car.”
“You may have noticed, my mother gets confused on occasion,” Molly said. “Things that happened months ago seem like yesterday to her. You have to know that Gemma was known to have a few too many now and then. A couple of months ago, when she was in no condition to drive, we brought her home from the club and left her in Mother’s car long enough to sleep it off. Once she sobered up, I took her back down to the club to pick up her car so she could drive herself home.
“The whole episode offended Mother’s tender sensibilities and, like everything else to do with Gemma, it’s stuck in her very random access memory. At the time, she thought I should have brought Gemma into the house and put her to bed properly, in one of the guest rooms. Of course, Mama didn’t bother considering the physical impossibility of my being able to get a sleeping drunk up the stairs and through the house single-handed. That was all my problem, not hers. So periodically, Mama goes off on one of those ‘Gemma’s sleeping’ rants, just like she did last night. When that happens, I try to consider the source and ignore it.”
Having heard what Luis had to say about Gemma’s drinking habits, Ali was tempted to accept Molly’s explanation at face value. Still, something about the supposedly plausible answer jarred. It was a little too smooth, too pat-as though it had been rehearsed or delivered before, verbatim.
“What about your mother’s missing necklace?” Ali asked.
That one caught Molly off guard. Her cheeks paled. “What missing necklace?” she asked.
“You know,” Ali said with a careless shrug. “The one Gemma offered to come help find.”
There was a momentary silence. Gradually, color seeped back into Molly’s face. Ali knew something important had just happened, though she wasn’t sure what.
Shaking her head, Molly regrouped. “Oh, that,” she said offhandedly. “Same thing. As I said before, Mother gets confused from time to time. She had told Gemma that morning on the phone that she had lost her favorite necklace, one Daddy gave her for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Turns out Mama had it put away in an old jewelry box instead of the one she usually uses, so the necklace was never lost in the first place.”
“Where is she, by the way?” Ali asked.
“Mama? I asked her to stay out of the way while we were packing. She’s probably in her room, mooning over that damned photo album from Gemma and Chip’s wedding. She barely lets it out of her sight. Drags it with her everywhere she goes. It drives me nuts.”
The night before, when Ali had seen Doris cradling the wedding album, she had assumed Doris was reliving her own or her daughter’s wedding. Apparently, that assumption had been wrong.
“Your mother’s unrelenting focus on Gemma must be overwhelming at times.”
“You think?” Molly asked with more than a trace of rancor. “Yes, in the wedding sweepstakes, I always come in second best. Actually, I’m so far behind the field that no one even knows I’m there. It’s especially helpful that my mother’s condition makes it possible for her to forget everything about everyone else, but she doesn’t forget a single thing about Gemma. That’s still all there, every bit of it, and Mama never hesitates to rub it in.”
Ali’s iPad dinged, letting her know there was an arriving message, but she had no time to look at it. Somewhere in the back of the house, a door slammed shut, and heavy footsteps came rushing toward the living room. A heavyset man with a fleshy face and coal-black slicked-back hair appeared in the doorway between the dining room and living room.
“If you’re here,” he demanded, “where’s the Jag?”
“What do you mean, where’s the Jag?” Molly returned. “It’s in the garage, where it’s supposed to be.”
“No, it’s not. It was there a few minutes ago, and you were in the shower when I took the Mercedes down to fill up with gas. Now it’s gone.”
Molly looked at him, then wordlessly, she got up and left the room. Moments later, she was back. Once again her face had gone ashen. “She’s gone,” she said.
“Did you give her the medicine?”
Molly nodded.
“Are you sure she took it?”
“It’s gone.”
“Did you up the dose?”
“I gave her the usual amount.”
“Crap,” the man muttered. “How could you be so dumb? I’ve been trying to tell you all along that she might end up developing a tolerance for the stuff. But did you listen? Of course not.”
“I’m sorry,” Molly murmured.
“And today of all days!” he continued to rage. “We’re on a very tight schedule here. We’ve got a plane to catch. Losing track of your mother right now is the last thing we need!”
“I’m sorry,” Molly said again.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he said, ignoring the apology. “How the hell did this happen?”
“I don’t know. When I got out of the shower, I noticed that the dead-bolt key was missing from the entryway table. As far as I knew, Mama was in her room. I thought maybe you had taken the key.”
“What makes you think I’d use the front door to get to the garage?” the man said. “Do I look stupid? We’ve got to find her. Where do you think she went?”
“I don’t know. The last thing we talked about was going to Palm Springs.”
“Would she try driving there on her own? How could she? Does she have keys to the Jaguar? Where are those?”
“In my purse?”
“Are you sure?”
With Molly and the stranger embroiled in their heated argument, and with Molly searching her purse for keys, Ali stole a moment to tap her iPad over to the message page, where she was startled to see two photos-mug shots-of the very man who was standing in the doorway.
The message from Stuart was short and to the point: “Barry Handraker is VERY bad news. Armed and dangerous. If he’s involved in any way, get the hell out. Now!”
Unfortunately, the warning had arrived a few seconds too late, and getting out wasn’t an option. Ali sent the message away so no one else would be able to see it.
“What the hell are we going to do now?”
“I have no idea,” Molly said, crossing the room. She sat down hard on the sofa and buried her face in her hands. “There’s no telling where she’s gone. She might have gone down to the club. That would be my first guess. Do you want me to call and check?”
It seemed possible to Ali that both Molly and her husband, locked in their furious blame game, had forgotten her presence in the room. Cautiously, she leaned over, slipped the iPad into her purse, and pulled out her iPhone, intent on dialing 911. Before she could slide the phone to the on position, however, Barry crossed the room in two gigantic strides and knocked the device out of her hands. The phone sailed across the room, whacked into a wall, and then tumbled to the floor.
“Who the hell is this broad?” he demanded, grasping Ali’s wrist and holding it in a numbing grip that twisted her arm and half lifted her out of the chair. “What’s she doing here? Is she a cop?”
“She’s a writer,” Molly answered. “She told me she’s working on a piece about Gemma.”
“Like hell she is. I’m betting she’s undercover and that she’s really after me. Check her purse. If she’s a cop of some kind, there’ll be ID.”
“I’m not a cop-” Ali began.
“Shut up!”
Molly dutifully retrieved the purse and emptied it onto the coffee table. The Taser came out first and landed with a hard thump. Next came the wallet and the iPad, followed by a compact, several tubes of lipstick, a random collection of pens, and some loose change.
Barry recognized the Taser at once. “That’s a civilian Taser, not a law enforcement one, but I don’t know many writers walking around armed with Tasers, do you?” He turned his full attention on Ali, giving her a hard shake. “Who are you working for?” When she didn’t answer, he looked at Molly, who was still thumbing through Ali’s wallet. “How much does she know?”
Molly stopped and chewed her lower lip before she answered, as though reluctant to do so. It occurred to Ali that Molly was also scared of Barry Handraker. What was it Stuart had said about him in that last text message?
