Web of Evil: A Novel of Suspense by J. A. Jance Read Free Book Online Page B

drop by in a little while before I head home.”
    “Sorry,” Ali said. “That won’t be possible.” She was aware that the cops in the front seat were listening avidly to everything she said and to every nuance of her side of the conversation. Their interest gave Ali a hint about how badly she had screwed up by not heeding Helga’s advice.
    “Why not?” Angeleri wanted to know. “What’s more important than meeting with me?”
    “It’s just that I’m not at the hotel right now,” she said. “I’m actually on my way to Indio. Two detectives from the Riverside Sheriff’s Department picked me up and asked me to come with them. They need someone to identify a dead man—the man they think is my husband.”
    Angeleri uttered a string of very unlawyerlike words, ones Edie Larson would have deemed unprintable. “Are you nuts or what? You mean you just got in the car with them?” he demanded. “And now they’re taking you all the way to Indio?”
    Ali didn’t know Victor Angeleri, but he sounded upset—furious, even—as though he couldn’t quite believe he’d been stuck with such a numbskull for a client. Ali couldn’t believe it, either.
    “That’s where the body is,” Ali said.
    “You’re going to the coroner’s office there?” Victor wanted to know.
    “Evidently,” Ali answered meekly.
    “All right,” Victor shouted into her ear. “Where are you now?”
    “Merging onto the ten.”
    “I’m leaving the office right now. I’ll meet you there. In the meantime, keep your mouth shut.”
    “Where did you say we’re going?” Ali asked, directing her question at Sims.
    “The Riverside County Morgue,” he answered. “The address is—”
    “I know the address,” Angeleri interrupted, bellowing the words loud enough to break Ali’s eardrum. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Until you and I have a chance to talk in private, you’re to say nothing more. Nothing! You can talk about the weather. You can talk about the World Series, but that’s it. Understand?”
    “Got it,” Ali answered. “I hear you loud and clear.”
    That was actually something of an understatement since Sims and Taylor must have heard him, too. The two detectives exchanged a raised-eyebrow look, and Sims heaved a resigned sigh. Clearly they had been having their way with her. Now the game was up. Ali’s only hope was that Victor Angeleri would be smart enough to dig her out of the hole she had dug herself into before she made it any deeper.
    Ali glanced at her watch. At the rate traffic was moving, it would be another two hours before they made it to Indio. And with Victor leaving the office on Wilshire that much behind them, Ali calculated that it would be hours before the attorney could catch up with them. That meant she was in for several uncomfortable hours of keeping her mouth shut.
    Gradually traffic began to thin. The car sped up, but clearly Taylor and Sims had gotten the message. They made no further attempt to ask her questions about anything—including the run-up to the World Series. Left to her own devices, Ali spent the time trying to figure out how, in the course of one short day, she had gone from being an almost divorced woman to being a homicide suspect.
    Ali checked her watch when they pulled up outside the coroner’s office in Indio. She expected they’d have to wait another hour at least before Victor could possibly catch up with them. Then, after however long it took to do the identification and conduct any additional interviews, there would be another three-hour car ride back to the hotel.
    Resigned to the idea that it was going to be a very long night, Ali was astonished when an immense man rose from a small waiting room sofa and hurried toward them.
    “Ali Reynolds?” he asked.
    Assuming this was yet another cop of some kind, Ali nodded.
    “Good,” the newcomer said, turning to the detectives. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a word in private with my client.”
    “We’ll be right