Damage Control

by J. A. Jance

  Longtime Kansas City businessman and philanthropist Jonathan Wolfe, whose empire of auto-parts stores once blanketed the Midwest, was found dead in his Tampa area retirement home yesterday afternoon, mere weeks after his wife, Fern, succumbed to congestive heart failure.

  According to his son Mark, his mother had been ill for a number of years, and her ever-deteriorating condition had taken its toll on his father’s health. “My parents were married for sixty-seven years. I guess it’s not so surprising that he didn’t want to go on without her.”

  Wolfe Brothers Auto Parts was started by Jonathan Wolfe and his younger brother, Benjamin, in 1956. They began with a single Kansas City location, and operated the business as a partnership until Benjamin’s death in 1972. By the time Mr. Wolfe sold the enterprise in 1991, Wolfe Brothers had grown to eighty-seven stores located in sixty-three cities.

  “My father was a smart businessman who saw a need and decided to fill it,” Mark Wolfe said. “He liked the idea of shade-tree mechanics and was one himself, but as vehicles became more and more computerized, he began losing interest. I think the changing technology bothered him. He said he wanted to get out before he turned into a dinosaur.”

  The sale of the Wolfe Brothers franchise to onetime competitor Complete Auto made Complete a major auto-parts player in the region and gave the company a leg up in creating a nationwide retail presence.

  “When he retired, Dad put away his wrenches in favor of a driver and a putter,” his son said. “Until Mother got sick, he played golf every day—winters in Florida and back here in Missouri during the summers. He and his golf-playing cronies out-shot me every time.”

  In 1993, Fern and Jonathan Wolfe created and funded a scholarship program that bears their name. It is designed to help deserving Kansas City high school students who choose to attend in-state schools of higher education by paying their tuition expenses. Five four-year Wolfe scholarships are awarded each year.

  “My father never had a chance to go to college,” Mark Wolfe said, “but he thought education was important. He created the scholarship fund to help young people who might otherwise not be able to go on to college.”

  Reading that passage, Joanna understood what Sandy had meant earlier when she had burst into tears. Alfred and Martha Beasley and Fern and Jonathan Wolfe were part of the last of a very special breed.

  Funeral services are pending in Florida. A joint memorial service for Fern and Jonathan Wolfe will be scheduled here in Kansas City at a later date. Mr. Wolfe is survived by his two sons, Mark of Saint Louis, Missouri, and Lawrence of Tucson, Arizona, and by two grandsons, Tom and Richard Wolfe of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

  There was no way to tell from the article or the names which of Jonathan’s two sons—Mark or Larry—was the father of the two grandsons.

  There was a tap on the conference room door. Closing her laptop, Joanna went to the door. Wendy Cochran, one of the public office clerks, was standing outside.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Sheriff Brady,” she said. “But there’s a man out in the lobby who’s causing a disturbance and demanding to see his wife.”

  “Mr. Wolfe?” Joanna asked.

  Wendy nodded. “That’s the one.”

  “Mr. Wolfe’s wife is here in the conference room,” Joanna said. “You can bring him on down.” She waited by the door. When Wendy returned with the man, Joanna escorted him into the conference room. “This is Larry Wolfe,” she told Ernie and Jaime. “Mrs. Wolfe’s husband.”

  As soon as Larry came through the door, Sandy leaped to her feet and rushed to embrace him. “Oh, Larry!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you. I was so afraid—” The rest of her words were muffled by her husband’s shirt as he wrapped his arms around her.

  “It’s okay now, Sandy. I’m here.” He sent a hard look in Joanna’s direction. “What about her crazy sister? Where’s she?”

  “In the county hospital,” Joanna said. “Under observation.”

  “And hopefully under lock and key,” he said. “From what Sandy told me, it sounds as though Samantha is totally nuts.”

  Sandy pulled away from him. “This is my husband, Larry,” she told the detectives. “And these two nice men are Detectives Carpenter and Carbajal. They’ve been going over everything that happened today. They think Samantha may have been on drugs.”

