by Jance, J. A.
When Ali walked in the door, Sam, her impossibly ugly sixteen-pound, one-eared, one-eyed tabby cat, trotted to the door to greet her, complaining at the top of her lungs that she was starving. Since Chris’s Prius was already parked outside, Ali knew the cat was lying. For a time, her adopted kitty’s weight had mysteriously edged up. It was only when the vet complained about the weight gain that Ali discovered that Sam had routinely cadged two evening meals by pretending she hadn’t been fed. Once Ali and Chris had realized they were being suckered, they hatched the plan that whoever came home first fed Sam, no matter what the cat said to the contrary.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Ali told the noisy animal. Knowing full well the kitchen counter wasn’t Sam-proof, she stowed the casserole in the microwave and deposited the evening’s salads in the fridge. Then she headed into her room to shower and change clothes.
When she came out half an hour later, she was surprised to see that Chris had set the table—for three rather than two. The table was decked out in his mother’s good china, complete with crystal wineglasses. He had also heated the casserole and opened a bottle of Paul Grayson’s high-end wine—a Corton-Charlemagne from Côte d’Beaune.
“What’s the occasion?” Ali asked.
Chris shrugged. “I invited Athena to come to dinner,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”
When Ali had first heard about Athena Carlson, she had been a little dismayed. Athena was several years older than Chris and divorced. She was also a double amputee, having lost part of her right arm and most of her right leg, compliments of an exploding IED during a Minnesota National Guard deployment to Iraq.
Ali had always hoped her son would find the “perfect” girl. Initially Athena hadn’t quite squared with Ali’s idea of perfection. Over the months, though, Ali had come to see Athena really was perfect. Her midwestern small-town roots and rock-solid values provided just the right counterpoint to Chris’s artistic temperament and occasionally unrealistic enthusiasm. And Ali had nothing but respect for the way Athena focused on what she could do rather than on what she couldn’t. One of the things that fell in the “could” column was her ability to play a mean game of one-handed basketball.
“You should have called me,” Ali said. “If I had known we were having company, I would have picked up something a little nicer than enchilada casserole.”
“That’s all right,” Chris said. “Athena’s not picky.”
Ali knew that to be true, and as far as she was concerned, it was another mark in Athena’s favor.
The doorbell rang, and Chris hurried to answer it. Athena stepped into the house. Underneath a pair of slacks, her high-tech prosthetic leg was all but invisible. The complicated device on her right hand was more apparent. Smiling and laughing, she entered the room and kissed Chris hello. When the two of them turned to face Ali, Athena’s face was awash in happiness. Without a word, she held up her left hand, showing off a respectably sized diamond ring.
“He gave it to me last night,” Athena said as Ali stepped forward to admire it. “I didn’t wear it to school today. We wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Congratulations!” Ali exclaimed, giving first Athena and then her son a hug.
“You’re sort of the first to know,” Chris admitted. “It’s actually Aunt Evie’s diamond. Grandma gave it to me so I could have it reset. But Grandma and Grandpa haven’t seen it this way yet, and they don’t know I’ve given it to her. You really are the first.”
Ali couldn’t help feeling slightly provoked that her parents knew more about her son than she did. Some of the irritation must have shown on her face.
“You’re not upset about that, are you, Ali?” Athena asked warily.
Ali pulled herself together and laughed it off. “Not at all,” she managed. “My mother always seems to know exactly what’s going to happen long before anyone else does. I’m thrilled for you both.”
Chris and Athena exchanged relieved looks. Obviously, they had been concerned about how Ali might react.
Ali moved over to the table, picked up the wine bottle, and began to pour. “How about a toast to the newly engaged couple?” she said enthusiastically. “I think you both deserve it.”
Dinner was a lighthearted, fun affair. Athena, more radiant than Ali had ever seen her, was full of plans for the future. No, they hadn’t set a date yet. Most likely, they’d get married after school got out at the end of May, possibly early in June.
