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though I hate that new Annette person. Anyway, it said a man named Paul Grayson, some network bigwig, is missing. I seem to remember that was your husband’s name. So is this your Paul Grayson or is it just someone with the same name?
    V ELMA T IN L AGUNA
    No matter who he is, he isn’t my Paul Grayson, Ali thought, but she sent Velma an immediate response.
    Dear Velma,
    Thanks for bringing this to my attention. The missing man most likely is “my” Paul Grayson. Once I have more details on the situation, I’ll try to let you know.
    B ABE

{ CHAPTER 3 }
    F or the next while, Ali surfed the Net. Her years in L.A. had taught her that Southern California news outlets had an insatiable appetite for anything involving the entertainment industry—movies or television. Paul Grayson was high enough up the network food chain that it wasn’t long before Ali found what she was looking for, even though it offered little more information than she had gleaned from the earlier news promo.
    NBC EXEC MISSING
    Paul Grayson, long considered NBC’s West Coast go-to guy, has gone missing after an early and abrupt departure from his own bachelor party at the stylish Pink Swan on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood. His red Porsche Carrera was found stripped and abandoned in an apartment parking lot in Banning early this afternoon.
    There it was again. Everybody seemed free to refer to Paul as a bachelor, despite the inconvenient fact that he was still legally married—to Ali. And what exactly was this “stylish” Pink Swan? Probably some cheesy strip joint or pole-dancing outfit. Whatever it was, the name sounded suitably sleazy. The next paragraph, however, shook her.
    A spokesman for LAPD’s Missing Persons Unit said they have reason to believe that Mr. Grayson has been the victim of foul play.
    “Foul play.” Ali repeated the words aloud. The very possibility that Paul had been victimized made Ali’s earlier conversation with Detective Little seem much more ominous.
    Jake Maxwell, who co-hosted the bachelor party, said the guest of honor departed early on in the proceedings. “Somewhere around ten or so, Paul went outside to take a phone call and didn’t come back. Everyone was having a good time. It was a while before anyone noticed that he hadn’t returned.”
    Because everyone was too blasted to notice, Ali thought. The news item ended. For several long minutes afterward, Ali wondered what, if anything, she should do. Finally, however, it seemed reasonable to let her divorce attorney know that Paul had now been declared a missing person. Ali picked up her cell phone and dialed Helga Myerhoff’s number.
    “What’s up?” Helga asked.
    “I thought you should know Paul didn’t just miss his court appearance this morning,” Ali told her attorney. “He disappeared from what they’re calling his ‘bachelor party’ last night. There’s some suspicion that foul play may be involved. His Carrera was found abandoned in an apartment house parking lot in Banning this afternoon.”
    Helga was all business. “How did you find this out?”
    “Part of it I learned just now from reading a breaking-news Web site. The rest of it, though, came from a phone call from Detective Carolyn Little of the LAPD Missing Persons Unit.”
    “Why did she call you?” Helga asked. “And, beyond that, how did she even know to call you?”
    “Since I hadn’t seen Paul in more than six months, I thought it was odd that she’d be asking me for information, but Ted Grantham evidently told the detective I was in town and where I was staying.”
    Ali heard a slight rustling on the phone and could picture Helga standing behind her desk and squaring her shoulders, bristling to her diminutive but tough-as-nails five foot two. “What exactly did this detective say? And what’s her name again?”
    “Detective Carolyn Little, LAPD Missing Persons. She asked when I had arrived, why I was here, where I was staying, when did I last see Paul. All