  “Could be,” Larry said. “Knowing she was on drugs won’t fix anything, but it might at least explain what happened.”

  “Actually, Mr. Wolfe,” Jaime said, “we were just finishing up.”

  “I can go, then?” Sandy asked.

  Jaime nodded.

  “Good,” Larry said, holding her close. “I’m sure she could do with some rest. I did what you said, baby,” he added. “I’ve gotten us a room for the night at the Copper Queen.”

  “Thank you,” Sandy said. “That was so thoughtful of you.”

  He was doing an excellent impersonation of a loving husband, but Joanna wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “If they brought you here, where’s your car? Do we need to go pick it up?”

  “It’s out front,” Joanna said. “I had one of my deputies drive it here.”

  Just then Deb Howell showed up in the hallway behind Joanna. “Okay,” she said. “We’ve finished. Deputy Hogan is unloading the—”

  Before Deb had a chance to blurt out anything more, Joanna took her by the arm. Drawing her away from the conference room door, Joanna steered Deb into her office and closed the door behind them.

  “You’ve collected all the Beasleys’ food?” Joanna asked.

  “Every bit of it,” Deb returned. “The evidence room guys aren’t thrilled, but I managed to squeeze the stuff from the fridge into the evidence room cold-storage locker after all. I left Deputy Sloan up at the house to keep an eye on the place in case we need to take another look around in the daylight.”

  “Good thinking,” Joanna said.

  “Now what?” Deb wanted to know.

  “Were there serial numbers on those two Tante Marie syrup bottles?” Joanna asked.

  “I noticed what looked to be batch codes,” Deb said. “We may be able to tell from that when the product was sold and where it was shipped.”

  “Good,” Joanna said. “I’m guessing we’ll need that information. Now let’s go talk to Ernie and Jaime.”

  The Double Cs, as Detectives Carpenter and Carbajal were known around the department, were not amused when Joanna told them what Deb and Deputy Hogan had been doing and why.

  “If you think eating a chocolate sundae was what sent Samantha Edwards over the edge, wouldn’t it have been nice if you had mentioned it during the interview?” Ernie demanded. “Why the hell did you leave us stumbling around in the dark?”

  “I didn’t want to tip my hand to Larry Wolfe,” Joanna said.

  “So you’re thinking he’s the bad guy here?” Ernie asked.

  “A bad guy who seems to be perpetually short on cash. This may well be a case of murder for profit. If it hadn’t been for Samantha, he might have gotten away with it. The longer Wolfe goes without knowing we’re looking at him, the better off we’ll be.”

  Somewhat mollified, Ernie nodded. “So what now?”

  “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a day. Tomorrow morning first thing, I want you and Deb to track down everything there is to know about Larry Wolfe. Sandy’s the one who mentioned their financial woes to me. I want to know what the situation really is. I also learned that Larry’s parents both died in Tampa last year within a few weeks of each other. It sounds as though the father was a self-made millionaire several times over. The brother, Mark Wolfe, lives in Saint Louis, Missouri. He’s the executor of the parents’ estate. Again, from what Sandy said, the two brothers have been estranged for a long time. Larry has been expecting disbursements from his parents’ estates to bail him out of the soup, but those have evidently been a long time coming.”

  “Are you thinking Larry may have had something to do with his parents’ death
s as well?” Deb asked.

  “It’s worth looking into,” Joanna said.

  “What about me?” Jaime asked. “While Deb and Ernie are tracking on Larry Wolfe, what do you want me to do?”

  “Keep working on Luis,” she told him. “We’ll hope he’s surfaced by then. If not…”

  Jaime nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Luis it is.”

  Joanna was home by seven—two hours later than she was supposed to be, but several hours earlier than she had expected to be. Dinner turned out to be pizza—cold pizza—the remains of several different kinds.

  “Where did these come from?” she asked, munching away on a piece of garlic/artichoke.

