"We're also reading it now because Ted Grantham is a spineless wuss," Helga observed. "When I called and suggested reading the will today, he practically fell all over himself saying yes. He even suggested we go to the house to do it. He said he'd call Les Jordan and April and set it up."
Ali was dismayed. "We're going to the house on Robert Lane?" she asked. "Couldn't we do this somewhere elseanywhere else? Why would Grantham suggest such a thing? Why would you agree to it?"
"Because evidently he doesn't think April's in any condition to go elsewhere," Helga said. "I think he also agreed to reading the will today because he's nervous. His divorce case is in the toilet, but he still wants to be paid. Grantham may not have drafted the new will, but I'm guessing he knows the terms. He hasn't come right out and said sothat would be a breach of client privilegebut from the way he's acting, I'm guessing the new will has been drafted without being put into effect."
"And I'm still the main beneficiary?"
"Right," Helga answered. "So Grantham is making nice with us because he thinks you'll be the one settling Paul's estateas well as paying any outstanding bills."
"He's doing this because he's buttering us up?"
"Buttering you up," Helga corrected. "He also said something about preserving community assets. I think he's worried about handing things off to you before any of those assets has a chance to disappear. If that were to happen, he's concerned he might somehow end up being held responsible."
"What do you mean disappear?" Ali asked.
"You've never had the pleasure of meeting April Gaddis," Helga said with a disdainful sniff. "Ted has met her, and so have I. Prior to meeting your husband and signing on for what she thought would be a very luxurious free ride, her greatest ambition was to become a Pilates instructor someday. She's gorgeous but not exactly the brightest bulb I ever met. The same goes for some of the bodybuilding pals she likes to hang out with. I wouldn't call them the salt of the earth, either. April's bachelorette party the other night was wild enough that the cops had to be summoned to quiet things downand that's with her about to give birth.
"Ted's worried that when some of the more disreputable wedding guests who've been staying at the house pack up to go home, some of Paul's precious objets d'art might end up going home with them. Grantham is lobbying for you to demand a full inventory of the contents of the Robert Lane housean immediate full inventory."
"In other words," Ali said, "Ted's rooting for the old will over the new one because he expects to hand the whole mess over to me and maybe get paid faster besides. But if the old will is still in effect and I'm the primary beneficiary, doesn't that give me a clear motive for wanting Paul dead? Doesn't it make me look that much worse to the cops?"
"That just about covers it," Victor agreed. "What's good for Ted could be bad for us."
"I still don't like the fact that we're having the will read now," Ali said after a pause. "It seems rude and pushy."
They had come to a stop at a light on Sunset. Victor sought Ali's eyes in the rearview mirror. "It probably is rude and pushy," he agreed. "But let me remind you, this is a homicide investigation, Alipossibly even capital murder. With your life at stake, you by God better believe we're going to be pushy."
"All right," Ali conceded finally. "Fair enough."
Robert Lane was only a few blocks long and sat on top of a steep hill just up from Sunset Boulevard; it was a winding, narrow, and supposedly two-way street. Whenever Paul and Ali had thrown partieswhich they had done oftenthey had rented the parking lot from a neighboring church down on Sunset and then hired one of the local parking valet firms to ferry guests' cars up and down the hill.
Since the wedding and reception had both been scheduled to take place at the house, Ali assumed the parking arrangements would have been canceled once the wedding was called off. The sides of the street were full of illegally parked vehicles, most of them bearing media insignia. When Victor pulled up to the gate, Ali was surprised to see that it was wide open. She was even more surprised to see the parking valets very much in evidence although most of the newsies had chosen to disregard the valet parking option.
"Keep your cool, Ali," Victor advised as he turned in at the gate. He maneuvered his Lincoln into a narrow parking place between a catering truckif the wedding had been canceled, why a catering truck?and an enormous RV garishly painted an overall red and blue plaid pattern. On the side was a picture of a muscle-bound, bare-chested man wearing little more than a kilt. Beside him, printed in huge gold letters, were the words TEAM MCLAUGHLIN. SUMO SUDOKU.
Ali had a passing knowledge of sudoku. In fact, the waitresses at the Sugar Loaf had become sudoku addicts and experts, spending their break times working the puzzles in discarded newspapers left behind by customers who weren't so afflicted.
Puzzles of any kind had never really appealed to Ali, but she had learned enough to understand that sudoku was a game of logic played on a square containing eighty-one boxes divided into nine smaller squares. It was similar to a crossword puzzle only with numbers rather than words. The object was to fill in all horizontal and vertical lines with the numbers one through nine without ever having the same number appear twice in any of the lines. Each of the smaller boxes was also supposed to contain the numbers one through nine with no repetition. Ali assumed that Sumo Sudoku was more of the same, only bigger.
"Your husband's death is a big story, and everybody is covering it," Victor cautioned. "That means there may be reporters outside the door. So when we get out of the vehicle to go inside, try to keep quiet. I don't want any off-the-cuff remarks from anybody, you included, Helga," he added.
With Ali's attention focused on the garishly painted truck, she almost missed the group of reporters bearing down on them as Ted Grantham hustled out of the house to usher them inside. "Right this way," he said hurriedly. "Les isn't here yet. He called to say he's tied up in traffic. April should be down in a few minutes."
Down from what used to be my room, Ali thought, but she said nothing.
"Sorry about all the uproar," Ted commented, leading them toward the front door, where a hand-lettered DO NOT DISTURB sign had been posted over the doorbell. "But the film crew was already scheduled to be here today as part of the festivities," he continued. "Since this is the only day they can be here, April decided to go ahead with the shoot after all. Even with Paul gone, she thinks once the program is in the can there's a chance they'll still be able to get it on the airmaybe on one of those reality shows."
"What shoot?" Helga asked.
"The Sumo Sudoku shoot," Ted answered. "Surely you've heard of Sumo Sudoku. It's Paul's latest brainchild. April's, too, for that matter. It's all the rage around here and supposedly the next big thing. You play it with rocks. When Tracy McLaughlin of Team McLaughlin takes the RV down to the beach and sets up a match there, it's amazing. People line up to play; they're even willing to fork over good money for the privilege."
Only half listening to Ted, Ali stepped through the double doors with their elegant frosted glass and into the spacious foyer. It was a strange experience. This light-washed entryway with its hardwood floor and antique credenza had once been part of her home. Most of the house had been decorated in accordance with Paul's unrelentingly modern sensibility. In the face of all that brass and glass, Ali had gravitated to the one exceptiona beautifully wrought, bird's-eye maple credenza that had occupied the place of honor in the entryway. She had loved the slightly curved lines of the piece and complex patterns in the grain of the wood. In a way, the credenza had seemed almost as much of an interloper in Paul's house as Ali herself had been.