by J. A. Jance
“Will do,” she said sleepily. Then she rolled over, sighed, and immediately resumed snoring.
George stood there feeling that he had somehow dodged a bullet. Only for the time being, of course. Once Eleanor found out about Jenny and the body and the cigarettes and once Eleanor figured out that George had known about the situation without immediately telling her, then there would be hell to pay, but George was used to that. He and his first wife had hardly ever quarreled. In this new life and in his second marriage, he was learning to enjoy his almost daily sparring matches with the perpetually volatile Eleanor. George got a kick out of the daily skirmishes and even more enjoyment out of making tip again afterward.
Makes life more interesting, George thought to himself as he once again let himself out of the bedroom and silently pulled the door shut behind him. It helps keep us young--or at least not as old as we would be otherwise.
Joanna Brady was asleep and dreaming that she was driving her Blazer across a bone-dry wash bed. Halfway through the wash, the engine stalled. Time and again, Joanna twisted the key in the ignition, but the engine refused to turn over. Hearing a rumbling sound coining from outside, Joanna looked up in time to see a wall of flash-flood-swollen water bearing down on her. She was reaching for the door handle when the phone rang. She grabbed up the receiver of the hotel phone, but still the persistent racket continued. On the second try she located her cell phone.
“Hello?” she said, without even bothering to check the caller-ID readout as she did so.
Beside her, Butch rolled over and groaned. “What now?” he muttered.
“Morning, Boss,” Frank Montoya said. “Sorry to wake you.”
“What time is it?” Joanna asked.
“Almost midnight.”
“What’s up?”
“A homicide,” Frank replied. “Out in Apache Pass. Jenny and one of her friends, Dora Matthews, discovered the body.”
Joanna sat straight up in bed. “Jenny?” she demanded. “Is she all right? Is she in any danger?”
“No,” Frank said. “I’m sure she’s fine, although I haven’t actually seen her myself. I’m still at the crime scene. She and the other girl are back at camp. Faye Lambert is here with me. We’ll be going up there as soon as Ernie Carpenter and Doc Winfield show up to take charge of the crime scene.”
Holding the phone with one hand, Joanna scrabbled out of bed and began gathering clothing. “It’ll take some time to get checked out,” she said. “But if we leave within the next half hour, we can probably be there by eight-thirty or so.”
“Slow down, Boss,” Frank was saying. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“What do you mean, it isn’t necessary?” Joanna returned. “If my daughter is involved in a homicide—”
“I didn’t say she was involved,” Frank corrected. “I said she found a body. From the looks of it, the woman’s been dead for a while, so it isn’t as though Jenny actually witnessed a crime in progress. Not only that, I just now got off the phone with Jim Bob Brady. He and Eva Lou are on their way out to Apache Pass to bring Jenny and the other girl, Dora Matthews, back into town.”
“I still think we should get dressed and head out just as soon as—”
“Why?” Frank interrupted. “What difference is it going to make if you get here at eight o’clock in the morning or at two o’clock in the afternoon? Jenny’s fine, and she’ll be in good hands with the Bradys taking care of her. As for the homicide investigation, we have that under control. Ernie Carpenter and Doc Winfield are both on their way and should be here in a matter of minutes. As soon as one of them shows up, I’ll go check on Jenny, but from what Faye Lambert said, I think she’s fine. Jenny and her friend found the body, and they reported it to Mrs. Lambert right away.
“But where was it, right there where they’re camping?”
“Not exactly,” Frank said. “It seems that after lights-out, Jenny and the other girl, Dora Matthews, snuck off by themselves to smoke a cigarette—”
“‘They did what?”
“Went to smoke a cigarette. Jenny evidently got sick to her stomach and barfed her guts out. It was sometime after that they found the body. I’m at the crime scene now. I’d say it’s a good half mile from where the girls are camping.”
“What’s going on?” Butch asked in the background. “Has something happened to Jenny?”
“Cigarettes!” Joanna exclaimed, waving aside Butch’s question. “Jenny was smoking cigarettes? I’ll kill her. Put her on the phone.”
