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  Salina passed around copies of a memo to everyone at the table. “The first woman, Joanna Richardson, suffered from kidney disease. She was killed in a hit-and-run while taking a stroll in her Leimert Park neighborhood. Four days before that, an elderly woman, Mildred Matthews, died in a suspicious fire at her home in Compton. If you count Veronika Myers and her mother, that makes four deaths tied to Live Now. I’m sorry, but I don’t think they were accidents. These Live Now guys may only be pressuring dying people in other states, but in California they’re killing ’em.”

  “I knew it, I knew it!” Zack said, pumping his fist in the air. “This is the case I’ve been praying for.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” Angela said. “If we look into this, we’ll have to team up with the D.A.’s Office.”

  Zack huffed. “Well, we just have to be careful about how much information we share. We don’t want them to get all the credit when we crack this murder ring.”

  “We don’t even know whether it is a murder ring yet. Let’s just hope no one else is killed.” Angela turned to Jon. “When you go undercover, I want you to be careful.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m a federal agent packing heat, remember?”

  Angela smiled to herself. The Postal Inspection Service wasn’t exactly the FBI.

  “Salina, this is great work,” Angela said. “Did you find out anything about the brokers who work for Live Now?”

  Salina’s face lit up. “If you love me now, you’re really, really, really going to love me after you hear this.”

  “Spill it,” Zack said anxiously.

  “The broker who sold the policies of the people I just mentioned recently left the company. The guy who replaced him just got his license. If this company is as unscrupulous as it appears to be, they hired the right man for the job.” Salina smiled. “When we bust their operation, his involvement is going to attract some big headlines.”

  “Just tell us what you found out,” Zack said, sounding annoyed.

  “First he’s a lawyer,” Salina said, smiling. “His name is Waverly Sloan.”

  “Yes!” Zack exclaimed. “It’s always nice when we can put one of our own behind bars.”

  “That’s not the best part,” Salina continued. “I did some digging. He’s not just a lawyer, he’s a recently disbarred lawyer.”

  Zack and Jon responded at the same time. “Jackpot!”

  PART TWO

  * * *

  It’s All Good

  CHAPTER 16

  Waverly stood on the front porch of his magnificent new home in Palos Verdes Estates, watching the moving van back out of the driveway. His face glistened with pride.

  In just over two months as a viatical broker, he’d earned enough money to render his financial problems a distant memory. His aggressive marketing efforts were so effective that terminally ill patients in need of cash began ringing his phone off the hook.

  Two clients who had life expectancies of less than six months had died within days. The investors who purchased their policies, thrilled with the fast return on their investment, were clamoring to hand over even more money. An oncologist he’d given a finder’s fee for referring a patient, even came on board as an investor. Waverly now had his own source of ready cash and didn’t need to rely on investors from Live Now.

  Deidra walked up behind him and circled her arms around his waist. “Admiring your kingdom?”

  Waverly smiled. “You might say that.”

  Just a few weeks ago, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to pay the mortgage on his townhouse and now he was living in a six-thousand-square-foot mansion. The doctor who had owned the house dropped dead of a heart attack, both underinsured and heavily in debt. His elderly wife was close to losing the place and just wanted out. Waverly gave her a few thousand dollars and worked out a deal to lease the house with an option to buy. Their townhouse in Culver City was now on the market.

  Waverly followed Deidra back inside. The living room, an impressive circular expanse with a twenty-foot ceiling, was crowded with boxes and new furniture still encased in plastic. They had just returned from five days in Cabo, where they did nothing but lay on the beach, make love and shop.

  Deidra headed for the kitchen to confer with the interior dec-orator, who was busy directing her team of helpers. Waverly opened the French doors and stepped out onto the veranda, which overlooked the crystal blue waters of the Palos Verdes coastline. He liked the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks below. He still couldn’t believe the turn his life had taken. Not only had he earned over a hundred grand in commissions from the sale of six policies, but there were another five deals set to be inked in the next day or so. On top of that, he’d actually been helping people. For once, all was right with his life.

  “Knock, knock. May we come in?”

  Waverly glanced back toward the living room just as his in-laws knocked on the open front door. He had sworn Deidra to secrecy about the house until today. Waverly wanted to see Leon’s reaction for himself.

  “Welcome,” he said, returning to the living room and waving them inside.

  Leon whistled and did a slow three-sixty turn. “This is quite a place. Business must be pretty darn good.”

  Waverly smiled. “I’m doing okay.” He enjoyed moving just a couple of miles from his pompous father-in-law and buying a house that dwarfed his.

  Leon walked over to the French doors and took in the ocean view. Leon had a view of his neighbor’s backyard.

  Deidra came bouncing into the room and rushed to hug her mother. “Don’t you just love it?”

  “It’s beautiful!” her mother cooed, appearing genuinely happy for her daughter.

  Leon stepped out onto the veranda. “This is really something.” The compliment was not nearly as exuberant as his wife’s. “This place had to cost you over two million.”

  “Close,” Waverly said, not bothering to explain that he was essentially a renter.

  The housekeeper appeared and asked Deidra what room she should start next.

