Fatal Error

22

Los Angeles, California

Ali Reynolds didn’t awaken in her Los Angeles hotel room until after ten the next morning. As soon as she heard the rumble of planes overhead, she was surprised that she had been able to sleep through the racket. She ordered coffee and breakfast from room service. Knowing she needed to check on Velma before showing up at her home, Ali dialed Velma’s phone number in Laguna Beach and then waited for someone-a hospice worker, most likely-to answer.

What if I waited too long? Ali wondered.

“Velma Trimble’s residence.”

The voice on the other end of the line was brisk and businesslike.

“My name is Ali Reynolds,” she began. “I was told Velma wanted to see me-”

“Ali? It’s Maddy-Velma’s friend, Maddy Watkins. I’m so glad you called.”

When Velma had defied her cancer diagnosis by signing up for that round-the-world private jet cruise, she had been assigned a stranger, Maddy Watkins, as roommate by the travel agency. By the end of the trip, Maddy and Velma had become fast friends. Maddy, a wealthy widow from Washington State, was an aging dynamo who traveled everywhere by car in the company of her two golden retrievers, Aggie and Daphne. When she and Velma had been invited to attend Chris and Athena’s wedding, the two dogs had come along to Sedona.

“How are your kids?” Maddy asked. “Aren’t those twins due most any day now?”

“Soon,” Ali said. “But how’s Velma?”

“The dogs and I drove down and have been here for the past three days. Aggie and Daphne weren’t trained to be service dogs, but try to tell them that. Aggie has barely left Velma’s bedside. By rights her son should be the one who’s here supervising the hospice workers, but he’s not. If you don’t mind my saying so, Carson is a real piece of work. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he and my own son were twins. Anyway, I believe Carson is a little afraid of me, and rightly so. He was ready to pull the plug on his mother four years ago when she first got her cancer diagnosis. And I don’t blame her at all for wanting people with her right now who don’t have a big vested interest in what’s going on.”

“What is going on?” Ali asked.

“She’s dying, of course,” Maddy said brusquely. “But she’s interested in tying up a few loose ends before that happens, you being a case in point.”

“I flew into L.A. last night,” Ali said. “If it’s convenient, I could come by later this morning. It’ll take an hour or so for me to drive there, depending on traffic.”

“Midafternoon is a good time,” Maddy said. “She takes a nap after lunch. If you could be here about three, it would be great.”

“Three it is,” Ali said. There was a knock on the door.

“Room service.”

“My breakfast is here, Maddy. See you in a few hours.”

Ali let the server into the room. Over coffee, orange juice, and a basket of breakfast breads, Ali opened the High Noon envelope, pulled out a wad of papers, and began to read.