TRIAL BY FIRE (23 page)

Ali’s phone buzzed. A glance at the readout told her Dave was calling. “Mom,” she said, “I have to go. I’ve got another call.”

She switched over to the other line. “Hey, Dave.” She had yet to open her briefcase, so she picked it up and carried it down the hallway so they could speak in relative privacy.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Back at the hospital. I got here just a few minutes ago.”

“How’s it going?”

“Quiet so far,” Ali said. “Sister Anselm’s still in Mimi’s room. So is Hal Cooper.”

“What about Mimi’s kids?” Dave asked. “Have either of them showed up?”

“Reportedly yes,” Ali replied. “Both of them. I haven’t seen them or spoken to them. I was told they’re down at breakfast. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m still here in Phoenix,” he said. “I stayed at a Best Western, but I’m an employee rather than a consultant.”

Ali ignored the dig. “How did the interview go?”

“With Hal? All right. When he started talking about Maggie, I thought at first she might be a girlfriend. Turns out she’s a cockapoo. He had left her with a neighbor, but when I took him by the crime scene so he could pick up some clothes, he picked the dog up, as well. They’re at the Ritz, too, since that’s the hotel nearest the hospital.”

“What did you think about him?” Ali asked.

“About him staying at the Ritz?”

“No, about whether he did this.”

“He fielded questions from several of us all at once, and his story never wavered,” Dave said. “He also provided plenty of documentation. The marshals are checking into those, and so far they all check out.

“Oh,” Dave added, “I thought you’d want to know that we’ve located Mimi Cooper’s car, or rather the highway patrol did. Her Infiniti was parked in a vacant lot just outside Gilbert with a
For Sale
sign plastered on the front window. It’s been there for at least twenty-four hours, stuck in among several other for-sale-by-owner vehicles.”

“That would mean that if Hal was involved, he’d need to have at least two accomplices,” Ali said. “One to drop off the vehicle, and another one to pick up the driver.”

“That’s how it looks,” Dave agreed. “Someone saw the Infiniti sitting there and wanted to buy it. He called the phone number listed for the seller. When that turned out to be a nonworking number, the guy got suspicious and called the cops. When someone finally got around to running the plates, they traced it to Mimi Cooper. The highway patrol towed the vehicle to their crime-lab impound lot. Once they saw what was inside the trunk, they notified the ATF. As of now the ATF guys are all over it.”

“Have they found anything?” Ali asked.

“Plenty,” Dave answered. “Naturally Donnelley is trying to keep a tight lid on the flow of information, but one of the guys who works at the lab is a good buddy of mine. He told me they found three empty gas cans, along with a partially used roll of duct tape and some women’s clothing—a bright blue pantsuit, a bra, a pair of panties, and a pair of gold sandals.”

“Sounds like pretty much the full-meal deal as far as Mimi’s clothing is concerned,” Ali said.

“That’s right,” Dave agreed. “It’s also my understanding that someone from the ATF may be dropping by the hospital sometime this morning. They’re hoping Hal Cooper will be able to identify the clothing as belonging to his wife.”

Ali remembered that Hal had told him Mimi had two rings—her wedding ring and her no-wedding ring.

“Did they mention finding any jewelry in the car?” she asked.

“Nope,” Dave answered. “No sign of that, at least not so far. I’m sure the crime lab is going over it inch by inch, looking for prints and any other trace evidence. Donnelley is still determined this all leads back to ELF. I happen to think he’s nuts, but that’s just me. As it turns out, however, it’s no longer any of my concern. For right now, I’m off the case. Sheriff Maxwell just called. With the ATF taking the lead on the investigation, he wants me back in Prescott, pronto. I have a court appearance scheduled for this afternoon on another case. The county attorney was going to ask for a continuance. Now he doesn’t need to. I’m on my way there instead.”

“Did Sheriff Maxwell say anything about wanting me back home as well?” Ali asked.

