by J. A. Jance
“You can’t go riding, Jenny. It’s going to rain.”
Jenny sighed, made another face, and flounced back into the house. When Joanna returned to the kitchen, she discovered that Butch had beaten her to the punch as far as doing dishes was concerned. The dishwasher was loaded and he was cleaning the last of the pots and pans by hand.
“Looks like I dodged KP,” she said.
‘Again,” Butch said.
They went home shortly after that. Jenny, still in a huff, closeted herself in her room. Butch and Joanna spent the remainder of Sunday afternoon in relative quiet.
They were halfway through 60 Minutes when the phone rang.
“Here we go again,” Butch said as he rose to answer it. “I knew this was too good to last. Oh, there, George,” he said into the phone. “No, hang on. She’s right here.”
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“What’s going on?” Joanna said to Doc Winfield.
“We’ve got a problem with Ed Mossman.”
“Ed Mossman?” Joanna said. “Carol’s father? I thought he was in Mexico. As far as I know, he hasn’t even been notified.”
“He’s been notified, all right,” George Winfield observed. ‘And he’s on the warpath.”
“What about?”
‘According to the grandmother, she was Carol’s next of kin. At her direction, I had made arrangements for the body to be released to Higgins Funeral Chapel in the morning.
Edith wants Carol to be buried here in Bisbee. Ed Mossman claims he’s making arrangements to ship the body back down to Mexico. Not only that, when he called here to the house, he was rude to your mother and downright abusive to me. He even threatened his own mother.”
“He threatened Edith?”
“That’s right. He said she’s already caused enough trouble between him and his daughters and he’s not going to stand for her keeping him away from Carol now that she’s dead.
He wants her buried next to her mother in the family plot in Obregon.”
“Wanting to bury his daughter next to her mother is fine,” Joanna said. “Threatening Edith Mossman isn’t. What did you tell him?”
“To come by the office tomorrow morning. He said he’d be there at nine.”
“I will be, too,” Joanna said.
“There is one other thing,” George Winfield added.
“What’s that?”
“Speaking of next of kin, has anyone done anything to locate Carol Mossman’s child?”
“What child?” Joanna asked.
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“I take it you haven’t read my autopsy report?”
“I’ve been a little pressed for time,” Joanna returned. “What child?”
“Carol Mossman bore at least one child,” George said. “It was delivered by C-section.
She also had a complete hysterectomy. From the scarring, I’d say both the C-section and hysterectomy were done at the same time by a surgeon who wasn’t exactly the head of his class.”
“It was bad?”
“Let’s just say it was unskilled,” George said. ‘And as bad as the hysterectomy was, it’s likely that the child didn’t survive, but we should clarify the situation just to be on the safe side. If you want me to, I can call Edith Mossman and ask her.”
“No,” Joanna said. “She’s been through enough. I’ll ask Eddie Mossman about it myself in the morning.”
She put down the phone. Butch had muted the television set. Andy Rooney’s mouth was moving, but no words could be heard.
“A looming funeral battle?” Butch asked.
Joanna nodded.
Butch shook his head. “I hate it when that happens. Funeral fights are the worst.
My grandparents both wanted to be buried in Sun City. Gramps hated Chicago. He told me once that the last thing he wanted was to spend eternity buried under drifts of Chicago snow and ice. He asked me, over and over, to make sure that didn’t happen, and I promised him I would.
“He and Grandma died within weeks of each other. The minute Gramps was gone, my mother and aunts and uncles came riding into town on their broomsticks. They had Grandma’s casket dug up and then they shipped both Grandma and Grandpa back home to bury them.
It’s years later, Joey, and I’m
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still pissed about it. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t gone back home to visit.
I’d as soon punch my aunts’ and uncles’ lights out as look at them.”
“I never knew any of that,” Joanna said quietly.
“No,” Butch agreed. “I don’t suppose you did. I’m still ashamed of myself for letting him down-for not putting up more of a fight. But I was only the grandson. No one was interested in listening to me.”
Joanna reached over and put a comforting hand on Butch’s leg. “I’m sure you did the best you could,” she said quietly.
“Right,” he said bitterly. “Sure I did, but it wasn’t good enough.”
With 60 Minutes over, Joanna went into the den, turned on her computer, and wrote up a report on everything she had learned during her trip to Lordsburg. When she finished, she emailed it to Frank Montoya at the office. That way, even if she didn’t go in right away in the morning, the report would be there.
“Reports come first,” D. . Lathrop used to say. “If you’re not doing the paper, you’re not doing the job.”
Twenty-four hours late, Dad, she said to herself. But the paper’s there.
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I
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Good as her word, Joanna was at the Cochise County Medical Examiner’s office by eight forty-five the next morning. Busy on the phone, Nell Long, the ME’s receptionist, waved Joanna toward George Winfield’s open office door.
‘Any sign of Mr. Mossman?” Joanna asked, peering around the doorjamb into her stepfather’s office.
“Not so far,” George replied. “But I have an idea he’ll be here shortly. Have a chair.
How are you feeling?”