  “You have a housekeeper now?” Leon asked. “A few weeks ago, you couldn’t afford a trip to Paris and now you’ve got a multimillion dollar house and a housekeeper? Did you hit the lottery and forget to tell us?”

  “Leon, stop it,” his wife, Myrtle, scolded.

  Waverly would never understand how a man with so much could envy him for attaining the same, all to the benefit of his daughter. But in Leon’s eyes, Waverly’s increase in stature somehow lowered his. As usual, Deidra stepped in as peacemaker.

  “C’mon, Daddy.” She took her father by the arm. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

  After dinner delivered by a nearby Italian restaurant, Leon cornered Waverly alone on the veranda.

  “So tell me about the big case?”

  Waverly folded his arms and grinned. “No big case, Leon. In fact, I’m no longer practicing law.”

  His father-in-law’s face flushed with astonishment. “Really. Exactly what business are you in?”

  “Insurance investments,” he said.

  “Really? Tell me more.”

  “I find people interested in investing in certain insurance products. As the broker, I earn a commission on every sale. The bulk of my clients are wealthy doctors with too much money on their hands.”

  “Interesting,” Leon said eagerly. “Maybe I’d like to get in on it.”

  That was not a request Waverly was willing to entertain. He didn’t want his father-in-law anywhere near his new cash cow. “Sorry, Leon, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix family and business. And anyway, you already have more money than you can spend.”

  “You can never have too much money,” Leon said with a chuckle, shoving both hands deep into his pockets. “I’m serious, I’d like to—”

  “Sorry, Leon. Can’t help you.” Waverly gave him a patroniz-ing pat on the back, then pulled open the French doors. “Let’s head back inside. I think we’re having tiramisu for dessert.”<
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  CHAPTER 17

  Angela browsed a rack of wedding gowns at the Dare to be a Diva bridal shop on Melrose, while waiting for her mother and sister to arrive. She looked up just as her sister entered the store.

  “Dang, girl!” Jada grabbed both of Angela’s hands and lifted them in the air so she could get a better view. “How much weight did you lose?”

  Angela beamed with pride. “Seventeen pounds.”

  “Tyra Banks ain’t got nothing on you!” She gave her sister a hug. “Finally, Mama can stop bugging you about losing weight for the wedding. Has she seen you yet?”

  “Today’ll be the first time.”

  Jada turned up her nose. “Knowing her, she’ll still have something snotty to say. Just ignore her, okay?”

  “I will,” Angela promised. “As long as you do the same.”

  Jada laughed. “That’s asking way too much.”

  Jada and their mother, Lola, bickered constantly. Their already strained relationship worsened after Jada flunked out of Yale, in large part, because she spent more time playing dorm hairstylist than studying English Lit. That was several years ago, but Lola Evans still hadn’t forgiven her firstborn for selecting the Vidal Sassoon Academy over the Ivy League.

  They took seats in a waiting area. “You really going through with this?” Jada asked.

  Angela picked up a Brides magazine from the table. “Please don’t start.”

  Despite her growing attraction to Dre, Angela had finally decided to honor her commitment to Cornell. They’d just spent a long weekend in Santa Barbara and actually had a wonderful time.

  “You’re not even excited about the wedding,” Jada said.

  “Yes, I am.” Angela sounded more defensive than she meant to.

  Jada smacked her lips. “I’ll never understand how you can be such a barracuda in the courtroom and such a wuss when it comes to your personal life. You’re only marrying Cornell because your clock is ticking. If you want a baby, then have one. It’s not like you couldn’t take care of it. You don’t need a husband.”

  “I know that.” But that’s not the way I want to do it.

  “The wedding is less than three months away,” Jada continued, “and you’re just getting around to ordering your dress. You don’t want to marry Cornell, but you know Mama would have a hissy fit if you backed out. You need to stop letting her run your life.”

  Angela shifted in her seat. “She’s not running my life.”

  Jada made an exasperated sound with her lips. “I couldn’t believe you let Mama pick your wedding colors. Burgundy and grey? Ugh. You hate burgundy and I’ve never seen you in grey.”

  Before Angela could come up with a retort, Lola Evans floated into the shop in a cloud of rose-scented perfume. “How are my girls?” She bent to give each of them a big air kiss.

  After hitting sixty, their mother lost her attraction to solid colors. Today she was wearing a silk blouse that was a neon mix of orange, brown and yellow. Her shoulder length hair was gathered on top of her head in a long ponytail.

  Lola was barely seated before she pulled several bridal magazines from a big, orange purse. “I’ve found some beautiful gowns I want you to see.” She opened a magazine to a page flagged with a Post-it Note. “What do you think?”

  Every dress pictured on the two-page spread had a high neckline and way too much lace for Angela. Now that she was almost back into a size eight, she was looking forward to wearing something a little sexier.

  “Well?” her mother said in anxious anticipation.

  Angela hesitated.

  “Look at her face, Mama,” Jada interceded. “She hates them.”

  “Your sister does not need you to talk for her,” Lola said, her tone snippy.

  Angela silently gritted her teeth. Yes, I do. “They’re beautiful, but I had my heart set on a strapless dress.”

