"Two weeks," she said. "Paul wanted to go to the condo in Aspen on our honeymoon, but my ob-gyn said I shouldn't fly this close to my due date. We were going to drive over to Vegas instead."
"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
"A girl. Paul wanted to name her Sonia Marie. I don't like that name much," April added, "but I guess I'll use it anyway. I wanted something a little more modern. You knowlike Hermione from Harry Potter."
To Ali's way of thinking, Sonia Marie was a better bet than Hermione any day, but Paul was gone now. Soon enough April would realize that, when it came to her child, she was the one who would be making the decisionsall of them. By virtue of being run over by a freight train, Paul Grayson no longer had any effective say in the matter.
"Breakfast is coming," Ali said. "It'll be right out."
"Thank you," April said. Then, after a pause she added, "Thank you for being so nice to me."
You have a lady named Phyllis to thank for that, Ali thought. Someone you've never met and most likely never will.
She said, "This is a very tough situation, and we'll probably have to work together to sort it all out. It'll be better for all concerned if we can be civil to each other."
April nodded. "Did the cops tell you Paul was murdered?"
"Yes."
"Who would do such a thing?" April asked as the tears started up again. "I just can't imagine it. How could they be so cold-blooded as to put him on the train tracks and just leave him there to die?"
"I can't imagine that, either," Ali said. And it was true. The idea was as unfathomable for her as it was for April.
"They think whoever did it left him there and then escaped by walking down the train tracks," April continued. "That's why they didn't find any footprints at the scene. They must have planned it that way so there wouldn't be any evidence. They think the killer had an accomplice who met him somewhere down the tracks, and that's how he got away. They said he was probably still in the area when Paul died. I guess the engine on the Camry was still warm when the cops got there. Can you imagine doing something like that and then standing around waiting for it to happen?"
April's words chilled Ali. If the killer had been somewhere nearby when the crash occurred, then he was probably still there when the emergency vehicles were dispatched to the scene as wellat the same time Ali herself was driving past on the freeway.
That meant the cops would go looking for someone who might have given the escaping killer a ride. That also meant Detectives Sims and Taylor wouldn't have far to look, especially if the old will was still in effect. They'd come after Aliwith a vengeance.
As someone with the three necessary ingredientsmotive, opportunity, and an unidentified accompliceAli would be exactly what the detectives wanted and needed, a prime suspect.
CHAPTER 6
It turned out April was hungry enough that one order of toast and marmalade wasn't enough to do the job. Ali went back to the kitchen for a second helping. When she returned with it, she was surprised to find a camera crew had arrived. Someone was sweeping up the broken rock, and others were setting up cameras on the side of the terrace, where the city of L.A. would serve as a backdrop. She returned to the table just as Tracy McLaughlin came jogging up the stairs and back onto the terrace.
Earlier, when he'd been giving grief to the groundskeepers, he'd been clad in a T-shirt and a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts. Now, he was dressed in what looked like the same kilt he'd worn for the RV mural. Tucked under one arm, like a football, was a ball of granitea four, Ali estimated. Nodding briefly in April's direction, he marched over to the camera crew. He put the ball down on the flagstone terrace. When he straightened, he brushed a long lock of blond hair off his forehead and then stopped to confer with a member of the crew. Meanwhile, the ball of granite set off on its own and rolled drunkenly across the terrace. It came to rest near the leg of Ali's chair. A five-inch-tall numeral 3 had been sandblasted into its otherwise smooth surface. Having it roll in her direction seemed far less dangerous than having it bounce.
Leaving the camera crew, McLaughlin hurried over to retrieve it. "Sorry about that," he said.
"This is Tracy," April said to Ali. To Tracy she added, "And this is Ali."
No last names were mentioned or seemed to be necessary.
"Glad to meet you," Ali said.
He nodded. "Same here."
Just then a sweet young thing, a Hispanic woman in a very short skirt and very high heels, came through the French doors from the living room. Ali recognized her as a former intern from the station, although she couldn't remember the name. She wore a lapel mic and was dressed in a business suitinterviewer rather than intern attire. Obviously her career had taken an upward swing since Ali had last seen her. As she headed for the camera crew, so did Tracy.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," he said. Grabbing his ball, he hurried after her, smoothing his unruly hair as he went. Something about seeing the woman seemed to penetrate April's fog and she suddenly realized that, of all the people on the terrace, she was the only one wearing a robe.
Abruptly, she pushed her chair away from the table. "I've got to go get dressed," she said.
Since no one had come to summon Ali, she stayed where she was. A few seconds later, Tracy McLaughlin, still holding his granite ball, and Sandy Quijadashe announced her name at the beginning of the interviewstepped in front of the camera for an old-fashioned stand-up.
"This is Tracy McLaughlin," Sandy said, smiling engagingly into the camera. "You're generally credited with inventing Sumo Sudoku. Do you mind telling us how that all came about?"
"Just because someone is strong doesn't mean he's stupid," Tracy told her. "It's one of the oldest cliches in the book. I mean, how many times have you heard the words dumb as an ox'? If you're a jock, people automatically assume you're also a dolt. Sumo Sudoku is a game that mixes brains and brawn."
"How?" Sandy asked.
Not exactly insightful, Ali thought.
"Sudoku is a game of logic," Tracy replied. "Regular sudoku is usually played with a paper and pencil. Or a pen if you're very good."
"Like a crossword puzzle," Sandy supplied.
"Right," Tracy said. "Only with numbers instead of words. It's done on a square layout of eighty-one squares arranged in a nine-by-nine matrix. Numbers from one to nine are placed in the squares so that all values occur without repetition in each horizontal line, in each vertical line, and in each of the nine three-by-three submatrices that fit within the nine-by-nine square."
Sandy frowned slightly, as though the word "submatrices" was leaving her in the dust. "So how is Sumo Sudoku different?"
Not a dumb blonde, Ali thought. But dumb nevertheless.
"For one thing, it's played outdoors," Tracy explained patiently. "Instead of using paper, we use grass or sand or even gravel. It has to be played on level ground so the numbers stay wherever they're placed. And instead of using a pencil to fill in the numbers, we use rocks like this." He hefted the granite ball into the air and held it up to the camera so that the sandblasted number 3 was showing.
"This is a number three rock. It weighs thirty pounds. The number one rocks weigh ten pounds. The number nine rocks weigh ninety pounds."
"That's a lot of rocks," Sandy marveled.
Tracy nodded. "It is," he agreed. "The total weight of the playing pieces is four thousand fifty pounds. Not exactly your grandfather's game of checkers."
"I'll say." Sandy beamed.
"So when we set up for a game, the grid is made up of individual squares that are two feet on each side, so a full layout is eighteen feet per side. As I said, the terrain should be flat enough to prevent placed markers from rolling on their own, but it may be flat or sloped, grassy or sandyslightly damp sand is better than dry. Like golf, you must play the terrain as well as the basic game."