J. Jance - Web of Evil

"You said you were going to tell me about Paul," Ali said.

Nodding, Roseanne took a deep breath. "I guess you know what it feels like to be cast aside," she said finally.

"I've met Amber, if that's what you mean," Ali said. She might have couched the comment a little more diplomatically. When Roseanne's eyes filled with tears, Ali was sorry she hadn't.

"She was at the house?" Roseanne asked. "At my house?"

Ali nodded.

"That didn't take long. I suppose I should have known she would be," Roseanne said. "There's a lot that goes over your head when you're screwed up on cocaine. I should have figured out what was happening, but by the time I noticed, it was too late. Amber already had her hooks in him."

Roseanne was right. For Ali Reynolds, the idea of an older wife being shoved aside in favor of a younger one was another all-too-familiar story.

"Amber was always there at the Pink Swan," Roseanne continued. "And why wouldn't she be? Her grandmother owns the place. It wasn't until I got in the program and started trying to straighten out my life that I could see what was what. It seemed to me that if I could just get rid of Amber, Jake and I might be all right. I mean, the two of us have a history together. Even if we lost everything else, I thought we'd at least have each other."

Why does she want him? Ali asked herself. What's to hang on to?

"But I didn't have nerve enough to go to the cops myself," Roseanne went on. "For one thing, I'm in it, too. So I blew the whistle to Paul instead. I told him everything I knew and everything I suspected about Jake and the others taking Paul for a ride."

"What happened?" Ali asked.

"At first I don't think Paul believed me, but he must have started looking into things on his own. Last Wednesday morning he called me and told me that maybe I was right about what was going on, but with everything coming up over the weekendwith both the divorce hearing and the weddinghe had decided not to do anything more about it until after he and April got back from their honeymoon.

"I begged him not to let anyone know I was the one who had told him," Roseanne continued. "He promised he wouldn't, but once I got off the phone with him, I got scared. I was afraid he might go to Jake instead. That's when I decided I needed to disappear. The next day, when Kimball was out getting groceries, I grabbed what I could from the house, then I took off and came here. When I heard Paul was dead, I knew I had been right. If I hadn't run away when I did, I'd be dead by now, too."

The waitress returned, more determined this time, with her order pad in hand. Neither Ali nor Roseanne had yet to glance at their menus.

"House salad," Ali said. "Ranch dressing and iced tea."

"I'll have the same," Roseanne said.

Clearly disappointed by their long delayed but paltry order, the waitress rolled her eyes and stomped off in the direction of the kitchen.

"But what makes you think your phone was tapped?" Ali asked, once the waitress was out of earshot.

"Paul's dead, isn't he?" Roseanne asked. "He didn't know anything about what was going on until I told him, and when I did, someone must have been listening in on my phone."

Or on Paul's, Ali thought. If Paul and Jake were partners, and if the authorities managed to get wiretapping warrants as a part of a drug-busting investigation, they'd have gotten warrants for the phones of all parties involved and perhaps even for their spouses' phones as well. At the time of Paul's death, Ali had still been his wife. Did that mean Ali's phone might have been tapped, too?

"That's why Paul's death is my fault," Roseanne continued as her eyes once more filled with tears. "If I hadn't told him what was going on, maybe he wouldn't be dead now."

"If the Pink Swan is a front for a major drug operation, I still think you should go to the cops," Ali said. "All of LAPD doesn't hang out around there. Surely there must be someone you could talk to?"

"But how am I supposed to know which ones are crooked and which ones aren't?" Roseanne returned. "As far as I can tell, they all are."

That's when Ali thought of Dave. He was, without a doubt, one of the world's straightest arrows.

"Look," Ali said. "I have a friend who's visiting right now, a cop from over in Arizona. He couldn't possibly be mixed up in any of this. Why don't you talk to him?"

"No," Roseanne said firmly. "No cops. Period. Why do you think they killed Paul? To let the rest of us know that even talking about going to the cops is a capital offense as far as they're concerned."

"What about talking to an attorney then?" Ali asked. "I know a top-drawer defense attorney. His name is Victor Angeleri. You're obviously involved in all this and you know what's really going on. Why don't you call him and let him see what kind of deal he could cut for you in terms of witness protection?"

"I don't believe in witness protection programs any more than I believe in the Tooth Fairy," Roseanne returned. "That wouldn't stop them. If they killed Paul, they'll find me and kill me, too. Even if I get sent to jail, they'll still come after me. That's why I'm hoping you'll help me out. I don't need a lot of money. I have a place down in Mexico where I can live cheaply for a very long time. I just need some cash to make it work."

Roseanne pushed the jewel-laden ziplock bag back in Ali's direction. It lay there on the tabletop between them for the better part of a minute. Then, when the waitress reappeared with their salads and iced teas, Roseanne snatched the bag off the table and stuffed it back into her purse and out of sight.

Once again they waited until the waitress had walked away from their table.

"If these people are so all-powerful and all-knowing, who are they? You may have your suspicions that they're responsible for what happened to Paul, but do you have any proof?"

"I just know it," Roseanne said fervently. "I know it in my bones."

"That's not good enough."

"By the time I get proof, I'll be dead, too," Roseanne said.

Ali had to admit that was a pretty telling argument. She decided to change tactics. "So these people are all tied in with the Pink Swan," she said. "Tell me about that."

"The bottom floor is just your basic topless joint with a bar and nude dancing, and all the rest of it. That one is open to the public. Upstairs is privatean upscale gentlemen's club they call it. That's where the real action isall kinds of action. You can go there and do whatever you want and nobody bothers you, especially no reporters. They don't come near the place."

"Who owns it?" Ali asked.

"A lady named Lucia Joaquin. At least, her name is the one on the liquor license. She's the widow of a major player in one of the Colombian drug cartels. Years ago when her husband was gunned down, she came here with her kids along with a ton of money, money she managed to invest in real estate all over L.A."

"Drug money?" Ali asked.

"I'm sure," Roseanne answered with a nod. "But just because she moved out of the country didn't mean she moved out of the drug business. She's kept her hand in the whole time she's been here. Her two sons may work for her, but even though she's been sick, Lucia is still the real brains behind the outfit. She's also the one who gave the Pink Swan its name. I've never met her, but I've been told she always wears pinkfrom head to toe."

"What about the sons?" Ali asked.

"Mario and Reynaldo," Roseanne replied. "They both went to school here in the States. One's an MBA type and the other's more of an engineer. Lucia's money comes rolling in from whatever source. The sons figure out ways to turn all that illicit cash into something more or less legitimate."

"Like Sumo Sudoku?" Ali asked.

Roseanne nodded. "Exactly."