At last the service ended. When it came time to walk back down the aisle, Joanna tried to place herself between Jonathan Becker and Jessie Monroe. “Let me walk with him,” Jessie insisted. “If there’s any ugly talk, this should put an end to it.”
And with that, a dignified Jessie Monroe, leaning on her walker, led the procession out of the church. When they reached the door, Joanna took charge of Becker once more, leading him toward the waiting limo that would follow the hearse to the cemetery.
Once Becker was safely in the car, Joanna straightened up in the clear, cold afternoon sunlight just as Adam York moved in beside her. “Got him,” he whispered in her ear. “In fact, we’ve got them both.”
“Are you kidding?”
He smiled. “Nope. The man from Garrity’s told us how many motorcycles were supposed to show up to escort the cortege to the cemetery. As soon as an extra cycle showed up, we took that guy out and handed him over to Ernie Carpenter. Ernie said to tell you he’s got a Nevada driver’s license, two long scratches down the side of his neck, and a nine-mm automatic. He also had an accomplice with a van parked up on Tough Nut Street. As soon as the motorcycle guy did the job, they would have loaded the cycle into the van and disappeared.”
Joanna was both dumbfounded and relieved. “You mean it’s over? That’s all there is to it?” she demanded.
Adam York grinned. “Isn’t that enough?” he returned. “What were you looking for, another shoot-out a la O.K. Corral? From the sound of things, I’d say Cochise County has already had more than its share of excitement this week. Good work.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Joanna objected.
“On the contrary,” Adam said. “You found the dots. All we did was connect them.”
Carried forward by the crowd behind them, Joanna and Adam York moved on into the street. Now, as people spilled toward their vehicles, Joanna caught sight of a photographer moving purposefully toward her, camera in hand. Behind the photographer stood Marliss Shackleford.
Quickly Joanna reached into her purse, grabbed her sunglasses, and slapped them on her face, deftly covering her blackened eyes.
“Sheriff Brady,” Marliss said. “I understand there’s been some police activity here this afternoon. What’s going on?”
Joanna looked up at Adam York before she answered. “No comment,” she said.
Twenty-Four
DINNER THAT night was at Daisy’s, too. On Friday nights the place stayed open until ten o’clock, and it was usually jammed. Nonetheless, Eva Lou had told her husband that she was tired of cooking, so the whole group—Jim Bob, Eva Lou, Jenny, Junior, Butch, and Joanna—trooped into the restaurant and waited until Moe Maxwell, Daisy’s husband, was able to clear a table for six.
While they waited for their order, Jenny and Junior—still wearing his sheriffs badge—played tic-tac-toe, and Joanna summarized the day’s events. “So what will happen to Jonathan Becker now?” Butch asked when she finished.
“I don’t know. He has what appears to be a valid marriage license that proves he and Alice Rogers were man and wife. The fact that he used a different name doesn’t matter as long as use of that name wasn’t done to defraud anyone. Since Farley Adams is the name the Witness Protection Program assigned to, him, I guess he has a right to use it.”
“So he’s likely to inherit something then?” Jim Bob asked.
“If the only will found turns out to be the one drawn up by Dena Hogan, that one won’t stand up in court, so the state of Arizona will most likely end up divvying up Alice Rogers’ estate, depending on whether or not Susan Jenkins was involved in the plot against her mother. If she was, Farley Adams could turn out to be Alice’s sole heir.”
“If he does inherit,” Butch said, “will he stay in Tombstone or not?”
“I think he’d like to,” Joanna said. “Especially if he’d be able to stay on at Outlaw Mountain. He says he’s tired of running. He wants a place he can call home, but it will depend on whether or not what happened today really clears the books on what happened up in Nevada.”
“I hope he can stay then,” Butch said.
Joanna nodded. “So do I.”
Daisy’s was busy enough that Moe Maxwell, Daisy’s husband, had been drafted into waiting tables as well as busing them. He came over to the table carrying a tray of drinks.
“All right,” he said. “I’ve got four coffees and two chocolate shakes. Who gets the shakes?”
“Me!” Junior shouted. “Me. Me. Me.”
“Me, too,” said Jenny.
Once again Junior was so excited that he needed help unwrapping his straw. Once again Butch did the honors. As Jenny and Junior slurped away on their shakes, Moe shook his head. “They’re not really going to put him in a home, are they?” he asked.
“That’s what the attorney told me,” Joanna said guardedly. “According to him, the mother is incapacitated, and there aren’t any other relatives who can step in.”
“But does it have to be relatives?” Moe asked. “Couldn’t somebody else take care of him? It’s the only thing Daisy talked about all afternoon. She says to me, ‘Moe, we’re just rattling around in this big old house. Couldn’t we take him in?’ I tried to tell her it was the wildest-haired scheme she’s ever come up with, but if that’s what the woman wants…”
“Daisy wants you two to take Junior?” Joanna asked.
“She’s determined to talk to that lawyer and see if she could convince him to let us look after Junior. I’m about to retire, you see. Two weeks from yesterday, as a matter of fact. She says to me, ‘Moe, what the hell are you going to do with all your spare time?’ And you know what? I didn’t have a good answer.”
“But you barely know him,” Joanna objected. “And you have no idea how hard it would be.”
“Daisy knows,” Moe Maxwell said. “Daisy had a baby sister once that was just like Junior here, only she died when she was just fourteen—two months after some state busybody convinced Daisy’s folks to put the girl in a state-run home. Believe me, Daisy knows exactly what we’d be up against, and that’s why she wants to do it: it’s for her little sister. Daisy and me may seem like we’re over the hill, but we’re neither one of us afraid of hard work. Besides, like I always say, ‘Whatever Daisy wants, Daisy gets.’ Once’t that woman gets some damn-fool notion in her head, I know better than to argue. So if you could see your way clear to put us in touch with that lawyer guy, we could at least talk about it. See what he has to say.”
