by J. A. Jance
“Who’s in charge of ordering supplies?” Joanna asked.
“I am.”
“Well, order some then. I want pencils.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I want you to have whoever is in charge of Motor Pool to make arrangements for me to have a vehicle, one with a radio.”
“What else?”
Joanna studied the young receptionist. Twenty two or twenty-three at the most, Kristin Marsten bristled with ill-disguised hostility. Up to a point, Joanna understood that. It was a necessary part of the way politics worked. When someone new won an election and took over the helm of an elected office there was always a period of adjustment with the staff, a time when, although loyalties were shifting, the work still had to be done.
“Have you ever worked for a woman before?” Joanna asked.
Startled, Kristin lowered her eyes and shifted on her feet. “Not really. Why?”
“I was just wondering,” Joanna said. “You enjoyed working for Mr. Voland, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Kristin said. “Very much.”
“Let me ask you a question. When he was in this office, did you ever bring him coffee?”
“Yes. Sometimes. He likes his black.”
“And Ernie Carpenter?”
“He takes his black, too.”
“I see,” Joanna said, leaning back in the chair.
“That makes three of us. All black. We’ll just continue the tradition then, if you don’t mind. And since the three of us have already had a very long morning, why don’t you bring in three cups of black coffee as soon as Ernie and Dick get here.”
Kristin started toward the door. “Is that all?”
“One more question. Why exactly did you come to work here?”
Kristin shrugged. “It was a job, I guess. But I kinda thought it would be interesting, being in law enforcement.”
“And is it?”
“Have you ever thought about doing anything more around here rather than just working as a receptionist? Have you thought about maybe being a deputy or doing something in Dispatch? Something responsible that would give you a chance at better pay?”
Kristin shook her mane of hair. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I mean, being a dispatcher is really serious stuff. Nobody ever takes me seriously. I’m not really an airhead, but you know all those blonde jokes, and I…”
“It’s difficult for men to take you seriously when they’re spending all their time trying to look down your blouse or up your skirt,” Joanna returned. “By the way, that’s a very nice set of underwear you have on today. I particularly like that shade of turquoise, especially for a bra and matching panties. I’m sure the guys around here like them, too. I’ve noticed several of them looking. It’s possible, though, if you want the men to take you seriously, that a longer skirt would help.”
Shocked, Kristin opened her mouth, but no words came out. Blushing furiously, she spun around and nearly ran over Dick Voland in her rush to escape Joanna’s office and her steady, appraising gaze.
“What’s the matter with Kristin?” Dick asked, as he shambled in and sank down into one of the side chairs.
“I believe it’s called culture shock,” Joanna replied. “Where’s Ernie?”
“He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Thanks for having the office ready for me to move into, Dick,” Joanna said. “That was thoughtful of you. I don’t know when you had time.”
The chief deputy shrugged grudgingly. “No big thing,” he said. Although Joanna knew it was.
Ernie appeared moments later. The man may have spent the entire morning grubbing around at a crime scene in a pair of much-used sweats and tennies, but by the time he appeared in Joanna’s office, he was wearing a well-pressed suit, a tie, and a stiffly starched white shirt, to say nothing of highly polished wing tips. Looking at him, Joanna was glad she’d taken the time to go home and clean up.
“What’s going on?” he asked irritably. “I’m busy as hell.”
“I’m sure you are, but we’ve got a press conference coming up in a few minutes,” Joanna told him.
“Since when?”
“Since I called it. This is a big case, and we’re going to handle it in a way that won’t have the press tearing us apart. Dick will be running the show, but I want a united front on what he says and what he doesn’t.”
Kristin walked in right then, bringing the three cups of coffee. Wordlessly, she delivered Joanna’s cup to the desk. When she turned back to the two men, she paused for a moment in front of the coffee table, struggling to find a way to deposit the cups on the low surface of the table without having to bend over to do it. She finally solved the problem by passing the cups directly to their hands.
“So where do we stand?” Joanna asked, once Kristin left the room.
“Two stiffs for the price of one,” Ernie Carpenter replied. “I’ve got Harold Patterson’s body pulled up to the surface. The coroner has taken charge of him, and we’ve packed out most of the skeleton in a body bag. The sump pump is doing the job, but it’s still too wet down there to finish searching the bottom of the glory hole.”
“Any possible I.D. on the skeleton?”
“None.”
“Cause of death?”
“Looks like a rock to the head to me, but that’s Just a wild guess.”
“Do you have any leads on either case?”
“Not really. But how could I? For Pete’s sake, I’ve been down in that damn hole mucking around in the mud all morning long.”
Joanna turned from Ernie Carpenter to the chief deputy. “All right then, Dick. That’s what you tell the press.”
“What?”
“Two separate homicides. One positive I.D one John Doe. No specific leads in either case at this time.”
“That’s all? You call a press conference and just give ‘em that little snippet of information? They’ll tear me apart.”
“Some information is better than no information,” Joanna countered. “They’ll have to make do. Tell them when we know more, they’ll know more.”