“A small wedding,” Athena said. “Maybe outside, with red rocks in the background and just family and a few friends in attendance. I already had the whole full-meal-deal church wedding with a white dress, half a dozen attendants, and a reception that cost my dad a bundle. Unfortunately, we all know how that one turned out.”
For the first time that evening, a shadow crossed Athena’s smiling face. Her husband had ditched her while she was in Walter Reed, recovering from her injuries. And since he and his second wife were now living in what had once been Athena’s hometown, Ali understood completely why Athena had no desire to go “back home” for a second wedding.
Ali thought about the gnarled wisteria that shaded the patio at the house on Manzanita Hills Road. In May the venerable old plant would most likely be dripping with clusters of lush lavender blossoms, something that would make a perfect backdrop for a wedding. But she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. After all, this was Athena and Chris’s wedding. As mother of the groom, Ali needed to keep her opinions to herself.
“Your folks won’t mind coming out?” she asked.
“My grandmother had never been on an airplane until she flew to D.C. to stay with me at Walter Reed.” Athena grinned. “If she could fly for that, she can certainly fly for this.”
“What about your parents?” Ali asked.
“My grandmother’s the only one I really care about,” Athena said.
Ali decided she was better off not asking anything more.
“We’re going to have a little get-together at the gym tomorrow night before the game, and we’d like you to come,” Chris put in quickly, diverting them from what was evidently dodgy territory. “About seven-thirty. We plan to go public with our engagement then. I’ll invite Grandpa and Grandma. Athena’s roommates will be there, along with the people in our basketball league.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ali assured them.
“It won’t be much of a party,” Athena said. “No champagne in the high school gym. We’ll be drinking Hawaiian Punch and eating storebought cookies.”
“I still wouldn’t miss it,” Ali said.
After dinner, when Athena left, Chris went out with her, ostensibly to walk her to the car. Ali knew that was bogus, of course. The process was likely to involve far more necking than it did walking and would last an hour or more. In the meantime, Ali cleared the table, put away the leftovers, and then hand-washed the china and crystal.
Standing with her hands and forearms plunged deep in soapy water, Ali recalled how she had chosen the Royal Limoges Beleme pattern at Paul Grayson’s behest right after the two of them had become engaged. She had loved the creamy color of the delicate bone china and the subtle, understated designs around the borders. Ali had imagined using those gorgeous dishes as she presided over a lifetime’s worth of joyous meals, complete with family and friends.
But the reality had been far different, more hell than heaven. The meals she had hosted with Paul, the ones where the dishes had been used, hadn’t turned out to be what Ali had hoped for or expected. Yes, Paul Grayson had loved entertaining and had done so lavishly, but there had been an element of one-upmanship in everything he did. Dinner guests were invited because of who they knew or what they had to offer in terms of deal making. Places at his table were generally assigned based on who could provide the best political advantage at work. For him love had counted far less than leverage.
On this occasion, an inexpensive and simple meal—reheated deli food—had been served to guests in a mobile home that
had once belonged to Aunt Evie, someone Paul, in his arrogance, had summarily dismissed as mere “trailer trash.” Ali found herself smiling at the irony. Paul Grayson’s command-performance entertaining was far in the past, and tonight’s low-key celebration had fulfilled Ali’s long-ago dream of how those lovely but costly dishes would be used.
Ali was drying the last of the plates when she heard the front door open. She peeked around the intervening wall, expecting to see Chris returning. Instead, Dave Holman let himself into the room.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “Chris was outside with Athena. He said I should go on in.”
Dave and Ali’s decision to put their romance on hold while maintaining their friendship had led to a certain amount of confusion on both sides. Glad to see him under any circumstances, Ali put down her dish towel on the counter and hurried over to kiss him hello. He kissed her back with a lot more enthusiasm than mere friendship warranted.
“Sit down,” she said, ushering him over to the leather couch. “Don’t be such a stranger. How are the girls?”