  “Oh, no, no, no, no, no.” Lola pressed her hand to her chest. “Not for an afternoon wedding. And honey, you don’t have the arms for that style of dress.”

  “Don’t have the arms?” Jada said, scrunching up her face. “Mama, have you even looked at her? Angela, stand up.”

  When Angela didn’t move, Jada grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

  Lola leaned back to take in her daughter’s dramatic weight loss. “Oh, you lost some weight. You look nice, baby.”

  “Nice?” Jada said. “Is that all you have to say? She looks amazing. And I’m not aware of any book that says afternoon weddings and strapless gowns don’t mix.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you had picked up a book since you dropped out of Yale,” Lola huffed.

  Before Jada could snipe back, Angela flagged one of the bridal consultants. “We’re ready to get started now.”

  “How is Cornell, honey?” her mother asked, as they walked back to the fitting room.

  “Fine.” Angela wasn’t in the mood to hear her mother go on and on about how lucky she was to be marrying a man like Cornell.

  “I guess he’s certainly glad you finally lost weight.” Her mother’s words stung, but Angela didn’t need to respond because Jada charged to her defense.

  “Mama!” Jada nearly screamed. “I can’t believe you said that to her.”

  As her mother and sister commenced another round, Angela checked out of the conversation. Jada was right. She wasn’t excited about the wedding or about marrying Cornell. Would she feel differently if she had been engaged to Dre?

  Her sister nudged her. “What in the world are you smiling at?”

  “Nothing.” Angela didn’t even realize she’d been smiling.

  Several feet away, her mother meandered along an aisle of hideous debutante dresses. “Come take a look at these, baby,” Lola called out.

  Jada shot Angela a look that challenged her to speak her mind.

  Instead, Angela groaned and slogged her way over.

  CHAPTER 18

  The driver eased the black Crown Victoria into the driveway of Erickson’s stately Hancock Park home. Relaxing in the backseat, he drank the last of his scotch, grimaced, and braced himself for another show.

  After tipping the driver, Erickson climbed out and grabbed his carry-on bag. He had just returned from Washington where he’d undergone a grueling round of meetings and interviews. The job was his. He could feel it. Without that knowledge, he would not have had the strength to carry on with this charade.

  Dropping his bag just inside the entryway, he found Corky waiting to greet him. “Hey there, boy!” Erickson reached down and massaged the dog’s back. “I bet you missed me.”

  He started for the bedroom, but heard the sound of the television wafting from the family room and headed there first. As expected, his sister-in-law, Sophia, sat in front of the television set, glued to an episode of Forensic Files. She was addicted to true crime shows. Tales of murder and mayhem actually seemed to delight her.

  “Welcome home.” She managed to face him without taking her eyes off the television screen. Physically, his wife bore little resemblance to her older sister. Sophia’s dark brown hair hung heavily down her back. She never wore makeup and her long bangs nearly covered her green eyes, which made her resemble some shaggy animal. It was completely understandable why she had never married.

  “How’s Claire feeling today?” Erickson asked.

  This time, Sophia glanced away from the TV screen, but not for more than a couple of seconds. “Fine.”

  Erickson wanted to scream that Claire was not fine. Nothing around his house was fine.

  He often wondered how much Claire had confided in Sophia. Did she know about the DVD? He was fairly certain that she did not. Appearances were important to Claire. She would not have shared his transgressions even with her only sister. And if Sophia had known, he would have sensed it. He’d never met anyone more transparent.

  Erickson entered the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Except for a small lamp on the nightstand, the room was almost movie-theater dark and reeked of despair. Clair
e was watching Desperate Housewives. Her viewing habits were as atrocious as her sister’s.

  Claire’s mood swings had been growing more and more severe. Erickson wondered what temperament he would face today.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, reluctant to test the waters.

  “I’m fine,” Claire replied, just above a whisper. He was thankful that the darkness prevented a clear view of her face.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Erickson took her hand. She did not pull away, which he interpreted as a positive sign. He was increasingly at a loss for words in Claire’s presence. It would have been nice to share his excitement about his trip to Washington. But he would not give his wife more ammunition to assassinate him with.

  Everything was in place for the surgery. The payout from the policy—two hundred and fifty thousand dollars—had already been deposited into their bank account. Claire had been examined by a surgeon, who confirmed that she was a suitable candidate for the procedure. Scheduling the date was the only loose end.

  Over the last few days, however, Claire had become noncommittal whenever he brought up the subject.

  Erickson awkwardly caressed her hand. He knew he should proceed slowly, but he did not have time for delays. He needed Claire’s agreement to move forward with the procedure.

  “Have you given any more thought to when you’d like to schedule the surgery?” He despised the spinelessness in his voice.

  Claire laughed softly. “Couldn’t you wait five minutes before you begin badgering me again?”

  Badgering you? he wanted to scream. I’m trying to save your goddamn life!

  “I don’t understand.” He stroked the back of her hand. Maybe she was just nervous. “The surgery is your best hope. It’s our best hope.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Claire announced, easing her hand from his. “It’s a waste of money. We should just face reality. I’m going to die.”