“I’m still a puking mess every morning,” Joanna returned. “I’m hoping that’ll settle down in a few weeks. At least that’s how it worked when I was pregnant with Jenny.”
“I never had a chance to say anything about the other night-with Ellie, I mean,”
George Winfield said. “I thought she was way out of line, and I told her so. In other words, if it’s any consolation, Joanna, I think she’s as provoked with me right now as she is with you.”
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“The old misery-loves-company routine,” Joanna said with a hollow laugh. It was easier to make light of Eleanor Lathrop Winfield’s rantings and ravings when she was well out of earshot.
“Something like that,” George agreed.
“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ve known Mother a lot longer than you have, George.
She’ll get over it eventually.” Joanna made the statement with more conviction than she felt. There were some things Eleanor Lathrop never got over.
“What about you?” George asked.
“I’m going to go ahead and do what I do,” Joanna told him. “Eleanor will have to like it or lump it.”
“Good girl,” George said. “Way to go!”
The telephone rang. Nell answered it. A moment later, her voice sounded on George’s intercom. “Edith Mossman is on the line.”
“Great,” George said. “Just what I need. I love being caught in the cross fire between battling relatives.” He picked up his phone. “Good morning, Mrs. Mossman. What can I do for you?”
There was a pause. A frown appeared on George Winfield’s brow. The longer Edith Mossman talked, the deeper grew the lines on George’s forehead.
“Yes, that’s true. He is coming in this morning. I’m expecting him in the next few minutes. And no, I’m not sure who notified him. Someone from the sheriff’s department, I should imagine.”
Another pause. “No, I’m really not involved in all that. I release the body to the mortuary. After that, it
’s up to the family to handle things from there.”
There was another long silence on the medical examiner’s part. Joanna couldn’t make out any of the words, but the angry
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buzz of Edith Mossman’s shrill voice hummed through the telephone receiver and out into the room.
“Really, Mrs. Mossman, that’s not up to me. You’ll need to discuss it with Norm Higgins and with your son. I’m sure if you’ll just sit down and talk, you and he will be able to sort all this out-“
Suddenly, a dial tone replaced the sound of Edith Mossman’s voice.
“She hung up on me,” George said, staring first at the phone and then at Joanna.
“I don’t think she liked what you had to say.”
“No kidding! But it’s true. My job is to release the body to the mortuary. It’s up to the family to figure out who takes charge from there.”
“Mr. Mossman to see you,” Nell Long announced over the intercom.
“Saved by the bell,” George Winfield said, raising an eyebrow as he rose to greet the newcomer Nell Long showed into his office.
Somehow Joanna had expected there to be more to Eddie Mossman than what she saw.
He was a pint-size bantam rooster of man, only an inch or two taller than Joanna’s five feet four. Wiry and tanned, he had a bottle-brush mustache and piercing blue eyes. For some reason, he seemed familiar, even though Joanna doubted she had ever seen him before.
“Dr. Winfield?” Mossman asked.
George nodded. “That would be me,” he said. ‘And this,” he added, indicating Jo anna, “is Sheriff Joanna Brady.”
Edward Mossman wasn’t interested in pleasantries. ‘As I told you on the phone, I’m here for Carol’s body.”
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‘And as I told you on the phone, it hasn’t been released yet,” George returned evenly.
“I haven’t yet prepared the death certificate. When it’s finished, I’ll be releasing the body to Norm Higgins at Higgins Mortuary and Funeral Chapel. I believe your mother has already discussed arrangements with them. If you want to change those, you’ll have to discuss it with them and her.”
“I’ve already been to see Norm Higgins. Tried to, anyway. Since Mother has already made a deposit on those ‘arrangements,’ as you call them, no one at the Higgins outfit will give me the time of day. I want the body to go to someone else. I’ve contacted a mortuary over in Nogales that’s accustomed to transporting bodies in and out of Mexico. I want you to release Carol’s body to them.”
“I’m sure Norm Higgins could assist you with that as well,” George Winfield replied.
“In the meantime, I think it would be more to the point if you and your mother met and sorted this whole thing out before you involve some other mortuary in an already complicated situation. Your mother-“
“My mother’s an interfering old lady,” Ed Mossman said. “She has no right to usurp my authority like this. After all, I am Carol’s father. Doesn’t that give me some right to decide about things like this? And who the hell are you to say that I don’t?
If I have to go back there, find Carol,_and carry her out of here myself, my daughter’s body is coming back to Mexico with me. Understand?”
With that and still bristling with anger, Ed Mossman slammed his doubled-up fist on the top of George’s desk. The Tiffany crystal clock Eleanor had given her new husband as a wedding present skittered toward the edge of the desk. George caught it in time and returned it to its original place.
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Thinking things had gone far enough, Joanna stepped into the fray. “Excuse me, Mr.
Mossman,” she put in. “If you’ll allow me-“
“Allow you what? I believe I was speaking with Dr. Winfield here,” Mossman growled at her. “I don’t remember anyone asking for your opinion.”
“No one asked because they don’t have to. I get to give my opinion, because it happens that my department is investigating your daughter’s murder,” Joanna returned evenly.
