by J. A. Jance
“But it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Right,” Joanna agreed. “It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t now. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
About that time, Joanna’s cell phone rang in Frank’s hand. With a disgusted shake of his head, he handed it over to her.
“Mom?” Jenny sobbed into the phone. “Is that you?”
“Jenny. What’s the matter? Where are you?”
“In the principal’s office. We got out of school early today because it’s a teacher-in-service day. I went to Butch’s house, but the door is locked and nobody’s home. Grandma and Grandpa aren’t home either. Everybody’s too busy today, and they just forgot all about me. Nobody even loves me.”
“That’s not true, Jenny. We do love you, and you’re right. We are busy. Just stay there in the office. I’ll be down to get you as soon as I can.”
“Good,” Jenny sniffled. “When can we go get the dogs?”
Listening to her weeping child made Joanna’s heart hurt. She could remember times when Eleanor had been busy as well. “If it’s not one thing,” she used to say, “it’s three others.”
“I don’t know what time exactly,” Joanna said. “But it’ll be before dinner. You can count on that.”
CHAPTER 28
Joanna and Jenny picked up the dogs and took them home to High Lonesome Ranch. Out in the front yard stood an overflowing Dumpster, but Joanna chose not to go near enough to see the unsalvageable debris. There was no point in it. Instead, tentatively, she made her way into the house.
“What do you think?” Butch asked.
The mess was gone. The broken glassware and food had been cleaned up and carted away. Someone had replaced the sliced cord on the back of the refrigerator. It was plugged in and humming away in an otherwise almost empty kitchen. The walls and ceiling had been scrubbed down, although shadows of mustard and stains of hot sauce remained visible. Those wouldn’t disappear until after a coat or two of paint. The cupboard doors and drawer fronts were mostly missing, and the broken shelves were still broken. The rest of the house was in much the same condition. With the better part of the furniture hauled away, the place had a strange, unoccupied echo to it as Joanna and Butch walked from room to room. Only Jenny’s room remained the same as it had been before.
“Amazing,” Joanna murmured. “How did you do all this?”
“I had good help,” Butch replied. “I still can’t believe how hard people slaved away. I was afraid Jim Bob was going to work himself into a coronary. No matter what I said, he wouldn’t stop or even slow down. Jeff Daniels and your brother were the same way, and my father was no slouch, either. Marianne was here with Ruth for a while, but with all the broken glass lying around, we decided it was best for her to go back home. Besides, the woman’s eight and a half months pregnant and in no condition to be hauling broken furniture outside to a Dumpster. The stuff that isn’t broken we packed in boxes, but I’m afraid there isn’t much of that.”
Joanna nodded. “Thank goodness all the photo albums Mom gave us-the ones she kept nagging us about and the ones Jenny and I have been working on a little at a time-were in the top of the closet in Jenny’s room, which means they weren’t touched. If we’d lost them, they would have been irreplaceable. Everything else is replaceable.”
“Still,” Butch said gently, putting his arm around her shoulders. “It’s a hell of a loss.”
“It would have been a lot worse if I’d had to face the job of cleaning up on my own,” Joanna told him. “Thank you, Butch. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Yes, I do,” he said.
For obvious reasons the pre-rehearsal-dinner dinner, which had originally been slated for High Lonesome Ranch, had been moved to a different venue. The party ended up being held at George and Eleanor Winfield’s house on Campbell Avenue, but the menu remained the same-an all-you-can-eat pizza feast from Bisbee’s Pizza Palace. The dinner guests, most of them exhausted from a day of heavy physical labor, arrived tired, hungry, and thirsty but ready to switch gears from clean-up crew to wedding-festivity attendees.
The four women who had been dispatched to Tucson earlier in the day didn’t pull into the carport until after the pizza had been delivered. They, too, seemed tired but happy. “We shopped till we dropped,” Eva Lou announced, massaging her feet.
“We could have done more,” Eleanor put in, “but Butch said not to. Take a look at what we brought, Joanna. Tell us what you think.”