  “It turns out the kids Jeff brought down wanted to earn some money,” Butch said with a laugh. “But they work harder for food, especially if whatever is being served happens to be part of the pizza food group.”

  “You got a lot done, then?”

  “An amazing amount,” Butch said. “Especially since I didn’t have to go get the pizza.”

  “You had it delivered? Since when did Pizza Palace start delivering?”

  “They don’t,” Butch replied. “Your mother picked it up and dropped it off.”

  “My mother?”

  “She called right after you left this morning. She was in a great mood and has evidently forgiven me for ratting her out to you. She said she knew you were busy and wanted to know if there was anything I needed. When I told her I could use a couple of pizzas, she brought same. She even let down her hair enough to have a slice or two with us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen pizza pass Eleanor’s lips before.”

  Joanna didn’t remember ever seeing that happen, either.

  “Anyway,” Butch continued, “she and Jeff were talking about the benefit the churchwomen around town are getting ready to do for the Sundersons next week. Your mom came up with a brilliant idea. Carol Sunderson and her grandkids don’t have a place to live right now, and we happen to have an extra house that’s currently vacant. Eleanor suggested maybe Carol would be interested making a trade. What if we offered her and those kids of hers a place to live. They could stay in our old house rent-free or at a minimal rent in exchange for her helping out around here as needed. It would sort of be the reverse of when Clayton Rhodes was alive and helping you with the chores at the old place.”

  Clayton had been Joanna’s longtime neighbor who had owned the adjoining ranch. After Andy’s death and despite the fact that Clayton had been well into his eighties by then, the man had been unstinting in helping Joanna and Jenny with the many chores associated with old High Lonesome Ranch. Later, when he died, Joanna had been astonished to find that the old man had left his ranch to her. The ranches were still deeded separately, but Butch and Joanna had built their new home on the site of Clayton’s old one at the mouth of Mexican Canyon on what they sometimes referred to as the “new” High Lonesome Ranch.

  “If we had some extra help around here, so I didn’t have to worry about you having to handle everything on your own, maybe I could do that book tour. Jenny thinks it’s a great idea, by the way,” Butch added. “She’s all for it.”

  Joanna was instantly irate. “I thought my mother was going to help out while you were doing that,” she said. “And you’ve already discussed this with Jenny?”

  “Not me,” Butch said. “Your mother discussed it with Jenny. And don’t blame me. Eleanor’s the one who evidently changed her mind about helping out during the tour. As I remember, you weren’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of her hanging around. Still, Joey, just because your mother came up with the idea doesn’t make it bad.”

  “It doesn’t make it good, either,” Joanna said. “I’m going to go change my clothes.”

  And try to bury my temper tantrum while I’m at it, Joanna thought. What gives my mother the right to come waltzing in here, buying pizza, and interfering with our lives?

  It was one of those nights when Dennis had no intention of being put into his crib without a fight—one that lasted for the better part of two hours. While Butch fought that battle, Joanna cleaned up the kitchen, emptied and loaded the dishwasher, took a load of clothes out of the dryer, and generally made herself useful. The fact that the three dogs stuck with her like glue the whole time told her that Jenny had to be off spending the night someplace. Dennis was still crying at the top of his lungs when the phone rang. Calls that came in at this hour of the night seldom brought good news. This one did.

  “You’ll never guess where I found him,” Jaime Carbajal announced.

  “Luis?” Joanna asked. “You mean he’s all right?”

  “Yes, he is, but the little twerp is lucky I didn’t knock his block off. I sure as hell wanted to.”

  “Where was he?”

  “Hiding out in the toolshed in my own backyard,” Jaime said, relief ringing in every word. “Can you believe it? After dinner I came into the kitchen and caught Pepe smuggling food out of the fridge. When I asked him what he was doing with it, he said he was taking it to Luis. He’s been right here under my nose the whole time I’ve been looking for him. He caught a ride with someone from Naco to here and was waiting out back when Pepe and I came home from the ball game. After Delcia and I were asleep, he knocked on Pepe’s window and asked him for help. The two of them rigged up a cot out in the toolshed with an air mattress and an old bedroll. They even found an old fan and plugged it in. As hot as it was last night, it’s probably a good thing he had a fan.”