“Like it or not, that means you’ll be speaking to me and to my investigators. In the meantime, Mr. Mossman, I would advise you to have a seat and adopt a less threatening demeanor. If not, I’ll be forced to call for backup and throw you in jail for disturbing the peace. Is that clear?”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Ed Mossman sneered, but he did settle himself into a chair.
“Good,” Joanna said. She reached into her purse, removed her cell phone, and used her one-touch dialing system to reach Dispatch. “Are either Detective Carbajal or Ernie Carpenter in yet?” she asked.
“Jaime’s here at the office,” Larry Kendrick said. “As I understand it, Ernie’s on his way.”
“I want them both here at Doc Winfield’s office as soon as possible,” Joanna said.
“There’s someone here who needs to give them a next-of-kin interview.”
She paused. If they were going to interview Ed Mossman, the two detectives needed to know that Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega had been prepared to pay good money for whatever Carol Mossman had to say. Jaime and Ernie also needed to know that the two murdered reporters had been on the trail of Ed Mossman and his fellow Brethren.
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“Try to turn Ernie around and have Jaime check in with Chief Deputy Montoya before he comes here,” Joanna told Larry. “I faxed my report from Saturday to Frank last night. I want the Double Cs, both Ernie and Jaime, to know about it before they do the next-of-kin interview.”
“Who’s that?” Ed Mossman asked once Joanna ended the call. “Who are the two guys you just asked to come here?”
“Detectives Carpenter and Carbajal are my homicide detectives,” Joanna replied.
“Why do they need to interview me?” Mossman demanded. “I wasn’t anywhere around when Carol was murdered.”
“Did I say you were a suspect?” Joanna asked.
“No, but-“
“In homicide investigations we routinely question everyone connected to the victim.
Since that person is already dead, we talk to friends and relatives in order to gain a better idea of who all might be involved. You are Carol’s next of kin, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Mossman answered. “I already told you. Of course I am.”
“So my detectives need to interview you.”
“But it’s just routine then, right?” Mossman asked warily.
‘Absolutely. They’re just minutes away, so it won’t take long for them to get here.
In the meantime, would you mind telling me how you heard about Carol’s death? I know one of my deputies contacted the police in Obregon, and they agreed to do the notification, but-“
“My daughter called me,” Mossman interrupted.
“Which one?”
“Does it matter?” Mossman said. “The point is, one of them 244
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did. And, once I knew Carol was dead, I came here to do something about it.”
Joanna Brady had spent only a few minutes with Eddie Mossman, but already she had some idea of why the man’s own mother held him in such contempt. He was pushy and obnoxious, but there was something else about him, something about his carriage and attitude that she didn’t like. And now, as he disregarded her question, little warning bells jangled alarmingly in her head. Suddenly it seemed vitally important for her to learn exactly where Ed Mossman had been when he first learned of Carol’s murder, but Joanna didn’t want to give that away. Instead, she smiled what she hoped to be her most convincingly sincere smile.
“Of course it doesn’t matter, Mr. Mossman,” she assured him. “It doesn’t matter at all.”
Across the desk from her, George Winfield’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Obviously he recognized the lie for what it was. Joanna was grateful, however, that the ME
managed to keep his mouth shut about it.
“Is there anyone else you’d like us to notify?” Joanna continued disarmingly. “Besid
es your daughters and your mother, that is. Any spouses, former spouses, or boyfriends?”
“I don’t know of anyone else,” Mossman grumbled. “Notifying my mother first was bad enough.”
“Actually, your mother found out about Carol’s death all on her own,” Joanna told him. “She came to your daughter’s place shortly after Carol’s body had been discovered by one of my officers. Carol was evidently in dire financial straits, and your mother was coming to offer help. You wouldn’t know anything about your daughter’s financial situation, would you?”
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“I don’t know anything. Carol and I stopped speaking years ago,” Ed Mossman said.
“It happened about the same time my mother encouraged Carol and two of my other daughters to run away.”
“So your mother and you aren’t on what you’d call the best of terms.”
“I believe I did mention that.”
“And you were estranged from Carol, too?”
Mossman glowered at her. “Carol was always headstrong and irresponsible, even when she was little. And the fact that my mother was always -willing to step in and bail her out didn’t help matters any. If she had run away all on her own, I probably wouldn’t have worried. She was twenty by then-a grownup. But she took off with her two younger sisters in tow. I do blame my mother for that. If she hadn’t stepped in to help them back then, none of this would have happened.”
“So you’re saying your mother is ultimately responsible for Carol’s death?”
‘Absolutely,” Ed Mossman said with a decisive nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Joanna’s phone, still in her hand, let out a sharp little crow. Looking at the readout, Joanna saw her mother’s number. For once Joanna Brady was thrilled at the idea of an Eleanor Lathrop interruption. It gave her a much-needed reason to escape the confines of George Winfield’s office.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, heading for the door, “I need to take this call.”
The phone rang twice more before Joanna made it through the outside door and answered.
“Oh, there you are,” Eleanor said. “I was about to leave a message.”
“I had to come outside to answer.”
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“Well,” Eleanor huffed, “if it’s inconvenient for you to talk to me right now, I can always call back later.”