“I can’t. I already told you, she isn’t here right now,” Frank said. “She’s back at camp and that’s a good half a mile from the crime scene. Faye left the girls in a motor home back at the campsite and gave them strict orders not to budge until we get there, which shouldn’t be all that long now.”
“As soon as I can get dressed and out of here, we’ll be on our way,” Joanna said.
“Come on, Boss,” Frank returned. “Page is at least an eight-hour drive from here, even the way you drive. It’s also the middle of the night. The last thing we need is for you to take off at midnight to drive home. You’ll end up in a wreck somewhere between here and there. I’ve got things under control as far as the investigation is concerned, and your in-laws are coming to take care of Jenny. I suggest that you try to get a decent night’s sleep right where you are and then drive home in the morning.”
Joanna had been pacing back and forth across the room with the phone in one hand and a fistful of clothing in the other. Now she stopped pacing and took a deep breath. Even in her agitated state she could see there would be plenty of time for her to deal with Jenny and her experimentation with cigarettes. The real point of Frank’s middle-of-the-night phone call was the homicide in Joanna’s jurisdiction. That meant she needed to switch off her motherly outrage and put on her sheriff persona.
“You’d better tell me what you know about the victim,” she said. “Any idea who she is?”
“No,” Frank answered. “She’s naked. No ID, nothing.”
“And no vehicle?”
“Not that we’ve been able to find so far. I’d say she was killed somewhere else and then dumped here. Of course, Doc Winfield will be able to tell us more about that.”
“You’ll cast for tire tracks?” Joanna asked.
“Yes, but depending on how long ago she was brought here, I doubt if tire casts will do us any good.”
By then, Butch had switched on his lamp and was sitting up on his side of the bed. “Do I get dressed or don’t I?” he asked.
Joanna knew Frank Montoya was right. Driving through the night on less than two hours’ sleep made no sense. “No,” she said to Butch. “Not yet.”
“Not yet what?” Frank asked.
“I was talking to Butch. You’re right. We probably shouldn’t leave until morning, but I’d like to talk to Jim Bob and Eva Lou before I make a final decision. And to Jenny,” she added.
“All right,” Frank said. “Since I’ve got a decent cell-phone signal here, it’ll probably work at the camp, too. As soon as we’re all in one place, I’ll give you a call back.”
“Thanks,” Joanna said. “Sounds good.”
She ended the call and then crawled back into bed.
“So what’s the deal?” Butch asked.
“Jenny and Dora Matthews snuck out of camp after lights-out to smoke cigarettes,” she answered. “While they were doing that, they stumbled upon a homicide victim. Jim Bob and Eva Lou are coming to pick the girls up and take them home to Bisbee.”
“But the girls are both all right?”
“Fine,” Joanna answered testily. “At least they will be until I catch up with them. I can’t believe it. Jenny smoking! What do you suppose got into her?”
“She’s twelve,” Butch said, stifling a yawn. “She’s growing up, trying her wings. Don’t make a federal case out of-it.”
Joanna turned on him, mouth agape. “What do you mean by that?”
“I
mean stay cool,” he said. “It’s only cigarettes. The more you overreact, the worse it’ll be. Think about you and your mother. What about all the things Eleanor used to tell you not to do?”
“I couldn’t wait to go out and try them,” Joanna conceded. “Every single one of Eleanor’s thou-shalt-nots, right down the line, turned into one of my must-dos.”
Butch reached over and wrapped an arm around Joanna’s shoulder, pulling her toward him. “There you are,” he said with a grin. “I rest my case. Now tell me all about our daughter finding a body. Cigarettes be damned, it sounds to me as though Jenny’s trying her damnedest to follow in her mother’s footsteps.”
Jennifer Ann Brady sat miserably on the leather couch of Mr. Foxworth’s surprisingly spacious motor home and waited to see what would happen. Jenny’s mother got angry sometimes, but when she did, her voice was really quiet—a whisper almost. When Mrs. Lambert was angry, she yelled, loud enough for everyone in camp to hear every word. She had yelled about what an incredibly irresponsible thing it had been for Jenny and Dora to run out like that. And how unacceptable it was for them to smoke cigarettes! Furthermore, Mrs. Lambert said, since Jenny and Dora had proved themselves to be untrustworthy, she was in the process of notifying their parents to come get them. They wouldn’t be allowed to stay in camp for the remainder of the weekend.
