Roseanne pushed the jewel-laden ziplock bag back in Ali's direction. It lay there on the tabletop between them for the better part of a minute. Then, when the waitress reappeared with their salads and iced teas, Roseanne snatched the bag off the table and stuffed it back into her purse and out of sight.
Once again they waited until the waitress had walked away from their table.
"If these people are so all-powerful and all-knowing, who are they? You may have your suspicions that they're responsible for what happened to Paul, but do you have any proof?"
"I just know it," Roseanne said fervently. "I know it in my bones."
"That's not good enough."
"By the time I get proof, I'll be dead, too," Roseanne said.
Ali had to admit that was a pretty telling argument. She decided to change tactics. "So these people are all tied in with the Pink Swan," she said. "Tell me about that."
"The bottom floor is just your basic topless joint with a bar and nude dancing, and all the rest of it. That one is open to the public. Upstairs is privatean upscale gentlemen's club they call it. That's where the real action isall kinds of action. You can go there and do whatever you want and nobody bothers you, especially no reporters. They don't come near the place."
"Who owns it?" Ali asked.
"A lady named Lucia Joaquin. At least, her name is the one on the liquor license. She's the widow of a major player in one of the Colombian drug cartels. Years ago when her husband was gunned down, she came here with her kids along with a ton of money, money she managed to invest in real estate all over L.A."
"Drug money?" Ali asked.
"I'm sure," Roseanne answered with a nod. "But just because she moved out of the country didn't mean she moved out of the drug business. She's kept her hand in the whole time she's been here. Her two sons may work for her, but even though she's been sick, Lucia is still the real brains behind the outfit. She's also the one who gave the Pink Swan its name. I've never met her, but I've been told she always wears pinkfrom head to toe."
"What about the sons?" Ali asked.
"Mario and Reynaldo," Roseanne replied. "They both went to school here in the States. One's an MBA type and the other's more of an engineer. Lucia's money comes rolling in from whatever source. The sons figure out ways to turn all that illicit cash into something more or less legitimate."
"Like Sumo Sudoku?" Ali asked.
Roseanne nodded. "Exactly."
"Which one of the sons is Amber's father?"
"Neither," Roseanne answered. "There was a third childa daughter. I don't know her name. She died years ago. Lucia raised Amber and thinks she can do no wrong. Unfortunately, Amber doesn't have quite the same work ethic her grandmother has. But she's going to be loaded one of these days, so I can see why Jake might be interested in her. As for why Amber's interested in Jake?" Roseanne added. "I have no idea."
Having met the young woman in question the previous night, Ali could have told Roseanne that Amber came with her own set of problems, but she didn't.
"So will you help me or not?" Roseanne asked, going back once again to the jewelry.
Ali thought about it. Roseanne had brought her here under false pretenses. She had claimed to have information about Paul's death, but from Ali's point of view, what she had offered was little more than unsubstantiated suspicionsnone of them enough to make Ali's trip worthwhile.
"I think my answer is not," Ali replied. "The only reason you brought me here was to unload your jewelry and get some cash."
"But" Roseanne began.
Ali stood up. "If you decide you want to go to that lawyer or to the cops and tell them what's going on, call me again and we'll talk. In the meantime, Roseanne, I'm afraid you're on your own."
A despairing Roseanne watched as Ali flagged down the waitress. Roseanne was still seated at their table as Ali left. Enough time had passed that only a few stragglers still lingered outside, waiting for tables. Ali started through them and was headed for her car when someone called after her.
"Ms. Reynolds?"
Thinking it was someone who recognized her from her days on the news, Ali stopped and turned back to find the hostess hurrying after her. "Yes."
"There's a phone call for you at the hostess desk," Carrie said. "You can take it back inside. There's an extension on the wall there by the restrooms."
Why would someone be calling me here? Ali wondered. The only person who had known she was coming to Claim Jumper was her mother. That was probably the call she had ignored earlier.
"Thank you," Ali said, allowing herself to be led back into the restaurant. When she picked up the receiver, Ali was amazed to find Dave Holman on the phone.
"What's going on?" Ali wanted to know. "How did you know to call me here? Did you talk to Mom?"
"Listen to me for a minute," he said urgently. "Is Roseanne still there?"
"Yes, but"
"Good," Dave Holman said, sounding relieved. "I'm glad I got here in time."
Ali glanced around the restaurant but didn't see him anywhere. "You're here? Where? I thought you were on your way to Lake Havasu."
"Things changed. Roxie had made other plans and didn't want me dropping in on the kids unannounced.' In the meantime, I'm in Valencia now. At a pay phone directly across the street from the Claim Jumper."
"You followed me here? Why? What's happening? And you still haven't told me why you didn't call on my cell."
"The last few days," he said, "with everything that's been going on, I've managed to make friends with Bruno Cutler, the head of security at your hotel. Late this afternoon, someone came speeding into the hotel parking garage. He waved what was supposedly an LAPD badge at the garage attendant and said he was there to check on a stolen vehicle. The attendant didn't think that much about it at the time, but later on, when Bruno was reviewing the garage security tapes, he noticed someone messing around with your vehicle, and he called me."
"Someone was messing with my Cayenne?" Ali asked. "Who and why?"
"I've seen the tape now, too," Dave said. "And I'm pretty sure I know who it was. You do, too. He drives a Honda Element, and he's parked outside the restaurant right now. The Element is parked right next to your Porsche."
"Tracy McLaughlin followed me here?" Ali asked. "How could he? Roseanne was afraid someone might try to follow me, so I checked. There was no one anywhere near me."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Dave replied. "I think McLaughlin stuck a GPS tracking device under your rear bumper. If they were using one of those, there would have been no need to keep your vehicle in sight. The tape shows him taking something small out of his pocket and then reaching up toward the underside of your back bumperright in the middle of it, straight down from the lock."
"I don't understand. Why would Tracy McLaughlin want to find me?" Ali asked.
"I think the people Tracy works for are looking for Roseanne Maxwell. Tracy followed you in hopes you'd lead him to her."
Which I did, Ali thought with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"But how could Tracy possibly know I was coming to see her?" Ali asked at last.
"Good question," Dave said. "That's why I'm calling you on the restaurant phone instead of your cell. It's why I'm not using my cell, either."
Ali stopped short, remembering Roseanne's concerns about the likelihood of her phone being tapped. Now Dave shared that worry.
"Are you saying someone may have been listening in on my cell phone calls?" Ali asked.
"Affirmative," Dave replied.
"What should I do then?" Ali returned.
"Where is Roseanne?"
"Still at our table. She rode here with a friend who works at the restaurant. I imagine she's planning on staying until the friend gets off work."
"Whatever you do, don't let her leave," Dave said urgently. "Did she tell you anything important?"