One at a time Joanna rummaged through the bags. There were several new sets of underwear-none of it quite as racy as the ones Joanna had been given during Sunday afternoon’s shower, but it was still all very nice. There were two dresses that, with the addition of a blazer, would be fine for work. There were two lovely blouses, two pairs of slacks, and three pairs of shoes-including a replacement of the wedding shoes to match the dress that was scheduled to arrive the following afternoon. There was enough new clothing in the shopping bags to see Joanna through several days, but not much beyond that. On thinking about it, Joanna decided that was fine. Nice as these selections were, she much preferred doing her own shopping.
“Don’t you want to try these things on?” Eleanor suggested.
Joanna looked around at a roomful of expectant people and begged off. “Please, Mom,” she said. “They’re wonderful, and all the sizes look perfect, but I’m worn out. Couldn’t we pass on the fashion show for tonight?”
“I’m sure that will be just fine, won’t it, Ellie,” George Winfield said before his wife could answer. “Besides, the food is here and getting cold. Time to eat.”
“I suppose,” Eleanor agreed, although Joanna could see she wasn’t thrilled about it.
Marianne Maculyea and Jeff Daniels arrived shortly thereafter. Marianne’s eyes were red, as was her nose. “You look awful,” Joanna said, after Jeff took Ruth out to the kitchen to fill a plate. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve spent the afternoon crying.”
“I have.”
“What’s wrong?”
“After Ruth and I got home from the ranch, I put her down for a nap. I was just starting to pick up the house when the doorbell rang. There was a strange woman standing on the front porch, someone I had never seen before. She gave me this.”
Marianne reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter.
“What is it?” Joanna asked.
“Read it.”
Joanna looked down at the envelope. The return address said “E. Maculyea, P.O. Box 8751, Safford, Arizona.” “Your mother?” Joanna asked.
Marianne nodded wordlessly. From the time Marianne Maculyea had left the Catholic Church in order to become a Methodist minister, she had been at war with her parents, Timothy and Evangeline. There had been a partial thaw in hostilities at the time Jeff and Marianne had lost Ruth’s twin, Esther. Marianne’s father had come to both the hospital and funeral. Her mother had not. For years, being at war with their respective mothers had been one of the glues that had held Joanna and Marianne’s friendship together.
“Read it,” Marianne said.
Joanna unfolded the letter and read:
Dear Marianne,
This letter will introduce you to Julie Erickson. She is a nanny who lives in Tucson. Your father and I know two different families for whom she has worked in the past ten years. Please interview her and get to know her. If you decide she would fit in with yours and Jeff’s needs, please let us know. After the baby is born, your father and I will pay Julie’s wages for a six-month period. That should give you enough time to get back on your feet.
Love,
Mom
Joanna looked up from the letter. “Did you like her?” she asked.
“The nanny?” Marianne returned. “She was wonderful. Perfect. In fact, she was still there when Ruth woke up. The two of them hit it off right away, and you know how standoffish Ruth can be with strangers sometimes. It’s a m
iracle, Joanna. An answer to a prayer.”
“Yes,” Joanna agreed, giving her friend a hug. “It’s an answer to more than one.”
CHAPTER 29
At nine o’clock Friday morning, Frank was in Joanna’s office for the morning briefing. “As soon as we’re done with this, I’m leaving,” she told him. “I worked all day yesterday. I’m not working today.”
“Right,” he said. “You stumble into a hornet’s nest that’s going to create jurisdictional wrangling from here to next Tuesday, and you bail out on me.”
“I can’t help that.” Joanna grinned. She was feeling good that morning. On top of the world. “If you ever decide to get married,” she added, “remind me that I owe you that extra half day off. Now, what’s the deal? How are Ken Galloway and Catherine Yates doing, for starters?”