For Jenny, who wasn’t used to being in trouble, Mrs. Lambert’s red-faced tirade was uncharted territory. Because Jenny knew she deserved it, she had taken the dressing-down with her own flushed tic e bowed in aching embarrassment.
Dora, on the other hand, had casually shrugged of the whole thing. As soon as Mrs. Lambert finished yelling at them, grabbed her cell phone, and marched outside, Dora had stuck her tongue out at Mrs. Lambert’s retreating back as the door closed.
“What does she know?” Dora demanded. “The hell with her! I’m going to go take a shower.”
“A shower!” Jenny yelped. “You can’t do that. You heard what Mrs. Lambert said. No showers. There isn’t enough water. If you use too much, the other girls may run out of water before the weekend is over.”
“So what ?” Dora asked with a shrug. “What do I care? She’s going to send us home anyway.”
“But we’ll get in even more trouble.”
“So what?” Dora repeated with another shrug. “Who cares? At least I’ll be clean for a change.” With that, she flounced into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Jenny, alone in the living room, was left wondering. She had always thought Dora was dirty because she liked being dirty and that her body odor was a result of not knowing any better. Now, as Jenny listened to the shower running for what seemed like endless minutes, she wasn’t so sure.
There was a knock on the door. Jenny jumped. She started to get up to answer it, but then thought better of it. “Who is it?” she asked. Since the shower was still running, she prayed whoever was outside wouldn’t be Mrs. Lambert, and her wish was granted.
“It’s Frank Montoya, Jenny,” the chief deputy said. “I need to talk to you.”
Relieved to hear a familiar voice, Jenny raced to the door and flung it open. Then, embarrassed, she stepped away. “Hello,” she said in a subdued voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I guess so,” she said. “Did you call my mom?”
“Yes.
“Is she coming home?”
“Not tonight. She’ll he home tomorrow.”
Jennifer Brady heaved a sigh of relief. She wasn’t yet ready to face her mother.
“Your grandparents are coming to get you,” Frank Montoya continued.
Jenny’s stomach did a flip-flop. “Which ones?” she asked.
“Mr. and Mrs. Brady. They’ll be here soon.”
Jenny swallowed hard and offered Frank Montoya a tentative smile. Grandpa and Grandma Brady would be far easier to deal with than Grandma Lathrop Winfield would be. Her mother’s mother had a way of always making things seem far worse than they were, although, in this case, having things get worse hardly seemed possible.
“What about Dora’s mother?” Jenny asked. “Is she coining, too?”
“So far we haven’t been able to contact Mrs. Matthews,” Frank Montoya explained. “We may have to ask your grandparents to take Dora into town as well. If Mrs. Matthews still isn’t home by the time you arrive, maybe your grandparents can look after Dora until we’re able to notify her mother.”
“No,” Dora said, emerging barefoot from the bathroom. She was wearing the same dirty clothing she’d worn before, but her clean wet hair was wrapped in a towel. “I can go home even if my mom isn’t there. Just have them drop me off at our house. I’ll be tine.”
“I’m sorry, Dora. We can’t do that. Your mother expects you to be on the camp-out until Monday morning. She also expects you to be properly supervised. We can’t drop you off at home without an adult there to look after you. Mrs. Lambert would have a liability problem if we did that, and so would the sheriff’s department.”
“I don’t know why,” Dora said. “I stay alone by myself a lot. It’s no big deal.”
“You’re sure you don’t know where your mother is?”
Dora shrugged. “She has a boyfriend,” she said offhandedly. “They probably just went off someplace. You know, for sex and stuff. I’m sure that’s why she was so set on my going on the campout—so she could be rid of me for a while.”