Shaking his head, a disgruntled Dick Voland took his coffee and headed out of the office. Ernie Carpenter made as if to follow, but Joanna stopped him. “Wait a minute, Ernie.”
Ernie sighed and reluctantly sat back down. “What now?”
“I picked up a few tidbits of information out at the Rocking P this morning,” she told him.
“Tidbits?” he asked with a disinterested shrug. “Like what?”
Joanna got up from behind her desk, walked over to the door and closed it. “Like who might have killed Harold Patterson,” she answered firmly. “And why.”
CARPENTER stayed in Joanna’s office for more than an hour. Once she started relating all she had learned out at the Patterson place and during her stop at Cosa Viejo, Ernie appropriated one of Joanna’s legal pads and pens and began scribbling notes.
When she finished telling him everything she could remember, Ernie studied his notes in silence for several moments. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, chewing one end of the pen, “what you’ve told me tallies with some of the things I picked up.”
“For instance?”
“For instance,” he replied, “near as I can tell, there were several sets of tire tracks in and out of that place for days. The only trouble is, they’re all from the same vehicle.”
“Which one?”
“Harold Patterson’s Scout.”
“That stands to reason.”
“But only up to a point,” Ernie said. “He could have driven it in one last time, but he sure as hell didn’t drive it out. According to the coroner’s preliminary look-see, he guesstimates time of death as sometime Tuesday or Wednesday, but Burton Kimball says he came to the Election Night party looking for his uncle because he saw his car in the convention-center parking lot.”
“So the question is, how did it get from the glory hole to the parking lot?”
“No way to tell, but pre
sumably the killer drove it there.”
Ernie shook his head thoughtfully. “The part about all this that doesn’t add up is Ivy and her boyfriend spending the night in the Scout with Harold lying there dead a matter of a few feet away. That one just flat-out takes the cake!”
“It’s sick, all right,” Joanna agreed.
“And they’re getting married tonight?”
Joanna nodded. “That’s what they said. Seven o’clock at the Canyon Methodist parsonage. Marianne Macula is officiating.”
“I call that really rushing it,” Ernie said, frowning. “I mean, the old guy’s not even cold yet, and his daughter’s out banging her boyfriend in Daddy’s car. Next thing you know, she’s getting married. Couldn’t she hold off the celebration at least until after the funeral? And you say Burton Kimball didn’t know anything at all about the wedding until today?”
“That’s how it sounded-as though he’d never even heard of Yuri Malakov,” Joanna told him.
“So the Russian and Ivy were already engaged, but maybe no one in the family knew anything about it, including the old man.”
“Why keep your engagement a secret?” Joanna asked.
“Because you figure someone’s going to object,” Ernie answered. “So the next question has to be why there’d be an objection in the first place.”
Joanna nodded thoughtfully. “According to Marianne, Yuri is applying for U.S. citizenship. Wouldn’t Immigration have an application with fingerprints on it?”
“And with any criminal record as well,” Ernie said.
“Can we get a copy?”
Ernie laughed. “Supposedly, but nobody rushes those guys down at INS. I’ve gone to them for records before. Just getting an answer to a simple question could take months, even with the MJ boys working on it.”
The Multi-Jurisdictional Force was a recently created task force designed to counter criminal activity along the Mexican border, including unlawful enterprises that often crossed jurisdictional boundaries. One MJ squad was based out of the Cochise County Justice Center. Joanna knew about it, but only distantly. It was one of those aspects of her new job that she had expected to have time to research between Election Night and being sworn in sometime in January.
“Maybe you can get someone from there to pull a string or two,” she suggested.
“Don’t hold your breath,” Ernie said sourly, getting up. “But I’ll give it a whirl.”
He was already at the door when Joanna remembered the magazine.
“You don’t read People by any chance, do you?”
Ernie shook his head. “Not me. I’m more into Smithsonian and Home Mechanix,” he smiled. “Last month they had a great article on building decks. Why do you ask?”
Joanna leaned down, reached into her purse, and was about to haul out Helen Barco’s dog —eared magazine when she thought better of it.
“Never mind,” she said. “There’s an article in one of them I thought you should read, but you already have enough to do. I’ll try to scan it some time tonight. If it looks as though it has any bearing on the case, I’ll get it to you first thing in the morning.”
“Good,” Ernie said, heading out the door “What I don’t need is one more thing that has to be done tonight.”
The intercom on Joanna’s desk buzzed loudly. Without having been given proper operating instructions, Joanna wasn’t able to figure out how to make it work. Giving up, she finally walked over to the door and threw it open.
“Yes?”
“There’s someone out here waiting to see you.”
“Who?”
Before Kristin could answer, a young woman rose from one of the chairs across the room and hurried forward, hand extended. Short, stocky, well dressed, and very businesslike, she seemed vaguely familiar, although Joanna couldn’t quite place her.
“Sue Rolles,” the woman said with a winning smile. “I’m a reporter for the Arizona Daily Sun.”
“A reporter. I’m afraid you need to talk to Chief Deputy Voland. He’s the one handling the press on today’s glory-hole cases.”
