The first e-mail she sent was to Velma T in Laguna.
Dear Velma,
A friend of mine may well be in need of your nephew's services. Please let him know that if he is contacted in regard to defending someone named Jesus Sanchez, he should be in touch with me so arrangements can be made for handling any necessary retainer. My contact phone number is listed below.
ALI
Next Ali wrote to Andrea Morales.
Dear Andrea,
I spoke to your aunt, Clemencia Sanchez, earlier today. It seems likely that your uncle, Jesus, may require the services of a defense attorney. A friend of mine has recommended someone named Richard Dahlgood. Although I don't know the man personally, he does appear to have a considerable defense practice here in the L.A. area. His contact information is listed below.
If your aunt and uncle are interested in engaging Mr. Dahlgood's services, please let me know so I can make arrangements for payment of any required retainer. Also, please let your uncle know that he is back on my payroll at the moment regardless of whether or not he is able to return to work. Also tell him the house on Robert Lane is currently off-limits to all of us due to the ongoing police investigation. I will need to know where his pay envelopes should be delivered.
Also, if he has any information concerning the whereabouts of Henrietta Jackson, the cook who was fired along with him, or of my former cook, Elvira Jimenez, I would appreciate knowing how to reach them. I'm concerned that Elvira may have been let go under circumstances similar to what happened to your uncle.
REGARDS,
ALI REYNOLDS
Several readers weighed in on Ali's legal issues. Those she responded to briefly and let go. Several others addressed her earlier post about her mother.
Dear Babe,
I read several blogs a day and have been a fan of yours for some time. Not all mothers are created equal. You're lucky. Your mother sounds wonderful. Mine was poison. I'm glad she's dead.
ALMA
That one Ali posted. As she kept reading, she found that the people who had written in were divided almost fifty-fifty on either side of the good mother/bad mother spectrum. By the time she had worked her way through that set of correspondence and added several more posts, Ali found herself agreeing with Alma's assessment. Ali Reynolds really was lucky.
As the afternoon waned, Ali realized she was hungry. Edie had not yet returned. Ali tried calling her mother's cell againto no avail. Once again the call went straight to voice mail. Just to be sure, Ali checked her own phone to see if she had missed receiving a message. She hadn't. She checked the room phone for messages as well. No luck. Finally she called down to the desk. Edie hadn't left a note there, either. And then, just to cover all the bases, she tried April's phones, too, both her room and her cell. Again, no answer.
Feeling the first inkling of concern, Ali transferred over to the bell captain. "This is Ali Reynolds," she said.
Her reputation for generous tipping had preceded her. For Ali Reynolds no ticket number was required. "Right, Ms. Reynolds," the bell captain said at once. "Would you like me to have your vehicle brought around to the back?"
"No," she said. "I'm actually calling about my mother's vehicle. Is it there?"
"Do you have the valet number for that one?"
"No," Ali replied. "It's a white Oldsmobile Alero with Arizona plates."
"Oh, that one," he said. "It was self-parked. She left like she was headed to a fire sometime right around one. It was busy, and we were totally backed up here. She was in such a hurry that she almost ran down one of my guys."
"Was she alone?"
"As far as I know."
Off the phone, Ali tried to imagine where Edie would have been going in such a hurry. As an out-of-town driver, she wasn't familiar with the L.A. area. Wherever it was, it was likely she would have needed detailed directions. If she hadn't asked one of the parking valets for help, maybe she had done so online.
Ali returned to her computer and checked out the search page, looking for the most recent searches. She expected to find a listing for MapQuest or one of the other online map providers. What she found instead was a list of several Iowa-based searches, including one for the Des Moines Register. Iowa. Tracy McLaughlin had been sent up for grand theft auto in Iowa.
Ali grabbed her phone and dialed Dave.
"What's up?" he asked.
"We may have a problem," Ali said. "I can't find my mother, and I'm pretty sure she's been playing detective. While I was gone, she was looking up something in the Des Moines Register."
"Smart woman," Dave said. "She must have been tracking Tracy McLaughlin, too."
"She may be smart, but she's also not here," Ali said. "At the hotel."
"Where'd she go?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I have no idea. The parking valet said she left in a hell of a hurry, but she didn't leave a note, and she's not answering her cell."
"How long has she been gone?"
"She left the hotel a little after one," Ali replied.
"Have you called your dad?" Dave asked. "Maybe she's called him."
"I can check," Ali said.
"Good. You do that," Dave said. "In the meantime, I'm on my way. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Ali was waiting at the hotel entrance when Dave pulled into the driveway in his Nissan. "Well?" he asked as she settled into the passenger seat.
"Dad hasn't heard from her," Ali reported. "His first thought was that she'd probably gone to see a bargain matinee. That was my idea, too, but the movie would be over by now. Dad's worried, and so am I. Should I call the cops and report her missing?"
Dave shook his head. "It won't make any difference. They're not going to go looking for her right now anyway. We're better off looking ourselves. Where do you think she might have gone?"
"Mom's from out of town," Ali replied. "She doesn't really know her way around L.A. The only map she has in the Alero is that big atlas. I know she used MapQuest directions to get to the hotel, but there were no MapQuest searches on my computer."
"So wherever she went, if she drove herself, she must have known where she was going," Dave concluded.
Ali nodded. "Right. And the only two familiar places I know about for sure are the hospital and the house on Robert Lane. If April went into labor, she could have gone to Cedars-Sinai. I'm pretty sure that's where Mom said April plans to deliver. But it's possible she might have gone to the house for some strange reason, too."
Dave put the Nissan in gear. "The hospital isn't going to tell us anything. Let's try the house first. Have you tried calling April?"
"I did," Ali told him. "Both her room and her cell. No answer."
"Try again, just in case."
Once again both of April's phones went to voice mail. Ali tried Edie's phone again with the same result. By then Ali was feeling the first tinge of real panic.
When they reached the house on Robert Lane, they found it deserted. Crime scene tape was still draped across the front door, warning people not to enter. There was no sign of Edie's Oldsmobile anywhere and no sign of any other vehicles, either.
"She's not here," Ali concluded. "And I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about thisa really bad feeling."
"Don't worry," Dave said. "Not yet. I'm sure she's fine. Let's try the hospital next."
At Cedars-Sinai, Dave drove through the parking garages, prowling the stalls and searching for the Alero, while Ali went inside to the patient information desk and tried to bluff her way into finding out whether or not a patient named April Gaddis had been admitted. It was like banging her head on a brick wall. No one would tell her anything. Period. When Ali caught up with Dave again, she learned that his garage search had been equally fruitless.