Web of Evil

footed, hands on her hips, glaring up into Tracy McLaughlin's face. The security guard pressed one of the controls. Suddenly Edie Larson was in motion. Her mouth moved. Her hands gestured furiously. No words could be heard, but then, they didn't need to be.

Ali knew her mother. Edie had never been one to hold back on delivering her opinions. Here she was giving a suspected killer a piece of her mind.

Watching the video sent a surge of fear through Ali's body. She had done the same thing onceshe had bearded a suspected killer long before anyone else had tumbled to what had happened. In the process Ali had put herself in harm's way and had come closer to dying that day than she cared to remember. Now Edie Larson had done the same thingput herself in harm's way.

'What now?' she asked.

'I think it's time to file that missing person's report,' Dave said.

CHAPTER 13

Upstairs, the first call Ali made was to Missing Persons at LAPDwith predictable results. Carolyn Little, the Missing Persons cop Ali had spoken to on Friday, wasn't available on weekends, and no other officer came on the line, either. Instead, an indifferent clerk with minimal typing skills and an even smaller sense of urgency took the information on the disappearance of Edie Larson.

'You be sure to let us know if Ms. Larson turns up, now,' the clerk said cheerily when she finished. 'If we don't hear from you by this time tomorrow, an officer should be in touch. If not tomorrow, then the day after.' Click.

Ali flung down the phone. 'So much for getting any help from LAPD,' she muttered.

'What did you expect?' Dave asked.

Shaking her head in disgust, Ali dialed the number she had for the Riverside Sheriff's Department. If she had reached the younger detective, she might have achieved better results, but at seven o'clock on a Sunday evening, talking with Detective Sims was the best she could do. He was a long way from sympathetic.

'I'm a homicide detective,' he said. 'If you've got a missing person on your end, you need to call LAPD.'

'We already did that,' Ali told him. 'They're not exactly interested.'

'Why should I be?'

'Because we think my mother's disappearance may have something to do with my husband's homicide and with one of my husband's acquaintancesa guy named Tracy McLaughlin.'

'What about him?' Sims asked.

The way Sims asked the question made it clear McLaughlin was already a known entity, but Ali wasn't eager to give up any additional information without first having some assurances from the detective that he would intercede with the LAPD on Edie Larson's behalf.

'You know Tracy McLaughlin went to prison for car theft?' Ali asked.

'That's what I like about all you hotshot media types,' Detective Sims grumbled. 'You think that just because we're cops, we must be too dumb to wipe our own butts. Of course I know McLaughlin got sent up for grand theft auto. Served five and a half years. In a homicide involving a stolen vehicle, don't you think that's the kind of thing that would have come to our attention once we started investigating your husband's friends and associates? And what the hell does that have to do with the fact that your mother has apparently taken a powder?'

'My mother's a responsible person,' Ali returned. 'She wouldn't leave of her own volition without letting one of us know. I talked to her shortly before she disappeared. She said she thought Tracy McLaughlin was somehow involved with April Gaddis, my husband's fiancee.'

'Talk about yesterday's news,' Sims returned dismissively. 'Of course they were involved. April and Tracy have been friends for years. According to what April told us earlier, she was the one who brought Sumo Sudoku to her husband's attention in the first place.'

Being friends and having a romantic encounter in a hotel hallway were two entirely different things, but Ali suspected that if she hinted at a possible romantic connection between April and Tracy, Detective Sims would most likely discount that as well.

'Before my mother left she was involved in a verbal confrontation with Tracy McLaughlin. We saw that on a security tape. She also collected a cigarette butt and left it in a plastic bag,' Ali continued. 'Dave Holman and I believe that may have come from Tracy McLaughlin as well. If DNA from that could be linked to the duct tape found on my husband'

'Who says there was duct tape?' Detective Sims demanded. 'How would you know about that?'

'I saw it, remember?' Ali reminded him. 'When I identified the body. I'm no expert, but the marks I saw on his face certainly looked like they could have come from duct tape.'

'Oh,' Sims said. 'I see.'

'So are you checking the duct tape for DNA evidence?' Ali insisted.

'Of course we're checking it,' Sims replied with an impatient snarl. 'But this isn't exactly CSI Miami. In our neck of the woods it generally takes a while for our people to develop a DNA profile. We don't try to get the job done in sixty minutes minus commercials, so don't expect us to have lab results tomorrow or next week or even next month. We're also required to maintain chains of evidence. If and when we decide we need a DNA sample from Mr. McLaughlin, you can be sure we'll be able to obtain one on our own without help from either you or your mother. In the meantime, we have leads and we're working them. Now, if you don't mind, this is supposed to be my day off.'

With that Sims hung up, leaving Ali holding the phone.

'What?' Dave asked.

'I don't think Detective Sims is going to help us find Mom or Tracy McLaughlin,' Ali said.

'If we can't go through official channels, we'll have to try some unofficial ones,' Dave said, reaching for his phone.

'Your pal at LAPD?'

Dave nodded. 'If he's home. He said something about going camping on his days off.'

While Dave worked his phone, Ali stood in the middle of the room, holding her cell phone and thinking. She remembered something Helga had said the day before as Victor had been driving them from the hotel to Robert Lane. Scrolling through her cell's phone book, Ali located Helga Myerhoff's number and dialed it.

'Yesterday, when you were talking to me about April Gaddis,' Ali said, 'I seem to remember that you mentioned something about her wanting to be a Pilates instructor.'

'Yes,' Helga answered. 'That's right.'

'And that some of her friends weren't exactly nice people?' Ali pressed.

'Bit of an understatement,' Helga replied. 'Have you ever heard of The Body Shop in Century City?'

'Car repairs?' Ali asked.

'Not exactly,' Helga said with a snort. 'Although it's located in a building that once held an auto dealership, it's got nothing at all to do with cars. It's a twenty-four-hour upscale fitness club where network bigwigs and wannabe bigwigs can mix and mingle, see and be seen. It's also one of the hot, in-crowd places at the moment. Supposedly the gym comes complete with one-on-one personal trainers, an organic juice bar, and with personal chefs available upon request. More than that, though, it also operates as a convenient pickup joint. That's where April first met Paul, by the way. She worked there as a receptionist.'

Makes sense, Ali thought. For an undereducated and beautiful young woman like April Gaddis, who was also ambitious and determinedly upwardly mobile, The Body Shop sounded like the perfect manhunt launching pad.

'The Body Shop's biggest appeal is that it's both respectable and edgy,' Helga continued. 'As you already know, some of Hollywood's best-known heavy hitters are afflicted with complicated substance-abuse issues. For these relatively respectable guys, it's a lot more convenient if they can meet up with their drug supplier at some fashionable watering hole rather than having to buy their next hit from a street dealer at some dingy intersection in L.A.'

'What about Tracy McLaughlin?' Ali asked.