"You had no right to do that," Ali announced. "And my mother is right. I have zero intention of staying at the Motel 6. The Westwood is fine with me, thank you very much."
"Please don't go back there, Ms. Reynolds," Easy said. "Desperate people do desperate things. I wouldn't want to see you hurt. You don't know what the Joaquins are capable of."
"I know exactly what they're capable of," Ali said. "I'm the one who identified my husband's body, remember? I want my stuff, Mr. Washington. And I want it now. Not later, now."
With the possibility of a shooting war about to break out in the parking lot, Ali knew she was being unreasonable, but she was tired of being booted around by peoplegood intentioned or notwho were busy deciding what she would and wouldn't do.
"Ali, please" Dave began.
"Give me your keys, Dave," Easy interjected, standing up and holding out his hand. "Tracy McLaughlin knows what you look like. I'll send someone to get her stuff. Where's your car?"
"Out back," Dave replied. "Next to the Dumpsters."
Ali barely waited for Easy to leave the table before she rounded on Dave. "How dare you amp;"
"Easy and I were worried about you."
"Like hell," Ali returned. "You just didn't want to let me in on what was going on."
"You can't go back to the Westwood," Dave insisted. "What if they send someone there after you?"
"Why would they?" Ali demanded. "Their only interest in me had to do with whether or not I'd lead them to Roseanne, which, sorry to say, I seem to have done unerringly. I led them to her, and I led your friend Easy to her as well. By the way, what about Roseanne? Is she under arrest or what?"
"Probably not at the moment," Dave answered. "More likely she'll be taken in for questioning."
"Will they give her a deal if she cooperates with the authorities?" Ali asked.
"That remains to be seen," Dave replied. "I know you mentioned to her that she might be able to work out some kind of a plea bargain, but those decisions are best left up to prosecutors."
"Not to loose-cannon bloggers, right?"
"I didn't say that," he returned. "I didn't say anything of the kind."
"Never mind," Ali put in. "You didn't have to."
Easy returned carrying Ali's two suitcases and the computer case as well. "Where do you want these?" he asked.
"In my car," Ali said. "I'm leaving."
"No, you're not," he answered, putting the luggage down next to the table. "Nobody's leaving right now. All my men are in place. We're waiting for the last two parties of diners to leave the restaurant. Once they're gone and are out of danger, we'll make our move. As soon as we have Mr. McLaughlin safely in custody, you'll be welcome to go anywhere you like. Until that time, though, I need you to stay here."
Time passed slowly. Gradually the restaurant cleared. Finally the door to the kitchen opened. Detective Taylor led Roseanne Maxwell into the room. She was in handcuffs and in tears. "They're going to take me to jail," she said accusingly to Ali. "I thought you told me that if I helped them I'd be able to make some kind of deal."
"I thought so, too," Ali said. "It turns out I was wrong."
"What about that attorney you told me about?" Roseanne asked. "What's his name again?"
"Victor Angeleri," Ali answered. "He may be more than you can afford right now."
"What about my jewelry?" Roseanne asked. "Do you think he might take some of that in trade?"
Months ago, Roseanne Maxwell would have been able to afford the best legal representation money could buy. Now she was one step away from selling her worldly possessions on eBay, and most likely she'd end up with a public defender.
"I don't know about that," Ali said. "You'll need to call Victor up and ask him yourself. Maybe you can work it out."
Easy held up his hand for quiet. Only then did Ali notice he was wearing an earpiece of some kind.
"Okay, people," he announced. "We've got a couple more vehicles to move into place, then it's a go. I'm going out through the kitchen. Everybody else get down on the floor. Keep your heads well below the level of the windowsills. Stay under tables if it's at all possible. Nobody steps outside the restaurant until I give the all-clear. Got it?"
Ali paused long enough to watch Detective Taylor help Roseanne to her knees. Then, with her own heart pounding in her throat, Ali dropped to the floor and scrambled under the table where they'd been sitting. She may have been mad as hell about what was going on right then, but she wasn't stubborn enough to risk her own life because of it.
Lying there on the dingy floor, Ali waited breathlessly to see what would happen next. When nothing did, she turned over far enough to peer up at the table above her. There, in plain view, were several pieces of dead and dying bubble gum, chunks of the stuff that thoughtless diners had unloaded by sticking them to the underside of the table.
For some unaccountable reason, seeing those messy wads of bubble gum while at the same time anticipating the sound of gunfire struck Ali as a kind of grim joke. Unable to help herself, she began to giggle.
Moments later, she was jostled as someone else scrambled into the confined space under the table.
"What's so funny?" Dave asked. "Are you okay?"
Not quite able to explain it herself, Ali finally managed to stifle her fit of inappropriate laughter. When she did, she found she was still upset with him.
"What are you doing here?" she wanted to know. "I thought you'd be outside playing cops and robbers with your friend Easy."
"Come on, Ali," he returned. "I've told you before. This isn't my jurisdiction. I've got no more legal right to participate in a DEA operation than you do. And that's why, when Easy asked me to keep quiet about what was going on, I had to do just thatkeep quiet."
His excuse didn't sit well with her. "Fine then," she said. "Here's an idea for you. How about if you keep on keeping quiet? It seems to me you've said enough for one day."
Dave's exasperated sigh wasn't lost on her. He didn't say, "Women!" but he could just as well have. Turning her back on him, Ali inched forward far enough so she could see the front of the restaurant. The remaining waitstaff had disappeared into the kitchen except for Carrie, who had taken shelter behind the hostess desk.
In the end, all of Easy Washington's advance preparations for a flawless takedown still weren't enoughat least not for the one in Valencia's Claim Jumper parking lot. Before Easy and the last of his officers could move into position, something must have alerted Tracy McLaughlin to their presence. Ali didn't see the suspect slam his Element in gear and shoot forward across the parking lot, but she did hear the squeal of tires and brakes as the vehicle screeched to a stop just outside the restaurant's front door.
Seconds later, Tracy McLaughlin charged into the entryway lobby. Stifling a scream, Carrie tried to retreat farther into the restaurant, but he was too fast for her. As she attempted to dart away from the hostess stand, McLaughlin got one arm around the terrified woman's neck. With his other hand, he held a gun to her head.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ali saw Detective Taylor rise to his feet, weapon in hand. "Drop it," he ordered.
"You drop it," Tracy returned. "If you don't, this woman dies."
"Don't hurt me," Carrie wailed. "Please don't hurt me."
For a long moment, the three of them remained in a frozen tableau. Then, moving slowly and deliberately, Detective Taylor grasped the handle of his.38 with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and carefully deposited the weapon on a nearby table.
"That's better," Tracy said. "Move away from the table."
Detective Taylor complied.
"Now," Tracy went on. "Do you have any way of communicating with those bozos outside? If so, I want you to tell them to stay put so nobody gets hurt."