Two days agowas it just two days?I told you about my plan to pick up some new clothing on my way through Scottsdale so I could go to court looking like a bit of a fashion plate in something more sophisticated than what I wear hanging around home in Sedona. I even splurged on a haircut, a manicure, and a pedicure. I wanted to be able to put my best foot (and toes) forward when Fang and I stood in front of the judge to disavow our vows.
The irony is, when I came back to the hotel, I took off my courtroom duds and slipped into something comfortablea T-shirt, a pair of jeans, comfy tennis shoes. I took off my makeup and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. That's how I was dressed when two homicide cops came to ask me to ride along and see if I could positively identify the body of their dead victim. And that's how I looked hours later when the identification ordeal was finally over and I stepped back outside the Riverside County Sheriff's Substation in Indio to return to the hotel.
I have no idea who alerted the media to what was going on. I know for sure someone had already leaked Fang's name. As cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions, someone recognized me and called me by name as well. I'm sure my photo will be all over the news tomorrow, and I'll look as bedraggled as some of those awful mug shots that turn up when some celebrity gets booked for drunk driving.
It's one thing to stand outside the emotional box and report on someone's untimely death for whatever reason. It's something else to be living itto be inside that awful box and trying to make sense of it. Now, because of the way the media works, I'll no longer be reporting on eventsI'll be part of the story.
So this is an early warning for all my cutlooseblog.com fans. I'm sure all kinds of crap is going to hit the fan first thing in the morning. I just want you to know that I'm fine. And I'll keep you posted as we go.
Posted 1:07 A.M., September 17, 2005 by Babe
Scrolling through her e-mail list, Ali could see more than a dozen comments lined up and waiting to be read, but she was too drained to face them.
Go to bed, she told herself, switching off her computer. Tomorrow's another day.
Ali did go to bed then. Not only that, she surprised herself by falling asleep almost immediately. After what seemed like only a matter of minutes, the ringing phone awakened her.
"What in the world is going on?" Edie Larson demanded.
"What are you talking about?" Ali grumbled groggily. "And what time is it?" The room's blackout curtains were pulled shut. In the pitch black room she had to turn over to see the clock, which read 5:35 A.M.
"Why didn't you call me?" Edie continued. "What happened to Paul? And why did you have to do the identification? What about his bride-to-be who isn't?"
"Who told you all this?" Ali asked.
"You did," Edie answered. "In cutloose."
Ali was astonished. It had never occurred to her that her mother might join the Internet world. "You read my blog?" she asked.
"Of course I do," Edie said. "Why wouldn't I? Every morning while I'm waiting for the sweet rolls to rise and when there's no one here in the restaurant to keep me company, I read the whole thing. When Dad and I got Chris that new Mac, he gave us his old one. Hooked it up here in the office, got me an Internet account, the whole nine yards. My Internet handle is sugarloafmama, by the way, but I didn't call to talk about me. I want to know what's going on with you. Tell me everything, and hurry it up. We open in a few minutes."
So Ali told her mother as much as she could rememberthe parts she had put in the blog as well as the parts she'd left out. The truth is, after sitting through the statement she'd given to Detectives Sims and Taylor, Victor had advised her to say nothing in her blog about any of itnothing at all. Feeling a certain loyalty to her readers, Ali had written her blog entry anyway, saying only what she thought would pass muster. She never came right out and said that she had ridden to Indio in the company of the two homicide detectives. And she never breathed a word about hitching a ride back from Jacqueline Cochran Airport with the newest member of Ali's burgeoning troop of attorneys.
In talking to Edie, however, Ali corrected this deliberate oversight by mentioning Victor Angeleri by name, while at the same time somehow glossing over the criminal defense portion of his curriculum vitae.
"You say his name's Victor, Victor Angeleri? What kind of a name is that?" Edie wanted to know.
"Italian, I suppose," Ali answered.
"And he flies his own plane?"
"No. He chartered one." And on the way home, to take my mind off my troubles, gave me an in-depth lesson on Jacqueline Cochran, the lady the airport is named after, and on the Women Airforce Service Pilots of World War II, Ali thought.
"What's he like?" Edie asked. "Old? Young? What?"
"About the same age as Dad, I suppose," Ali said. "And big. He had to use a seat-belt extender in the airplane."
"I don't care one whit about his size," Edie declared. "What I want to know is whether or not he's any good. Now what kind of attorney is he again? Not your divorce attorney," she added. "That's Myra somebody."
Ali wondered how it was Edie Larson could somehow play dumb while simultaneously and unerringly sniffing out Ali's every attempt at subterfuge.
"Not Myra, Helga Myerhoff," Ali corrected. "She was the one handling the divorce proceedings. Victor specializes in criminal defense."
"But why on earth would you need a criminal defense attorney?" Edie wanted to know. "Do the cops think you had something to do with Paul's deaththat you're somehow responsible? How could you be? You were miles away at the time."
Ali remembered the pulsing, telltale glow from that long line of emergency lights that had lit up the desert floor as they streamed through the night toward the scene of the wreck.
Not nearly as many miles away as I should have been, Ali thought.
Victor hadn't wanted her to mention seeing those flashing lights in the course of giving Detectives Sims and Taylor her taped statement, but since they already knew what time she'd left Phoenix and since they already knew what time she'd checked into the hotel, that meant they also knew the approximate time she would have been passing Palm Springs. Consequently, it seemed pointless to skip over that part. The truth was she had seen the flashing lights. She would have had to have been blind not to, and lying about that in an official statement seemed both pointless and stupid.
"The cops probably do suspect me," Ali said, trying to deliver the words in a casual, offhand manner that she hoped would throw Edie off course. "But Victor says not to worry. It's just routine. That's what homicide detectives do. To begin with, they look at everyone. Then gradually they eliminate the ones who didn't do it until they arrive at whoever did."
"So you're saying for sure that Paul was murdered?" Edie asked.
Ali sighed. "Yes. When Victor and I left Indio, they hadn't yet released any details about the case because April hadn't been notified, but I'm sure she has been by now. If that's the case, the story is probably all over the airwaves. I was asleep, though, so I haven't had a chance to check."
The idea that the questioning was routine did nothing to calm Edie's outrage. "This is unbelievable!" she announced. "I should never have let you drive over there on your own. Never. The subject came up before you left. Dad said I should probably pack up and go along, but then I let you talk me out of it. Big mistake. There are times women need their mothers with them, Alison. This turns out to be one of them."
In the background Ali heard a door open and close. "Speak of the devil," Edie said. "Here's your father now. I'm in the office, Bob," she called to her husband. "Ali's on the phone. Come listen to this. You're not going to believe it."