Dave agreed. "But good luck laying hands on them. The Feds aren't going to lift a finger to help anyone, including LAPD homicide, if they're running an undercover operation and helping out would tip their hand prematurely."

"How can that be?" Ali objected. "Paul was murdered. It makes no sense that the DEA won't help us."

"That's where you're wrong," Dave told her grimly. "The Feds don't have to make sense."

By then Bob and Edie were returning to the table with their dessert plates piled high. When Helga Myerhoff called a few minutes later, Ali excused herself. Avoiding the hotel lobby, she ducked into the nearest restroom to take the call.

"I heard all about what happened from Victor," Helga said. "Thank God you and your mother are okay."

Ali couldn't help wondering if Victor would be charging Ali for calling Helga and if Helga would be charging Ali for taking the call. As far as Ali could see, in this game the only ones coming out ahead were the lawyers.

"Yes," Ali agreed. "Thank God."

"As far as Roseanne Maxwell is concerned, I've been asking around," Helga continued. "If there's a divorce in the offing at the Maxwell household, nobody I know has heard word one about it. And nobody knows where Roseanne's disappeared to, either. That includes her best friend, who hasn't had a call from her. She says Roseanne isn't answering her phone and that her voice mail message box is full."

To Ali's way of thinking and with everything else that had happened, this sounded ominous. Especially for Roseanne.

"Jake told us she was in New York shopping for clothes."

"That doesn't compute," Helga replied. "The friend I just told you aboutthe one who complained about not hearing from Roseanneis also the friend Roseanne usually does her NYC shopping junkets with. Since Jake hasn't done so, the friend is actually thinking of turning in a missing persons report."

"I hope she does," Ali said.

"Anything else you need from me right now?" Helga asked.

"You'll let me know if you hear anything?" Ali asked.

"Definitely."

Ali ended the call and returned to the dining room, where she discovered her father had managed to pay for brunch after all.

"Thanks, Dad," she told him.

"Thanks for letting me go home," he said. "L.A. isn't for me. It's too big, too crowded, and way too expensive."

"Too expensive is right," Edie agreed. "It doesn't make a bit of sense for us to be staying at a place like this at whatever king's ransom they charge per night when a perfectly good house is sitting empty just a few miles away."

"The house on Robert Lane is still considered a crime scene," Dave pointed out.

"But for how long?" Edie wanted to know. "With April dead and Ali and me both safe, I don't see why that's necessary."

"It's a crime scene until LAPD releases it," Dave told her. "The detectives need to determine exactly what happened to Monique Ragsdale and also what happened to you."

"But April told us what happened to her mother," Edie objected. "That's what I told that first detective who interviewed me this morning. I'm sure it's what Ali told them as well."

"The problem," Dave pointed out, "is that you happen to be Ali's mother. As far as the investigators are concerned, one or both of you could be lying to protect the other. And until there's some forensic evidence to back up the story that April is the one who pushed Monique down the stairs amp;"

"What about the scratches I saw on April's arms?" Edie asked. "Can't they be matched up with scrapings taken from underneath Monique's fingernails?"

"They probably can," Dave agreed. "But it's going to take time."

"And probably a dozen more interviews," Edie said. "I've done enough police interviews in the last couple of days that I'm sick and tired of them." She glanced at her watch. "How about if they did something else for a change instead of just sitting around asking the same questions over and over?"

That was Ali's opinion as well. From what she could tell, police work seemed to involve a whole lot more talking than it did anything else.

When brunch was over, Bob and Edie went up to their room to help Bob get ready to head out. Once they left, Dave stood up as well. "If you don't need anything from me," he said, "I may drive over to Havasu and see the kids for a while. They're off school for the afternoon."

"Go ahead," Ali told him. "I think you've earned a little time off."

Upstairs, Ali was relieved that she now had a room to herself. Much as she liked her mother, Ali had spent months becoming accustomed to being on her own. And she liked it.

Opening her computer, she stretched out on the couch and logged on. The first message in her in-box came from a familiar address:

Dear Babe,

I guess I'm not as young as I used to be. I just now woke up. Well, a little while ago, I suppose. Long enough that I've had a cup of coffee and turned on my computer.

It was such a thrill to meet you last nightthis morning really. Most people would have thought I was some kind of crazed stalker or something. Thank you for being so gracious to an old lady who happens to be a big fan of yours.

Knowing from you some of what went on yesterday, I wanted to check out what that jerk at socalcopshop had to say. Sure enough. He's at it again. Go ahead and read it, but it'll probably make you mad. I don't know what LMB's problem is.

LOVE,

VELMA T

Unable to resist, Ali turned to socalcopshop.com, and there it was.

ALISON REYNOLDS AND HER WEB OF EVIL

Alison Reynolds, the Black Widow of Robert Lane, continues to spin her evil web from her current base of operations, the posh Westwood Hotel. This time her victim is April Gaddis, the unfortunate young woman who was scheduled to marry Ms. Reynolds's estranged husband on Saturday afternoon.