“Not to me,” Dave answered. “I think he’s still hoping you’ll be able to keep an eye on whatever the ATF is up to down here. He remains convinced that Donnelley and his people won’t be sharing any more information with us than is absolutely necessary.”

Great,
Ali thought.
Now I’m working undercover for both Sister Anselm and Sheriff Maxwell.

In a sudden flurry of activity, two people—a man and a woman—stepped off the elevator. The woman, a tall, willowy brunette, was complaining loudly to someone on her cell
phone. The close family resemblance suggested that the man was her brother.

“I’ve been here for hours,” she said. “My poor brother drove all night to get here, but we have yet to be allowed inside the room. Hal is in there, and so is that busybody nurse or nun or whatever. The two of them come and go as they wish, but we can’t? It’s a pile of crap!”

“I believe Mimi’s son and daughter just got off the elevator,” Ali said. “I should go.”

“Don’t speak to them,” Dave advised. “Do the same thing you did yesterday. If you sit there with your computer on your lap, you’ll disappear into the woodwork. No one will know you’re there. In the meantime, I’m on my way north, but after hearing Hal’s description of Mimi’s two offspring, I’ll be interested in knowing what they have to say for themselves. Let me know if they mention anything about Mimi’s missing painting. I’ve been told it’s plug ugly, but it’s also worth a ton of money. It’s by someone named Klee. That’s spelled
K-L-E-E,
but it’s evidently pronounced like
C-L-A-Y
. I’ve never heard of the guy. Have you?”

Ali was stunned. “Do you mean Paul Klee?” she asked.

“Right. That’s the one.”

“Mimi Cooper had an original Paul Klee hanging over her fireplace in a house that didn’t have so much as a burglar alarm?”

“Oh, they had an alarm, all right,” Dave said, “but according to Hal, Maggie kept tripping the motion detector and triggering false alarms. They figured that since they had the dog, they didn’t need to turn on the alarm when they were home.”

“Wrong,” Ali said.

“Yes,” Dave agreed. “They’re not the only people to make that mistake.”

“Tell me about the painting,” Ali said.

“Winston, Mimi’s first husband, evidently gave her the painting as an anniversary present. I’m not sure how he came to have it. He said that holding on to the painting was like money in the bank, and much better than a savings account since it would grow with inflation.

“When Mimi was getting ready to divorce him, though, Winston wanted the painting to be included in their community property settlement. Had the divorce become final, Mimi might have lost it. From a financial point of view, Winston Langley did her a huge favor by dying first. Sound familiar?”

It was all too familiar. “Don’t remind me,” she said.

“Sorry,” Dave said. “Back to the painting. Hal says it looks like a paper mat little kids make sometimes by weaving strips of paper together, only this one is done with paint. Hal Cooper doesn’t like it much. He claims it’s nothing but a bunch of colored squares.”

“That fits,” Ali said, trying to remember what she had learned in her long-ago humanities class. “I believe Klee was a cubist, among other things. From Switzerland originally. I think he died sometime around the beginning of World War Two.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” Dave asked.

“I’m a liberal arts major, remember,” she returned with a laugh. “My head is full of all kinds of useless information—cotton, hay, and rags, as Lerner and Lowe would say. Which reminds me, what made you come up with that phony art history class story yesterday? It was brilliant.”

“The marine corps isn’t long on art history,” Dave replied. “I’ve always thought about taking a class in it. I just never got around to it.”

The sound of raised voices near the nurses’ station caught
Ali’s attention. “Something’s going on down the hall,” she told him. “I need to go and assume the position.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “Talk to you later.”

Ali closed her phone and went back down the hall. While she’d been speaking to Dave, Agent Robson had arrived and had planted himself in front of the counter, where he was arguing with the charge nurse and the ward clerk. Unobserved by either of them, Ali quietly took a seat.

“If I can’t see Mimi Cooper, then I want to talk with her husband, or with that other woman,” Robson declared. “You know the one I mean, the woman who was here yesterday. She’s a nun or a nurse, I’m not sure which.”

