Desert Shadows (9781615952250) by Betty Webb Page B

some made.” She started to get up, whereupon her two cats yowled in protest.
    I waved away the offer of tea, taking care not to dislodge Black Bart, whose purrs now revealed themselves to be catarrhal snorts. “Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Alden-Ta…, uh, Zachary, if that would be possible.”
    She shook her head, glossy brown hair rippling like a waterfall at midnight. With her deeply tanned face and vivid blue eyes, the effect was stunning, and I wondered if she had once been a model. If so, judging from the shambles around her, she’d certainly married down.
    â€œZach’s at the office. He’s the managing editor of Patriot’s Blood Press, you know, and with Gloriana dead, there is a mountain of details for him to tackle. Canceling most of the summer catalog, for one. Not to speak ill of the dead or anything, but you wouldn’t believe some of the garbage his grandmother was about to publish.”
    Neither Megan nor Zach sounded like National Alliance recruitment material, so I fished the flier out of my carry-all and thrust it at her. “This was stuck on your front door.”
    She looked at it and scowled. “Fucking Nazis.” Then she wadded the flier up into a ball and rolled it across the floor, where several cats began to fight over shredding rights. “Jesus, to think that after all we’ve been through, Americans can still hate each other.”
    â€œWhy do you think the National Alliance picked this neighborhood to recruit from?” Unlike North Scottsdale’s mostly White enclaves, South Scottsdale was racially mixed, with a large Hispanic and Asian contingent.
    â€œProbably because of the economy,” Megan answered. “There’ve been a lot of layoffs around here, and these Aryan knuckleheads believe it’s because minorities have taken all the jobs. The fact that corporate corruption might have something to do with it never enters their pointy heads. That’s what Zach says, anyway, and I totally agree with him.”
    Given such a liberal mind-set, I wondered how her husband could bear to work for Patriot’s Blood in the first place. This wasn’t the time to ask.
    Instead, I said, “It’s nice to hear that your husband is making some changes at Patriot’s Blood. So he inherits?”
    â€œOf course. He’s executive editor and publisher now, which is only right. Other than Sandra, Vicky, and the aunts, he’s Gloriana’s only surviving relative.”
    â€œVicky?”
    Megan brushed a cat hair off her cheek. “Victoria. Gloriana’s daughter. But given her refusal to run Patriot’s Blood, the chances of her inheriting anything sizeable have always been minimal. Same for Gloriana’s older sisters, Leila and Lavelle. Identical twins. I heard through the family grapevine that Gloriana was thinking about taking over their affairs, but I don’t know exactly why. They’re not senile. Anyway, as I was saying, most of the estate comes to Zach.”
    She looked around at her wreck of a house. “Gloriana’s death is sad, of course, and don’t think I don’t care, because I do. But with the baby coming and everything else going on around here, we really need a bigger place. Zach’s moving us into the Hacienda, up by the Paradise Valley Country Club. I’ll admit that I’m a little worried about how those folks will react to my menagerie, but maybe we can work it out. The Hacienda is isolated and the lot’s certainly big enough. Twenty rooms on three acres.”
    Megan and her husband would need every inch of it, too. I had already counted seventeen cats and six dogs. I couldn’t get a fix on the rabbits, because they stayed on the move. Or hop.
    Animals weren’t the only problem in the house, though. Several overflowing, mismatched bookcases lined the battered walls, with even more books stacked in tall columns on the fur-covered carpet. A