“Catherine Yates is still under observation at Copper Queen Hospital. Deputy Galloway is out and fine. We’re lucky they were found when they were. If you hadn’t put down the spike strips and if your phony Agent Reed had managed to make it off departmental grounds, they might well have suffocated before someone found them and hauled them out of his trunk. I think he planned to use them as bargaining chips if need be, but you outfoxed him there, Joanna. Jaime and Ernie nailed Ed Masters before he had a chance to get away.”
“Who the hell is Ed Masters anyway?” Joanna asked.
“Melanie Goodson’s silent real estate partner for one, but before he retired from the army, Major General Edward P. Masters was director of military intelligence at Fort Huachuca.”
“Bingo,” Joanna said softly.
“You’d better believe it. The FBI is working behind the scenes to re-create Sandra Ridder’s work record. I’m pretty sure they’re going to find that she worked for Masters or for someone connected to Masters. He may even be the guy Tom Ridder punched out in the bar, but nobody knows that for sure because we’re being systematically pushed out of the loop. The Feds don’t want us rocking any boats until they can find out if there are still any active participants out on post. But there have been hints that Sandra Ridder had done something off the wall in her NAT-C days, something that left her open to blackmail when she tried to leave her past behind. There’s also some indication that she thought it would be easier on Lucy if she went to prison for manslaughter rather than being sent up on charges of being a spy.”
“So she did cop a plea in order to protect her daughter?”
“That’s how it looks. In addition to that, Special Investigator Warren Borden, the guy who really made the witness-protection deal with Sandra Ridder, is due in town from D.C. this afternoon. I’ve been directed by his boss-Madame Attorney General herself-to turn the encrypted diskette over to him. He tells me that yes, the monies due to Sandra Ridder for delivery of said diskette will be paid directly into her estate.”
“Maybe Lucy Ridder will be able to get a second chance at taking ballet lessons after all,” Joanna mused. “Where is she, by the way?”
“As far as I know, she’s still over at the hospital. Later on this afternoon, she and Big Red will be heading back to Saint David and Holy Trinity. They’ll stay there at least until after Catherine Yates is released from the hospital.”
“How did this all happen?” Joanna asked. “If Borden was all set to put Sandra Ridder in the witness-protection program, how did things go so wrong?”
“Special Investigator Borden thinks Sandra must have mentioned her deal to Melanie Goodson, thinking, of course, that Melanie was her dear friend. Except it turns out that Melanie was far better friends with Ed Masters than she ever was with Sandra Ridder. As soon as Masters got wind of what was happening, he was prepared to go to any length and do whatever was necessary to put the genie back in the bottle.”
For the next little while, Joanna and Frank sorted through the standard daily concerns. She had been afraid of losing control by being gone for such a long period of time, but after being forced to let go of most of her earthly possessions, leaving her job behind for a week no longer seemed like such a big deal. Frank would be fine without her. So would her department.
When the briefing was over and Frank left the office, Joanna sat looking in wonder at her surroundings. It seemed almost incomprehensible that tomorrow would be her wedding day, but it was true. Once the replacement wedding dress showed up, maybe it would all seem real.
Her intercom buzzed. “Sheriff Brady?” Kristin said. “There’s a long-distance call for you from someone named Joyce Roberts. She says she’s an attorney. Do you want to talk to her, or should I have her talk to Chief Deputy Montoya?”
“No,” Joanna said. “This is Reba Singleton’s divorce attorney. I’ll take the call. Sheriff Brady here,” she added a moment later when the Joyce Roberts’ call was put through. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve just spoken to Dennis Singleton’s attorney. I’ve put him on notice that if Dennis wants to avert a costly lawsuit, he’d do well to speak to your attorney and arrange to settle all damages caused by his egregious treatment of his poor unfortunate wife. Do you have an attorney in mind, Sheriff Brady?”
“Yes,” Joanna replied. “Just a minute and I’ll look up Burton Kimball’s number. I’m sure he’ll be glad to handle this matter for me.”
“Does he drive a hard bargain?” Joyce Roberts asked.
“Probably.”
“Good. The tougher he is, the better.”
“How’s Reba?” Joanna asked.