“That would be Sister Anselm. She’s Ms. Cooper’s patient advocate.”

“Call her, then,” Robson ordered. “Tell her Agent Gary Robson with the ATF needs to see her. Immediately.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” the charge nurse said.

It was the same nurse who had dealt with Robson the day before. If he recognized her, he gave no sign of it, but Ali was sure the charge nurse knew exactly who he was, and she also had his number. Her “sorry” didn’t sound sorry at all.

“You’ll have to wait until Sister Anselm comes out,” the nurse said. “We’ve been advised that we’re not to put through any calls at this time.”

Sister Anselm hadn’t responded to Ali’s earlier text message, but she was sure it had gone through.

“I really must speak to her,” Robson insisted.

Ali opened her phone and sent a second message.

Robson’s here. In w8ing rm. Wants to see you. Mimi’s kids r here, 2.

This time Sister Anselm’s response was immediate.

Thanks. B rt there.

Ali opened her briefcase and booted up her computer. It turned out she had forgotten to charge the battery the night before. When she pulled out a power cord and started looking around for an electrical outlet, James’s friend came to her rescue. Taking the plug end of the cord from her, he moved a chair aside and plugged it into a wall socket.

“Thank you,” Ali said. “What’s your name?”

“Mark,” he said. “Mark Levy. James is my best friend.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Ali said.

Mark ducked his head self-consciously when she said the words. Ali suspected he was hiding a tear, but a moment later he squared his shoulders and faced her again.

“I’m going down to get something from the cafeteria. Do you want anything?”

“I’d love some coffee.”

Ali fumbled a five-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to him.

“Cream and sugar?”

“No. Black.”

By the time the elevator door opened, Robson had given up arguing with the nurse. He had taken a seat and was reaching for his cell phone when the brunette approached him with her hand outstretched.

“I’m Serenity Langley,” she said. “This is my brother, Win, short for Winston Junior. Mimi Cooper is our mother. We’ve been here for hours. My mother’s husband and that Sister Anselm won’t let us into Mother’s room, either.”

A frown of annoyance had flashed across Robson’s face at the idea of being interrupted. Once he realized who Serenity was, however, the frown was immediately replaced by a more appropriate expression. Standing to accept her proffered handshake, Robson left his phone and plucked an ID wallet out of his pocket.

“I’m Agent Gary Robson,” he said, displaying his badge to both of them. “I’m with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. Sorry to meet under such difficult circumstances, but our agency has been charged with investigating the incident in which your mother was injured.”

“It’s true, then?” Serenity asked.

“What’s true?”

“What they said in this morning’s paper—that you guys are investigating what happened to her instead of the local sheriff. The article claimed the fire is suspected of being some kind of domestic terrorism.”

Robson peered around the room. The charge nurse had disappeared from the nurses’ station. James’s father appeared to be sound asleep. Ali focused her eyes on her computer screen and began to type. For a time, the father’s quiet snoring and the clatter of Ali’s keyboard were the only sounds in the room.

Satisfied that no one was paying attention, Robson turned his attention to Serenity. “Yes,” he said. “That’s true, although you’ll understand I’m not at liberty to discuss details of an ongoing investigation with anyone.”

“Yes, of course.” Serenity nodded. “We understand.”

“Perhaps you could help by giving us some general information about your mother,” Robson said, withdrawing a small notebook from his jacket pocket. “As you can see, we’ve been unable to speak to her directly.”

“Win and I will do whatever we can to help,” Serenity said. “Tell us what you need.”

In the dream Mimi was young again, young and beautiful and living in California with Winston. They had just moved into a new house, a beautiful place overlooking Santa Barbara. Winston was so very proud of it. “I love it,” he said, “and I love you.”

The shock of hearing those words again, and hearing them from him, caused her eyes to pop open. Yes, he had said them once, but had he ever meant them?