“Great,” Dave said. “Cassie’s the same as she always was—never a bit of trouble. As for Crystal? She’s back to being her old self—going to school, getting good grades, playing goalie on her soccer team. It’s like she’s really turned a corner.”
Months earlier, unhappy that her mother and stepfather had moved away from Sedona, Crystal Holman had staged an adolescent insurrection by getting involved with an online predator. Her rash behavior had come close to being fatal for her and for Ali Reynolds. But Ali wasn’t the least bit surprised to know that Crystal was now happy as a clam. The child was a master manipulator. Risky though it had been, everything she had done had been calculated to bring her back home to her father. And it worked like a charm, Ali thought a little ruefully.
“Glad to hear it,” she said aloud. “So this is work?”
Dave nodded. When the girls had come back to Sedona, Dave had moved out of his bachelor-pad apartment and into a three-bedroom rental near the old downtown business district.
“So who’s looking after them while you’re off on a case?” Ali asked. That had been one of Crystal’s complaints—that cases were more important to her father than family. Ali suspected that was still true.
“Crystal promised she’d see to it that Cassie gets to bed on time,” Dave said. “Believe me, I’m keeping the computer under lock and key these days. The only time Crystal gets to use it is when I’m there to supervise.”
Crystal was an experienced thirteen, and not in a good way. Ali wouldn’t have left her in charge of a younger sibling on a bet, but Dave hadn’t asked for her advice about child care any more than Athena and Chris had asked for wedding advice. With some difficulty, Ali managed to keep her mouth shut.
“Meanwhile, you’re working the Forester homicide?” she asked.
Dave nodded. “That’s why I’m here—to ask you some questions. I really do need to track Bryan’s movements today.”
“Is he under arrest?”
Dave shook his head and pulled out a notebook and pen. “Nothing like that,” he said. “This is all very preliminary. We’re just trying to get the lay of the land. What can you tell me about today? I believe you told me Bryan was at your place most of the day.”
“That’s right,” Ali said. “We had a problem with a building inspector, and Bryan waited around until she showed up.”
“Is he usually at your place all day, every day?” Dave asked.
“No,” Ali answered. “He has multiple jobs and multiple crews—three that I know about for sure.”
“What time did he get arrive today?”
Ali had to think about that. “It must have been close to ten. I really didn’t pay much attention. He’s my general contractor, Dave. He isn’t required to punch a clock. He supervises workers, picks up supplies, and chases after permits. When it comes to work ethic, I’d have to say Bryan Forester is right up there at the top of the list. He puts in some very long days—not unlike a certain homicide detective who shall remain nameless.”
Ali’s gentle jibe produced not so much as a glimmer of a smile from Dave. “And how was he once he got there?” the detective persisted. “Did you notice anything unusual about his demeanor?”
Ali paused before she answered. She didn’t want to point the finger of suspicion in Bryan Forester’s direction, but she felt obliged to tell the truth. “I suppose he seemed out of sorts,” she admitted. “I chalked it up to what was going on with the building inspector. She’s not a very nice person.”
“But Bryan didn’t say anything to you about what might have been bothering him?”
“Not to me, and I doubt he said anything to Leland Brooks, either. If he talked to anyone at all, it would be his workers—his foreman, Billy, in particular. They’ve worked together for years.”
Dave jotted something into his notebook. “Billy?”
“William Barnes.”
“Oh, him,” Dave said. “Can you give me the names of the rest of his crew?”
“Not first and last,” Ali said. “Leland probably keeps track of all that. I know them on sight but mostly by first name only. Ryan and Gary are the ones I remember; they both said they’re planning on being on the job tomorrow. If you want to stop by and talk to them then, you’re more than welcome.”
“They’re coming to work tomorrow even after what happened today?” Dave asked. “Why would they do that?”
“Loyalty, maybe?” Ali returned. “Bryan strikes me as a nice guy. His workers seem to think the world of him. Maybe they’re just trying to help out. Or maybe they need the money.”