“Sure,” Joanna said. “I will. First thing Monday morning.”
At that precise moment, Joanna’s cell phone—buried in her purse—began to ring. For a second or so, Joanna was tempted to ignore it—simply not to answer and let whatever new crisis was at hand handle itself. But when the irksome crowing made people turn and stare, the unwelcome attention got the better of her.
“Hello,” Joanna said.
“Joanna? It’s me, Marianne. Where are you?”
Marianne’s voice sounded odd. “We’re at Daisy’s,” Joanna told her. “We’re waiting for our food. Why, is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Marianne babbled. “What could be wrong? I just got off the phone with Tommy. He told me what’s going on. I’m pregnant, Joanna. Jeff and I are going to have a baby! Do you believe it? I can’t!”
Joanna was stunned to silence. After all the years of Jeff’s and Marianne’s trying to have children and failing, after finally adopting the girls and then losing Esther, it didn’t seem possible. Feeling her eyes fill with tears, Joanna tried to stanch the flow by shutting them. But it didn’t work. The tears leaked out anyway. They ran down her face and dripped off her chin. With her eyes still closed, Joanna felt Butch’s hand reach over and cover hers.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
Opening her eyes, Joanna gave Butch a teary but radiant smile. “It’s Marianne,” she said. “She’s pregnant. She and Jeff are going to have a baby!”
That announceme
nt was followed by a burst of cheering and clapping. Junior, caught up in the excitement, joined in as well, cheering louder than anyone. There was so much noise that Joanna could hear Marianne was speaking but she couldn’t make out the words. Joanna signaled for people to quiet down. Eventually they did.
“Sorry, Mari,” she said. “I couldn’t hear. What were you saying?”
“Tommy really let me have it for not seeing a doctor sooner,” Marianne said, “but I was scared it was going to be bad news. After what happened with Esther, I didn’t think Jeff could stand another disaster, and I knew I couldn’t. I’m already almost two months along, Joanna. Two whole months! By next June, Ruth will have a little brother or sister. What do you think of that? What are the people at Canyon United Methodist going to think?”
“Does that mean you’re not quitting?” Joanna asked.
Marianne laughed. “Of course I’m not quitting, but the first thing I have to do is rewrite my Thanksgiving sermon once more. The bulletin’s going to be out of date, but that’s all right, too.”
“Hold on a minute, Mari,” Joanna said. “I have to ask someone a question.” She turned to Butch. “What do you think about having a pregnant minister?” she asked.
“It doesn’t bother me,” he said.
“But for a wedding?” she asked. “What about that?” Butch shrugged. “That’s fine, too.”
“What about April then?”
Butch’s face split into a wide grin. “April would be just fine, but what pushed you over the edge? I thought you weren’t ready to think about setting a date.”
“Daisy,” Joanna said, holding the phone away long enough to give Butch a brief kiss.
“Daisy?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “You heard her. She told me not to be too predictable.”
When dinner ended, Joanna’s Bronco and Butch’s Subaru were the last two cars in the parking lot. With an almost full moon rising overhead, Butch gathered a shivering Joanna into his arms.
“Any plans for the weekend?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
“I had thought we’d be going to Tucson this weekend to look for a ring, but now that the ring situation is under control, I’ve decided to spend my ring money on something else.”
“What?” Joanna asked.
“Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”
“Tell me.”
“After you told me about your Colt misfiring, I did a little research. It turns out Colt 2000s are notorious for doing just that—misfiring. You need a new gun—another Glock maybe.”
“But, Butch,” Joanna objected, “I paid a ton of money for that gun.”
“And it doesn’t work,” Butch replied. “If you’re going to be my wife and sheriff, too, you’re going to have a gun that works.”
“Right,” Joanna said. “It looks like we’re going shopping.”
About the Author
J.A. JANCE is the American Mystery Award-winning author of the popular J.P. Beaumont mystery series, as well as six previous mysteries featuring Joanna Brady, and the thriller KISS OF THE BEES. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona, Jance lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors and artists.
Other Books by J. A. Jance
Joanna Brady Mysteries
DESERT HEAT
TOMBSTONE COURAGE
SHOOT/DON’T SHOOT
DEAD TO RIGHTS
SKELETON CANYON
RATTLESNAKE CROSSING
OUTLAW MOUNTAIN
DEVIL’S CLAW
PARADISE LOST
J.P. Beaumont Mysteries
UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY
INJUSTICE FOR ALL
TRIAL BY FURY
TAKING THE FIFTH
IMPROBABLE CAUSE
A MORE PERFECT UNION
DISMISSED WITH PREJUDICE
MINOR IN POSSESSION
PAYMENT IN KIND
WITHOUT DUE PROCESS
FAILURE TO APPEAR
LYING IN WAIT
NAME WITHHELD
BREACH OF DUTY
BIRDS OF PREY
and
HOUR OF THE HUNTER
KISS OF THE BEES
PARTNER IN CRIME
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
OUTLAW MOUNTAIN. Copyright © 1999 by J. A. Jance. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Excerpt from devil’s claw copyright © 2000 by J. A. Jance
ePub edition July 2002 eISBN 9780061748806
First Avon Books paperback printing: May 2000
First Avon Books hardcover printing: July 1999
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Outlaw Mountain : A Joanna Brady Mystery (9780061748806) Page 33