Taken aback by Dora’s matter-of-fact manner, Frank looked at her and frowned. “Does your mother do that often, leave you alone?”
“I can take care of myself,” Dora retorted. “It’s not like I’m going to starve to death or anything. There’s plenty of food in the house. I can make sandwiches and stuff.”
Frank’s radio crackled, announcing Dr. Winfield’s arrival at the crime scene. “Before you head back to town, I need to ask you a few questions,” Deputy Montoya said. “You girls didn’t see anyone around when you found the body, did you?”
Both girls shook their heads in unison.
“Or see anything that seemed odd?”
“No,” Jenny answered.
“What about picking something up or moving it?”
“I know enough not to mess with evidence,” Jenny put in. “As soon as we saw the body, we came running straight back here and told Mrs. Lambert.”
“But the body’s a long way from camp, almost half a mile. What made you go so far?”
“As soon as we put out the cigarettes, I could smell it—the body, I mean. I told Dora something was dead, but she thought I was just making it up, so I had to show her. I thought we’d find a dead deer or a cow or a coyote, not a woman. Not a person. Do you know who she is?”
“Not yet,” Frank replied. “We’ll figure it out eventually.”
Before Frank had a chance to back out the motor home, there was another knock from outside. As soon as Frank opened the door, Eva Lou Brady darted inside. She wrapped both arms around Jenny and pulled her granddaughter into a smothering bear hug. “Are you all right?” she demanded.
Trapped between Eva Lou Brady’s ample breasts, all Jenny could do was nod.
Her grandmother loosened her grip on Jenny and turned to Dora. “And you must be Sally Pommer’s little girl. I knew your grandmother,” Eva Lou added kindly. “Dolly and I used to volunteer together out at Meals on Wheels. I understand someone brought your backpacks and bedrolls up from your tent. Jim Bob’s loading them into the car right now. Are you ready to go?”
Dora unwrapped the towel and dropped it on the floor. “I am,” she said. Jenny was surprised to see that Dora’s usually dingy brown hair was shining in the glow cast by the motor home’s generator-powered fluorescent light fixture.
Eva Lou bent over, picked up the wet towel, and handed it back to Dora. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to leave this lying on the floor. As soon as you hang it up, we’ll be going.”
For a moment Jenny thought Dora was going to say something smart
. Instead, without a word, she stomped back into the bathroom and jammed the wet towel onto a wooden towel bar. “If that’s okay, maybe we can go now.”
“Yes,” said Eva Lou, guiding Jenny and Dora past Frank Montoya, who still stood in the open doorway. “I’m sure that will he just tine.”
The girls and their gear were both in the back of the Bradys’ Honda when Frank Montoya handed his phone to Grandma Brady. With a sinking feeling, Jenny knew at once that the person on the phone had to be her mother. Sliding down in the car seat, Jenny closed her eyes and wished she were somewhere else. A minute or so later, Eva Lou tapped on the window and motioned for Jenny to get out of the car.
“It’s for you,” Grandma Brady said. “Your mother wants to speak to you.”
Reluctantly, Jenny scrambled out of the car and took the phone, but she walked around to the far side of the motor home before she answered it. There were flashlights flickering in the other tents. Jenny knew that in the stillness, all the other girls in the troop were watching the excitement and straining to hear every word.
“Hello, Mom,” Jenny said.
“Are you all right?” Joanna demanded.
Hot tears stung Jenny’s eyes. “I guess so,” she muttered.
If Joanna had been ready to light into Jenny about her misbehavior, the faltering, uncertain sound of her daughter’s subdued voice was enough to change her mind and melt her heart. “What happened?” she asked.
Jenny’s tears boiled over. “I got into trouble, Mom,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean to do it . . . trying the cigarette, I mean. It was like an accident, or something. Dora asked me and I said yes, even though I knew I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Mom. Really I am.”
“Of course you’re sorry, Jenny,” Joanna said. “Grandma and Grandpa are there now to take you home, right?”
“Yes,” Jenny murmured uncertainly with a stifled sob, her tears still very close to the surface.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Joanna said. “But in the meantime, I want you to know I love you.”