Dave’s grunt of acknowledgment let Ali know that even though he may have heard what she said, he remained skeptical. “I’ll come see the work crew tomorrow,” he said. “Probably fairly early in the morning, unless something else comes up.”
“How are Bryan’s girls doing?” Ali asked. She couldn’t keep from thinking about those two motherless seven-year-olds. And the fact that they were the ones who had discovered their mother’s body on the front porch.
“As well as can be expected,” Bryan replied grimly. “They’re with their father and their grandparents right now. Bryan’s folks came up from Phoenix. From Sun City. They’re all checked in to the Best Western. Bryan and Morgan’s house has been declared a crime scene. So’s their yard. No one’s going back there for the foreseeable future.”
That was what Ali had expected. So much for Edie’s tuna casserole. But remembering what her mother had said about Bryan’s twins, Ali found herself more worried about one of them. What about the quiet one who never allowed foods to mingle on her plate? How would a child like that deal with what must seem like the total annihilation of her carefully organized existence? “Are they going to be okay?” Ali asked.
“They were pretty distraught,” Dave returned. “And understandably so. Deputy Meecham, the DARE officer, is great with kids. She did what she could to help them, but they’ve been severely traumatized. I’m hoping we’ll be able to schedule CHAP interviews for both girls tomorrow.”
“CHAP?” Ali asked, not recognizing the acronym.
“Childhelp Advocacy Professionals,” Dave said. “It’s an outfit out of Flagstaff made up of psychologists and social workers. They do forensic interviews of at-risk children, including children involved as witnesses in homicide investigations.”
Ali’s heart gave a lurch. “You’re not saying the two Forester children may have actually seen what happened to their mother?”
“No,” Dave assured her. “Not as in eyewitnesses, no. The ME’s preliminary report says Morgan Forester died shortly after she put the twins on their school bus this morning. But if there was something going on in the house—if Bryan and Morgan Forester were feuding in some fashion—I’m guessing those girls know all about it. That’s one thing I learned from dealing with Crystal this past year. Kids know a lot more about what’s going on with their parents than they’re willing to let on.”
The door opened, and Chris bounded into the room in a burst of cold air. “Hey, Dave,” Chris said. “Did Mom tell you the good news—that Athena and I are engaged?”
Grinning, Dave gave Chris a high five. “That’s great,” he said. “Congrats!”
“We’re having a little get-together at the high school gym tomorrow night before the game,” Chris continued. “You’re welcome to come.”
“We’ll see,” Dave said. “I’m up to my eyeballs in a case right now.”
“The Forester murder?” Chris asked.
Dave sent a questioning look in Ali’s direction.
“It’s not my fault,” she said. “I didn’t tell him, not one word.”
“I just heard about it from Athena,” Chris explained. “Mindy, Athena’s roommate, called and told us about it while we were outside. She couldn’t believe it had happened.”
“Mindy?” Dave asked.
“Mindy Farber,” Chris answered. “She teaches second grade at the school in the village. Both the Forester girls are in her class.”
“And the teacher is Athena’s roommate?” Dave asked.
Chris nodded.
“I’ll need that phone number, then,” Dave said, “so I can talk to her as well.”
Chris recited the number, and Dave jotted it down. Watching him, Ali knew it was necessary, knew he was doing his job, but she hated the idea of someone going through those little girls’ lives. Bryan Forester’s daughters had already lost their mother. And if Dave was able to get the goods on their father, they could be destined to lose him as well.
Chris said good night and headed for his room. Dave turned back to Ali. “Can you think of anything else?” he asked.
Ali gave him an appraising look. “I like Bryan Forester,” she said. “I’ve been working with him for months now. I’ve never heard him raise his voice on the job. I’ve never heard him swear. He works hard, and he does a good job. I don’t think he’s a killer.”
Thoughtfully, Dave closed his notebook and dropped it into his pocket. “The problem is,” he said, “most killers don’t wear sandwich boards announcing the fact. And as you and I both know, just because a marriage looks solid to outside observers doesn’t necessarily make it so.”