“Contrite about what she did to you, but mad as hell at Dennis,” Joyce returned. “And that’s good. I believe she’s going to be a whole lot tougher on Dennis than he thought she was going to be, and getting all the prescription drugs she was taking out of her system is going to help. I can hardly wait to tear that bastard apart in court. Do you want me to call this Burton Kimball, or are you going to do it?”
“I will, to begin with,” Joanna said. “But give me your number. I’ll have him give you a call.”
Half an hour later, as Joanna was getting ready to leave the office, she popped her head out the door. “Okay,” she said to Kristin. “I’m out of here. Is everything under control?”
“We found the perfect dress,” Kristin said, bubbling with happiness. “I just talked to my grandmother, and she’s going to go buy it today. She told me that just because my dad is her son doesn’t mean he isn’t a creep.”
“Have you and Terry set a date?”
“We wanted to check with you first. What about the week after you get back?”
Joanna smiled at her. “I’m sure that’ll be fine,” she said. “But talk to Chief Deputy Montoya right away and get it worked into the rotation schedule.”
“We will,” Kristin said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Joanna said.
Eleanor had called to say Joanna’s dress had been delivered to the Winfields’ house on Campbell Avenue. On the way to pick it up, Joanna drove past the Copper Queen Hospital and spotted Father Mulligan walking in the rose garden out front. Parking in the lot, she walked up to him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Lucy wanted to come see her grandmother. While we wait for visiting hours, Lucy and Big Red are fooling around out back. Want me to go get them?”
“I will,” Joanna said.
Behind the hospital, in a clearing below the retaining wall that held the hospital’s helicopter pad, Joanna found Lucy Ridder standing and staring up at the sky. High overhead, Big Red floated above her in long, effortless circles.
“Aren’t you worried that a helicopter might need to land?” Joanna asked.
“No,” Lucy replied without looking away from the hawk. “He’ll come if I call him. We’ll get out of the way.”
Lucy stopped watching the bird and turned to face Joanna. On her neck were not one but two tiny devil’s-claw amulets, both of them dangling on one silver chain. Lucy must have followed Joanna’s gaze.
“Grandma Yates gave me the other one,” Lucy said. �
��She told me she thought my mother would have wanted me to have it. She says I should have them made into earrings. What do you think?”
“I think your grandmother’s right,” Joanna told her.
“About the earrings?” Lucy asked.
“About your mother wanting you to have this.”
“And was she really a bad person?”
Joanna considered her answer. “No,” she said, softly. “I don’t think she was bad. I think she made mistakes, but I also think she loved you very much.”
Just then a terrible screech rent the air. Looking up, Joanna saw Big Red plummeting out of the sky, diving beak first straight for her head. Thinking she was under attack, Joanna covered her face with both arms and dodged to one side. When she opened her eyes, the bird had settled, nonchalantly, on Lucy Ridder’s narrow shoulder. As Joanna watched, he nuzzled up to her and buried his head in her hair. All the experts would have told her such a relationship was impossible, and yet Joanna was seeing it with her own eyes. And something made her think that the old Apache chief, Eskiminzin, wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
“And I think your great-grandmother was right as well,” Joanna added after a moment as she dropped her arms and attempted to regain a little of her dignity. “It’s all part of the pattern.”
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked.
“I mean,” Joanna told her, “that your mother was an interesting person, and so are you.”
EPILOGUE
The wedding was beautiful, although Joanna didn’t realize it at the time. Only later, later, when she saw the pictures, would she finally notice how much fun everyone seemed to be having. Her dress was beautiful, and the flowers were gorgeous. The bride was radiant, so was the groom, so was the flower girl, and so was the mother of the bride. If anybody cried, Joanna didn’t see it.
She and Butch left the reception at Palominas while the party was still in full swing and drove as far as Tucson to spend the night. Early Sunday morning found them standing in a check-in line at Tucson International Airport. “So,” the clerk said with a smile as she examined the passports Butch had presented for identification purposes along with their tickets. “Is Paris your final destination today?”