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?
For a disorienting moment, Mimi couldn’t figure out where she was. Then she saw the cross hanging on the wall and knew she was in a hospital, a hospital somewhere in Phoenix.
She was afraid Hal would have disappeared somehow. Her eyes darted quickly to the right, but there he was, dozing in the same chair where he’d been sitting wide awake the last time she had drifted into a drug-induced