  Joanna was still playing catch-up. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What was he doing there? Why did he run away?”

  “I asked Luis the same questions, but he wouldn’t answer. He claims he can’t tell me anything until he talks to his mom. After being in the same clothes for a couple of days, he was pretty ripe. Right this minute he’s in the shower while Delcia runs his clothes through the washer and dryer. Once he’s cleaned up and presentable, we’ll go see Marcella. I already tried calling her, but there was no answer.”

  “Good job, Jaime,” Joanna said. “I’m thrilled to know he’s okay.”

  “That goes double for me.”

  Dennis finally settled down. Butch came back into the living room just as Joanna was hanging up the phone. “Do you have to go in?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “Jaime’s nephew has been among the missing, and now he’s been found.”

  “Good,” Butch said.

  “And speaking of being among the missing, where’s Jenny?”

  “Spending the night with Jim Bob and Eva Lou. They asked and I let her go. It’s not a problem, is it?”

  “No,” Joanna said. “Of course not. How could it be?” But it was a problem. She could have mentioned it when I talked to her on the phone, Joanna thought.

  “So how much did you and your crew get done?” she asked.

  “Hauled out most of the garbage. The plumbing is pretty well trashed. We’ll have to replace both toilets, and they weren’t that old. We should put in a new kitchen sink and dishwasher, too, while we’re at it. Tomorrow, I’ll have the kids finish mucking out the floors. Then I’ll tear out that old linoleum. I want to lay tile in the kitchen, laundry room, and bathrooms. They all should have been tiled to begin with. After all that, once we put on a coat of paint, it’ll be like new.”

  Even after a long day of hard physical labor, Butch’s enthusiasm for the job was infectious. Joanna knew he loved tackling remodeling jobs almost as much as he enjoyed writing. The two tasks might be at seemingly opposite ends of the creativity spectrum, but Butch was good at both. Their renter had managed to demolish the house before reneging on his rent and taking off. Instead of focusing on the disaster, Butch was determined to fix the house and make it better.

  “So what went on in your world today?” Butch asked. “Jenny told me that you’d called and said you’d most likely be late. What was that all about?”

  Joanna sat down on the couch. Lady climbed up next to her and put her head in Joanna’s lap. Stroking
the dog’s smooth head may have been comforting for the dog, but Joanna knew it was good for her, too.

  “We had a hostage situation, but it worked out all right,” she said offhandedly, without adding that she’d been right in the thick of things, doing the negotiations with an armed assailant. If there was media coverage of the standoff, Butch would probably learn what had really gone on, but right that minute, Joanna didn’t want to discuss it.

  “One of the two sisters from the other night—the ones whose parents drove off the cliff the other day—had some kind of mental meltdown,” she continued. “Once we had her in custody, we shipped her down to the county hospital for observation.” Joanna didn’t mention that there was a possibility of poisoning being involved. “We made some progress on the case involving those bones that showed up out of the wash down by Naco the other night. Now that Jaime’s nephew has been found safe, I’d have to say it was a pretty good day.”

  And I’m on the trail of a woman who may have been having an affair with Andy, Joanna thought to herself, a woman who may have been pregnant with Andy’s child.

  Joanna couldn’t help noticing how much she was leaving out of the conversation. That was how cops got through their lives on a daily basis—how they coped—by editing what they told their families about what had gone on at work. They downplayed the stuff that was dangerous or hurt too much; they told stories about good guys and bad guys, making sure that what they were saying was relatively light. They probably thought they were editing their stories for their family’s benefit, but Joanna suspected it was also a matter of self-defense. That was how cops managed to keep the tough stuff they saw from themselves, too. By holding things at arm’s length, they managed to stave off their own mental difficulties.