J. Jance - Cruel Intent

Leland returned from his trailer, poured Ali a cup of coffee, and handed it over. “Will you require anything else, madam?” he asked formally, nodding imperceptibly in Jacky’s direction.

Ali smiled at him. “We’re fine for now, Mr. Brooks,” she said.

As Leland headed back to his fifth wheel, Jacky watched him go with mouthwatering intensity. “Such a lovely man,” he said admiringly.

“Knock it off, Jacky,” Ali ordered. “I already told you Mr. Brooks is not available. He’s fully employed. He’s also taken.”

“Spoilsport,” Jacky said.

Ali was tired of small talk. “I’m pretty busy at the moment,” she told him. “What is it you want?”

“Don’t be so cross,” Jacky purred. “I’ve got this wonderful, wonderful opportunity for you, something you’d be utterly perfect for. And you know me. I never discuss important negotiations over the phone. I’m a face-to-face, belly-to-belly kind of guy. So that’s why I’m here: to offer you a golden opportunity to go back to work doing what you love-to get you back where you belong, in front of a television camera. Fortunately, the project is being put together by some very talented people who happen to have enough money at their disposal to do things right.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Ali said. “What project do you have in mind?”

“All right, so maybe it’s a bit of a knockoff-a second-generation America’s Most Wanted, if you will, but do you know how long that program has been on the air? Besides, as they say, imitation is the highest form of flattery. You’ve built up a bit of a crimefighting reputation since you’ve been off the air. It seems to me this would be a great fit.”

“What are you asking me to do?” Ali asked. “Host it?”

“Oh, no,” Jacky said too quickly. “Nothing like that. They’ve already lined up a man-type to do the actual hosting job. They want you to be one of their personalities-one of the team of on-air folks and producers who go around the country and pull together various independent segments. You’d have a lot of autonomy, Ali. You’d be able to call your own shots.”

Unfortunately, Ali was able to read between the lines. She understood what Jacky wasn’t saying as much as what he was. No doubt one of his other clients-a male big-name client-was being tapped for the host job. What Jacky was doing was pulling in people to fill out the rest of the package.

“I’m calling my own shots now,” she said. “I’m not interested.”

“But you’re not working,” Jacky insisted. “Come on. Let me at least show you the proposal and bring you into the picture as far as the dollars are concerned. This is a good deal, Ali, darling. A very good deal, and despite the fact that you’ve been out of the loop and really need to make a comeback, they’re still willing to pay some real money.”

“Who says I need to make a comeback?” Ali returned abruptly. “And I don’t care that much about the money. I don’t need more money.”

In Jacky’s world, everyone wanted more money. The idea that Ali didn’t left him stunned. The lingering silence between them was broken by the ringing of Ali’s cell phone. A glance at caller ID told Ali her mother was on the phone. Oddly enough for that time of day, Edie Larson was calling from home rather than the restaurant.

Ali felt a moment of panic. Is Mom sick? she wondered. Or has something happened to Dad?

“This is a good deal, Ali,” Jacky went on as though he hadn’t heard her. “Surely you wouldn’t just turn your back on it.”

But Ali’s attention was focused on her phone. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “I’ve got to take this.” She got up and walked far enough away to be out of earshot before she answered. “Hello, Mom,” she said. “What’s up? Are you all right?”

“I just had a call from Chris,” Edie said. “And it’s all so upsetting. He lit into me something terrible. He’s never spoken to me like that before, Ali. Not ever. He made it sound like the baking I did yesterday was some kind of criminal offense. I was trying to help out. I wanted to make their engagement party a special occasion. How could it go so wrong?”

There was an odd sound. It took Ali a moment to realize that her mother was actually snuffling into the phone. From what she was saying, Chris had taken Ali at her word and tackled his grandmother on the subject of wedding planning. Ali remembered mentioning to Chris that he should try to be diplomatic. Evidently, that part of the message hadn’t gotten through.

“Mom,” Ali said, “are you crying?”

“Well, maybe a little,” Edie admitted. “I’m so upset, though, that I can’t help it. Your father sent me home. He said he didn’t want me making a fool of myself in front of all the customers. He’s right about that, of course. Fortunately, the restaurant isn’t busy, and Jan is holding down the fort.”

Jan Howard was the Sugarloaf Café’s long-term waitress. She and Edie handled the front of the house while Bob Larson handled most of the kitchen chores.

“Hold on,” Ali said to her mother. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

For someone wanting to dodge Jacky Jackson, Edie’s call was heaven-sent. “Sorry,” Ali said, turning back to Jacky. “Family emergency. I’ve got to go.”

“But-” Jacky began.

Ali didn’t give him a chance to finish. “It’s my mother. I’ll catch you later.”

Before he could build up to full-whine mode, Ali walked briskly away. She got into the Cayenne and drove down the hill. She went straight to the Sugarloaf and parked next door to the little house at the rear of the building where her parents had lived for most of their married life. Ali found her mother in the living room, plopped in the recliner usually reserved for her husband. A trash basket full of sodden tissues sat on the floor next to her.

“Just tell me,” Edie demanded tearfully as Ali entered the room. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

Honesty’s the best policy, Ali told herself. “You did too much,” she said.

“Too much,” Edie echoed. “All I did was bake a few things…”

“You baked more than a few things,” Ali corrected. “I’ve seen whole bakeries with fewer pies and cakes. Chris and Athena wanted a small party. You turned it into a big party. They wanted to keep it simple and do it themselves. From their point of view, you took over. You made their party your party.”

“But Chris is my grandson,” Edie objected. “Why wouldn’t I want to make it special?”

“You have to remember that Chris is only half of this equation,” Ali told her. “The other is Athena. She’s been married once before, and it didn’t turn out very well for her. I can understand why she might be feeling a little glitchy about doing this the second time around.”

“And then there’s her physical situation,” Edie suggested. “That might be a factor.”

“No,” Ali corrected firmly. “I think you’re wrong there, Mom. I don’t believe Athena’s missing arm and leg have anything to do with it. But if they do, so what? She’s a grown-up. She went to war and served our country. She’s paid a hell of a price for wanting to do things her way-not your way or Dad’s way or my way, but her way. Athena’s way. She and Chris get to conduct themselves the way they want to.”

“But still-”

“No,” Ali said. “No buts. I could have raised a fuss when I found out that Chris went to you and Dad about the engagement ring instead of coming to me. But I didn’t. It was Chris’s decision. This is the same thing, Mom. He and Athena are a couple. We’ve got to let them live their own lives.”

“So I suppose you’re going to light in to me, too?” Edie asked. “Is that why you’re here?”