J. Jance - Trial By Fire

Maybe she knows more than she’s telling, Ali concluded.

For a time Ali sat there with her computer open on her lap and thought about what she was feeling. She was suspicious about Serenity, but there was nothing more to it than that-suspicion. There was no solid information Ali could pass along to either Sheriff Maxwell or Dave Holman. With Dave involved in a criminal trial, Ali was sure if she ran up the flag to the sheriff, he’d most likely pass her off to someone else-like Holly Mesina, for example.

What Ali needed was another kind of help. She punched in a text message to B.

Anyone available to do some discreet hacking today?

B.’s response was immediate:

Always. What’s up?

So was hers:

Not texting. I’ll call in a few minutes.

Again, only seconds passed before he responded:

Sounds serious.

Over in her chair, Serenity Langley was still sobbing. Closing the screen and leaving her computer where it was, Ali took her phone and walked down the hall to Sister Anselm’s favorite window. There, looking out on Camelback Mountain, Ali punched in B. Simpson’s number.

“What’s going on?” B. asked at once, sounding concerned. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ali said, “but there’s a woman at a hospital here in Phoenix who isn’t fine. Before I say anything to Sheriff Maxwell or Dave Holman about this, I’d like to know a little more about her. You know, get my ducks in a row and all that kind of thing.”

“I’m great at lining up ducks,” B. told her with a laugh. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Nothing illegal,” Ali said quickly. “Nothing that would require a search warrant, and no information that isn’t readily available in public records. It seems likely that you know a lot more about where to search than I do.”

“What?” he asked.

“Everything there is to know about Winston Langley Galleries.”

“With an S ?” B. returned. “As in ‘galleries,’ plural?”

“Yes. I’d also like to take a look at whatever you can find on Serenity Langley, Winston’s daughter,” Ali told him. “And also on Winston’s son, Winston Junior. The daughter lives in Phoenix. I believe the son is from Santa Barbara.”

“Anything else?” B. asked.

“Yes, I’d like to know what you can find out about a Russian guy named Yarnov who’s into art in a big way. I’d also like to know when the last time a Paul Klee painting went on sale, and what one would most likely be worth in today’s market.”

“I’ll send you the information as I get it,” B. said. “How soon do you need it?”

“The woman I told you about is dying,” Ali said urgently. “The sooner the better.”

By the time Ali returned to the waiting room, Serenity Langley had stopped crying. When her brother emerged from their mother’s room a few minutes later, Serenity had dried her tears, fixed her face, and opened her phone.

“I don’t know where the hell you are this morning, Donna. I’m tired of talking to your answering machine. Call me.”

“Mom’s asleep again,” Win announced, settling down on a chair next to his sister’s. “Hal punched the button on her morphine drip and she was out like a light. They have to give her smaller doses more often. Otherwise it’ll be too much for her system.”

“She looks awful!” Serenity declared. “I couldn’t stand it. Just looking at her made me sick to my stomach.”

It’s a good thing Hal Cooper isn’t so squeamish, Ali thought.

“Who do you think took the painting?” Win asked.

He was as concerned about his mother’s missing piece of artwork as his sister was.

“Let’s hope it’s someone who knows what it’s worth,” Serenity said. “If someone tries to put it on the market, we’ll know about it. No reputable art dealer is going to touch it.”

“What about the not-so-reputable ones?” Win asked.

Serenity shrugged. “Then it’s lost,” she said. “Except since it’s insured, Hal will still end up with the money, damn him.” She sent a dark look in the direction of room 814. “It was Daddy’s,” she said. “Hal Cooper is the last person in the world who should benefit from it.”

Win looked puzzled. “Maybe you’re wrong about him,” he ventured. “It looks like he really cares about her.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Serenity said. “Hal Cooper cares about money. The sooner she dies, the better off he’ll be, and the hospital bill will be that much lower. For all we know, he’s giving that button an extra shove every time he doses her.”

Behind her, Mark Levy had evidently heard enough. With an exaggerated sigh of disgust, he tossed a magazine onto an end table, where it landed with a resounding slap. “I need some air,” he announced to Ali on his way past. “Do you want anything from downstairs?”

“Nothing, thanks,” Ali said. “I’m fine.”

Mark punched the elevator button. When the door opened, Donna Carson, Serenity’s personal assistant, stepped past him into the waiting room.

“There you are,” Serenity said. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“I got your message,” Donna said. She nodded in Win’s direction and then took a seat next to Serenity. “How are you holding up?”

Saying nothing, Serenity shook her head.

“I stopped by the gallery on my way here and canceled those appointments. Do you want me to tell the managers that under the circumstances, we’ll be skipping this week’s gallery walk?”

“Good idea,” Serenity said. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right.”

Seeing the two women seated side by side, Ali noticed that their mannerisms were surprisingly similar. They spoke for several more minutes, with Serenity issuing orders and with Donna jotting them down in a leather-bound notebook.

Shortly after that Sister Anselm emerged from Mimi’s room. She looked weary beyond words. “Mr. Cooper will stay here for the time being, Ms. McCann,” Sister Anselm said. “I believe I’m going to return to the hotel for a nap. We’ll have another go at the interview a little later,” she added. “I’d also like to take a look at what you’ve written so far.”

Yes, Ali thought, Sister Anselm is very good at adjusting the truth.

On her way past, Sister Anselm stopped in front of Win and Serenity Langley. “Has anyone asked you to sign your mother’s visitor logbook?” she asked. “I like to keep them for the families of my patients.”

“We are her family,” Serenity replied pointedly. “We don’t need a notebook to tell us so.”

“Very well,” Sister Anselm said, walking away. “As you wish.”

“In all the time you’ve spent with her, has she said anything at all about who did this?” Serenity asked. “Does she remember anything at all?”

Sister Anselm looked at Serenity and shook her head. “My patients tell me things in strictest confidence,” she said.

With that, Sister Anselm left the waiting room. A few minutes later, so did Donna. Once the room was empty, Ali expected Serenity and Win would go right on talking. Instead, Win slouched down in his chair and dozed off. Since he had probably spent most of the night driving from Santa Barbara to Phoenix, that was hardly surprising. With Serenity busy sending off a series of text messages, Ali was startled when her own phone rang.

“Leland here,” Brooks announced, although Ali had surmised as much by looking at her phone. “Do you have any idea when you’ll be returning? I’m going out to buy groceries and was wondering if you’d be home this weekend, and whether you were expecting any company.”

“I can’t say,” she said. “I really don’t have an answer about that.”