most positive people Ali knew.
“I’m sure she’d say, ‘Brighten the corner where you are,’” Ali said with a laugh, remembering some of her aunt Evie’s Auntie Mame antics. That particular line had come from one of Aunt Evie’s favorite hymns, and it had been her personal watchword.
“Exactly,” Bob said.
“What do you say?” Ali asked. She liked her parents and was interested in their opinions.
“If there’s a rattler in your yard, wouldn’t you rather know where he is?”
Ali nodded.
“So make friends with your enemies,” Bob advised. “It’ll surprise the hell out of them.”
When the barbecue ended, Ali went home to her new place on Manzanita Hills Road. She had taken a crumbling jewel of midcentury modern architecture that had never been updated and brought it into the twenty-first century. She had invested money, time, and effort in the process. Leland, who had more or less come with the house, had fought the remodeling war at her side. Now he and Ali were both enjoying the fruits of their labors—a job well done.
Leland had taken Memorial Day weekend off, and the house seemed impossibly quiet without him. Ali went from room to room, turning on lights and music. She settled into one of the comfy armchairs in the library and picked up the textbook she was still studying. A few minutes later she was joined by Samantha, her sixteen-pound one-eyed, one-eared tabby cat. Sam clambered up into the matching chair, circled three times, then sank down silently to wait for bedtime.
Ali hadn’t made it through two whole pages when the phone rang. Checking caller ID, she answered with a smile in her voice.
“Hi, Mom,” she said. “What’s up?”
Ali already knew that once the barbecue ended, Bob Larson would have immediately reported the gist of his conversation with Ali to his wife.
“You should have told us about all this the minute it started,” Edie scolded.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Ali said.
“Worry? Of course we’re worried,” Edie said. “One of those practical jokes could go way too far. Your father is right. Youneed to make friends of your enemies. Who’s the worst one of the bunch?”
Not a hard question to answer, Ali thought.
“That would be Holly Mesina,” she said. “She’s a clerk in the public office over in Prescott. She’s also best friends with the evidence clerk who’s out on administrative leave.”
“With Sally Harrison?” Edie Larson asked.
It came as no surprise to Ali that her mother would be tuned in to all the sheriff’s department’s goings-on. Ali sometimes wondered if running the Sugarloaf Cafe wasn’t merely a cover for Edie Larson’s real job of keeping track of everyone else’s business. She had an impressive network of unnamed sources, and her up-to-the-minute intelligence was often uncannily accurate.
“Didn’t Sally go to school with you?” Edie asked now. “I thought she graduated a year or so after you did.”
“I don’t remember anyone named Sally Harrison,” Ali replied.
Edie sighed. “Don’t be silly. Harrison is her married name. I believe her maiden name was Laird. That’s right. Sally Laird. Her father drove a dairy truck, for Shamrock. He was just as proud of his little girl as he could be. Never stopped talking about her, especially when she got elected homecoming queen.”
Given her mother’s hint, Ali did remember. The name Sally Laird made more sense than Sally Harrison did.
A cute little blond, Ali thought. Right about now, her father’s probably not nearly so proud of his darling daughter.
“Dad says you have to drive down to Congress tomorrow,” Edie continued. “What time are you planning to leave?”
Ali was somewhat taken aback by the seemingly abrupt change of subject.
“I’ll probably head out a little after eight,” Ali said. “I expectto drive down through Prescott. There’s road construction on Yarnell Hill, so I may come back home the long way around, through Wickenburg
Benjamin Blech, Roy Doliner