“This isn’t about those,” Sue Rolles said. “It’s something else entirely.”
Joanna led the way back into her office and motioned the visitor into a chair. “Have we met be fore?” Joanna asked. “You look familiar.”
“We didn’t exactly meet,” Sue Rolles replied. “We ran into one another back in September in the lobby at University Hospital in Tucson. But we were never properly introduced. Since then, I’ve spent a good deal of time here in Cochise County working on a special assignment.”
“What kind of assignment?”
“The sheriff’s race.”
Joanna Brady had been in office for only one day but she had been around law enforcement long enough to suspect ambush journalism.
“That’s funny,” she said. “I don’t remember your ever asking for an interview with me.”
“It’s not that kind of article,” Sue Rolles said quickly.
“I see. Exactly what kind is it then?”
Sue Rolles shrugged. “You know how it is. people are free to say things before elections that they can’t or won’t say afterward. My editors wanted me to survey some of the people who work here to get an insider’s view of how people would react depending on which of the three candidates was actually elected.”
“In other words,” Joanna interjected without humor, “you’ve been out stirring up a hornet’s nest in advance of my taking office.”
“Oh, no. Not at all.”
“What, then?”
“Since you’re the first woman to hold this office in the state of Arizona, there’s a good deal of interest, especially since most of the officers who will be reporting to you are men.”
“So?” Joanna asked warily.
“Do you see a problem with that?”
“Not particularly. I’ve addressed that question on numerous occasions during my election campaign. Crime is the problem. Gender is not the problem.”
“Even though some of your officers might be vocally critical of your… law-enforcement abilities?”
“The voters of this county didn’t expect me to know everything the first day I walked into this office,” Joanna countered. “You and I both know there’s a learning curve on any new job. I believe the people who elected me were bargaining for a hard worker. They want me to uncover any problems that may exist in this agency and to find solutions to them. That’s what the people wanted and it’s what I expect to give them.”
“Do you think your election combined with what happened to the previous sheriff will make for a continuing morale problem in the department?”
Joanna Brady wasn’t eager to discuss Walter V McFadden or the role she herself had played in his death.
“Any change of administration or supervision always comes with the potential for ‘morale’ problems. That goes for the private sector every bit as much as it does for governmental agencies. I didn’t come in here expecting to do a wholesale house cleaning. My intention is to give officers under me a fair crack at showing me what they can do. I assume they will grant me the same courtesy.”
“You know about Martin Sanders’ resignation then?”
Martin Sanders, deputy for administration, was Dick Voland’s counterpart on the administrative side. He had always been a background player.
While Dick had been out actively campaigning for Al Freeman, Martin Sanders had been at work minding the store. He was someone Joanna naturally would have expected to meet during the course of her first full day in office had two separate homicides not taken precedence.
“He resigned?” Joanna demanded in surprise. “Since when?”
Sue Rolles looked startled as well. “I thought you knew all about that. My understanding was that he turned in his letter of resignation sometime early this morning. I wonder if it would be fair to characterize his action as a vote of no confidence.”
Joanna could barely contain her irritation. “Since I h
aven’t seen the letter yet,” she snapped, “I don’t believe it’s fair to characterize it one way or the other. My answer on that issue is no comment. Period!”
“What about Chief Deputy Richard Voland?”
“What about him?”
“Do you have anyone in mind as his replacement?”
“Replacement? Who says he’s leaving?”
Sue Rolles shrugged. “Well,” she said disingenuously, “both he and Martin are political appointees, patronage workers who serve at the discretion of the sheriff. And since Voland actively supported your opponent…”
Joanna cut the reporter off in mid-sentence. “Ms Rolles,” she said, “did you attend Dick Voland’s press conference earlier this afternoon?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then you are well aware that this agency is currently in the midst of coping with not one but two separate homicides in addition to handling the regular workload of calls.”
“Yes.”
“From the tenor of your questions, it appears to me this interview is heading in a direction I don’t especially like. I believe it’s designed to undermine my new administration, to create ill-will and disharmony at a time when we all need to pull together to get the job done. With that in mind I have nothing more to say at this time.”
“But…”
Impatiently, Joanna punched a button on the intercom. Luckily, it was the right one, and Kristin answered. “Yes?”
“Miss Marsten,” Joanna said. “Ms. Rolles is just leaving. Would you please show her out? And would you mind bringing in my mail? I’ve been told there are some items lurking in there that require my immediate attention.”
While she waited for Sue Rolles to leave and for Kristin to bring in the mail, Joanna turned and looked out her window. Not that many offices in the building boasted private windows.
It was after four. Already the late fall sun was fast disappearing behind the Mule Mountains to the west. The hillside outside her window was spiked with gray sticks of spindly, thorny ocohllo branches. At first glance, the ghostly dumps of twigs seemed dead or dying, but the slanting after noon sunlight revealed a faint tinge of green out lining the stalks. Even though winter weather was fast approaching, pale new leaves sprouted among the spiny thorns.