Trial By Fire

“Have they found anything?” Ali asked.

“Plenty,” Dave answered. “Naturally Do

“Sounds like pretty much the full-meal deal as far as Mimi’s clothing is concerned,” Ali said.

“That’s right,” Dave agreed. “It’s also my understanding that someone from the ATF may be dropping by the hospital sometime this morning. They’re hoping Hal Cooper will be able to identify the clothing as belonging to his wife.”

Ali remembered that Hal had told him Mimi had two rings-her wedding ring and her no-wedding ring.

“Did they mention finding any jewelry in the car?” she asked.

“Nope,” Dave answered. “No sign of that, at least not so far. I’m sure the crime lab is going over it inch by inch, looking for prints and any other trace evidence. Do

“Did Sheriff Maxwell say anything about wanting me back home as well?” Ali asked.

“Not to me,” Dave answered. “I think he’s still hoping you’ll be able to keep an eye on whatever the ATF is up to down here. He remains convinced that Do

Great, Ali thought. Now I’m working undercover for both Sister Anselm and Sheriff Maxwell.

In a sudden flurry of activity, two people-a man and a woman-stepped off the elevator. The woman, a tall, willowy brunette, was complaining loudly to someone on her cell phone. The close family resemblance suggested that the man was her brother.

“I’ve been here for hours,” she said. “My poor brother drove all night to get here, but we have yet to be allowed inside the room. Hal is in there, and so is that busybody nurse or nun or whatever. The two of them come and go as they wish, but we can’t? It’s a pile of crap!”

“I believe Mimi’s son and daughter just got off the elevator,” Ali said. “I should go.”

“Don’t speak to them,” Dave advised. “Do the same thing you did yesterday. If you sit there with your computer on your lap, you’ll disappear into the woodwork. No one will know you’re there. In the meantime, I’m on my way north, but after hearing Hal’s description of Mimi’s two offspring, I’ll be interested in knowing what they have to say for themselves. Let me know if they mention anything about Mimi’s missing painting. I’ve been told it’s plug ugly, but it’s also worth a ton of money. It’s by someone named Klee. That’s spelled K-L-E-E, but it’s evidently pronounced like C-L-A-Y. I’ve never heard of the guy. Have you?”

Ali was stu

“Right. That’s the one.”

“Mimi Cooper had an original Paul Klee hanging over her fireplace in a house that didn’t have so much as a burglar alarm?”

“Oh, they had an alarm, all right,” Dave said, “but according to Hal, Maggie kept tripping the motion detector and triggering false alarms. They figured that since they had the dog, they didn’t need to turn on the alarm when they were home.”

“Wrong,” Ali said.

“Yes,” Dave agreed. “They’re not the only people to make that mistake.”

“Tell me about the painting,” Ali said.

“Winston, Mimi’s first husband, evidently gave her the painting as an a

“When Mimi was getting ready to divorce him, though, Winston wanted the painting to be included in their community property settlement. Had the divorce become final, Mimi might have lost it. From a financial point of view, Winston Langley did her a huge favor by dying first. Sound familiar?”

It was all too familiar. “Don’t remind me,” she said.

“Sorry,” Dave said. “Back to the painting. Hal says it looks like a paper mat little kids make sometimes by weaving strips of paper together, only this one is done with paint. Hal Cooper doesn’t like it much. He claims it’s nothing but a bunch of colored squares.”

“That fits,” Ali said, trying to remember what she had learned in her long-ago humanities class. “I believe Klee was a cubist, among other things. From Switzerland originally. I think he died sometime around the begi

“How do you know all this stuff?” Dave asked.

“I’m a liberal arts major, remember,” she returned with a laugh. “My head is full of all kinds of useless information-cotton, hay, and rags, as Lerner and Lowe would say. Which reminds me, what made you come up with that phony art history class story yesterday? It was brilliant.”

“The marine corps isn’t long on art history,” Dave replied. “I’ve always thought about taking a class in it. I just never got around to it.”

The sound of raised voices near the nurses’ station caught Ali’s attention. “Something’s going on down the hall,” she told him. “I need to go and assume the position.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “Talk to you later.”

Ali closed her phone and went back down the hall. While she’d been speaking to Dave, Agent Robson had arrived and had planted himself in front of the counter, where he was arguing with the charge nurse and the ward clerk. Unobserved by either of them, Ali quietly took a seat.

“If I can’t see Mimi Cooper, then I want to talk with her husband, or with that other woman,” Robson declared. “You know the one I mean, the woman who was here yesterday. She’s a nun or a nurse, I’m not sure which.”

“That would be Sister Anselm. She’s Ms. Cooper’s patient advocate.”

“Call her, then,” Robson ordered. “Tell her Agent Gary Robson with the ATF needs to see her. Immediately.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible,” the charge nurse said.

It was the same nurse who had dealt with Robson the day before. If he recognized her, he gave no sign of it, but Ali was sure the charge nurse knew exactly who he was, and she also had his number. Her “sorry” didn’t sound sorry at all.

“You’ll have to wait until Sister Anselm comes out,” the nurse said. “We’ve been advised that we’re not to put through any calls at this time.”

Sister Anselm hadn’t responded to Ali’s earlier text message, but she was sure it had gone through.

“I really must speak to her,” Robson insisted.

Ali opened her phone and sent a second message.

Robson’s here. In w8ing rm. Wants to see you. Mimi’s kids r here, 2.

This time Sister Anselm’s response was immediate.

Thanks. B rt there.

Ali opened her briefcase and booted up her computer. It turned out she had forgotten to charge the battery the night before. When she pulled out a power cord and started looking around for an electrical outlet, James’s friend came to her rescue. Taking the plug end of the cord from her, he moved a chair aside and plugged it into a wall socket.

“Thank you,” Ali said. “What’s your name?”

“Mark,” he said. “Mark Levy. James is my best friend.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Ali said.

Mark ducked his head self-consciously when she said the words. Ali suspected he was hiding a tear, but a moment later he squared his shoulders and faced her again.

“I’m going down to get something from the cafeteria. Do you want anything?”