J. Jance - Edge of Evil

“Sure,” Helga said. “No problem. What’s the address.”

Ali gave it to her. After ringing off, she sat for a long time, watching Samantha watch her. “Well, Sam,” she said at last, “it looks as though both our lives have changed. Before I was just talking about getting a divorce. Now I’m really doing it.”

Turning back to the computer, Ali looked for Helga’s e-mailed forms. Scanning her in-box she was surprised to find that several new e-mails had arrived in response to her last posting a short time earlier:

Dear Ms. Reynolds,

What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you like cats? Are you one of those people who only likes dogs? I was bitten by a dog once when I was little. I have NEVER been bitten by a cat.

Janelle

My mother had ALS. She told my father that she didn’t want to live that way. She asked him to fix it for her and he did. The judge sent him to prison for twenty years. He has never seen his grandchildren. I lost both of my parents. It is so unfair.

Phyllis

Dear Ali,

My husband had plenty of time for his girlfriend and his big screen TV and no time at all for me. When I left, I gathered up every clicker in the house and dropped them into his other baby, his 250 gallon aquarium. The clickers were still glowing like pretty little lavender goldfish when I left, but I bet they didn’t glow for long.

Tami

Wish I had thought of that, Ali told herself silently with a rueful smile.

Dear Ali,

Maybe everybody is calling it a suicide, but I bet the husband did it-that he killed her and only made it LOOK like suicide. I know. I have a sixth sense about these things. Please be very careful when you are around him. He could be a danger to you and the children.

Maxine

PS When the husband goes to jail for murder, will you take care of the kids and the cat? Somebody has to do it, and the grandparents are most likely too old.

That one sent a chill down Ali’s body. From the beginning, Ali had objected to the idea that Reenie had committed suicide. And an accident seemed unlikely. Who in their right mind would attempt to drive Schnebly Hill Road in the middle of a snowstorm? Ali had never consciously allowed herself to consider the logical alternative-homicide, but now she did. There was some part of her-some dark place she hadn’t ever encountered before-that knew Maxine was right-that Reenie Bernard had been murdered. But how? And was Howie responsible?

Possibly. Maybe he and his girlfriend weren’t interested in waiting around long enough for ALS to run its inevitable course. Or maybe there were insurance policies to take into consideration. Certainly there would be far more money left over for Reenie’s beneficiaries if her death came suddenly rather than as a result of a long debilitating illness complete with staggering hospital bills. And speaking of insurance, how much was there? And did it all go to Howie? Who else? And if Maxine was right, and Howie went to prison for murder, who would take care of the kids?

Ali reached into her pocket, pulled out a business card Bree Cowan had pressed into Ali’s hand earlier that morning, and called.

“Thank you so much for taking care of Sam,” Bree said as soon as Ali reached her on her cell. “From what my mother says, she and Dad wouldn’t have been able to pry Matt out of the house if you hadn’t come to the rescue.”

“Sam’s no trouble,” Ali said. And that was true. The cat had yet to set paw outside the open door of her cage.

“What can I do for you?” Bree asked.

Ali wasn’t sure where to start. “I was just wondering if you knew anything about Reenie’s insurance situation?”

“Life insurance?” Bree asked. “I know she has some, if that’s what you mean. Dad saw to it that we had life insurance, and our husbands, too. I heard Jack and Howie joking one time that as soon as they got home from the honeymoon, Dad set them up with his insurance guy.”

“Do you know how much insurance is in force?” Ali asked.

Bree paused. “Not exactly, but I’m guessing it’ll be fairly substantial amounts. I’m sure Howie and the kids will be well provided for, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

“What about guardianship?” Ali asked.

“There’s no question about that, of course,” Bree replied. “None at all. Matt and Julie go to their father.”

“And if something were to happen to Howie? Then what?”

“Then Matt and Julie come to Jack and me,” Bree said. “But let’s hope to God that never happens. I always suspected I wasn’t motherhood material, but this morning was proof positive. I almost lost it with Matt outside in the snow and Julie bawling her eyes out while I was trying to braid her hair. I know my limitations. It was awful.”

“You were fine,” Ali assured her. “There was a lot going on. The kids were upset.”

“Thanks for saying that.”

“What do you hear from Howie?” Ali asked.

“Nothing,” Bree said. “Why do you ask?”

“I went by this afternoon before I came back to Sedona, and he still wasn’t home. I was wondering how the interview went.”

“If I hear from him, should I have him call you?” Bree asked.

“No,” Ali said. “Don’t bother.” She started to hang up, then changed her mind. “One more thing,” she added. “What bank did Reenie use?”

“Bank?” Bree returned.

“Yes. I was talking to Andrea at the YW, and she mentioned that Reenie was planning on stopping by the bank on her way home from seeing the doctor. I was wondering if you happened to know which one she might have used.”

“Why?” Bree asked.

“I don’t know,” Ali said. “Maybe I’m way off base here. I just wanted to talk to someone who may have talked to Reenie after she saw the doctor. Just to know how she was, is all. Does that sound crazy?”

“No,” Bree said. “Not crazy. It sounds like someone who cares about what happened. I’m pretty sure they use Bank of America. That’s where we all ended up once the mergers finished. I have no idea which branch she would have used. There must be dozens of B of A branches between the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale and Flag. She could have stopped at any one of them. It won’t be any trouble for Howie to find out which one, though. All he’ll have to do is contact the toll-free number and ask about recent activity on his account.”

“Thanks, Bree,” Ali said. “I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”

If I don’t punch his lights out first.

By the time Ali got off the phone, Helga’s e-mail had arrived. Ali downloaded the forms, printed them, and began filling them out, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept being drawn back to the responses that had come in earlier.

She had written one thing and, within minutes, other people had replied, adding their own frame of reference or perspective to what Ali had written before. They wrote personal things. Private things. They wrote about feelings they might not have mentioned to their own family members. How come? What caused that?

Obviously what had happened in Reenie’s family was a tragedy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as unique as Ali would have hoped. The same was true of Ali’s own marital misfortunes. And the anonymity of the Internet, the very thing that made Ali free to say what she wanted, was also what gave her readers permission to send back their own private thoughts and comments.

It was, Ali thought, a bit like driving past a car wreck and being incredibly grateful that it had happened to someone else and not to you. Even though you tried to keep your eyes averted and give the unfortunate victims some privacy, you couldn’t help but peek and you couldn’t help but be grateful that it wasn’t your car wreck-it was somebody else’s. And maybe that gratitude was part of the reason people felt compelled to write.