Joanna found herself sitting up straighter in the booth. Her grip on the telephone tightened, as though, by holding the device more firmly in her fist, she could somehow force Jay Quick to get to the point and tell her why he had called.
“Yes,” she said smoothly, trying to keep from betraying her rising excitement. “Lucinda Ridder-Sandra Ridder’s fifteen-year-old daughter-has been missing since the night her mother was killed. She is a person of interest in that case. She’s not a viable suspect at this time, although in the course of our investigation, she may turn into one.”
Now it was Joanna’s turn to pause. She waited for Jay Quick to say something. When he did not, she continued. “Why are you asking these questions, Mr. Quick? Do you know something about the missing girl-something that would help us locate her?”
“Lucinda Ridder called my house at three o’clock last Saturday morning. She was looking for my mother. I wondered about it, but I didn’t think anything more about it until a few minutes ago, when I heard about Sandra Ridder on the news.”
“You say Lucy was calling your mother?”
“Yes. Evelyn Quick, my mother. Years ago she used to be Lucinda Ridder’s ballet teacher at the Lohse Family YMCA here in downtown Tucson. Lucy sounded very upset on the phone, and what I had to say didn’t help. My mother’s dead, you see. She died two-almost three-years ago. When I told Lucy that, she just started sobbing. It broke my heart. I asked her what was wrong and was there anything I could do to help, but she said no, no one could help her now. Do you think it’s possible that she killed her own mother, Sheriff Brady? She sounded desperate on the phone. The poor girl’s been through so much trauma for someone her age. I wonder if she didn’t just snap.”
“Did you ask where she was? Get a phone number?”
“I asked, but she wouldn’t tell me. I could hear what sounded like trucks in the background, though. My guess is she was using a pay phone at a truck stop.”
“Whereabouts are you, Mr. Quick?”
“At my office. Quick Custom Metals out on Romero Road in Tucson.”
“Give me your phone number. And your home phone number as well. I’ll try contacting my detectives. If one of them can’t meet with you this afternoon, I will.”
As Joanna hung up the phone, Butch was looking at his watch. “And where exactly is this Mr. Quick?” he asked.
“In Tucson, on Romero Road.”
“And you’re thinking of going up there, seeing him, and still being back in time for dinner at your mother’s?”
“I’m sure I can make it if I have to.”
Butch sighed and shook his head. “Good luck,” he said. “But I’m not holding my breath.”
CHAPTER 13
It was shortly after noon when Joanna left the restaurant. Her cell phone rang the moment she closed the car door. “I just got lucky,” Frank Montoya said.
“Lucky,” Joanna echoed. “Why, Frank, I didn’t know you were even dating.”
“Not that kind of lucky,” he replied wryly. “I got to the Board of Supervisors meeting and found out it was canceled. They had their annual retreat over the weekend at a guest ranch up in the Chiricahuas. This morning the whole bunch of ”em is sicker “n dogs.”
“What was it?” Joanna asked. “Food poisoning?”
“I guess. That’s what it sounds like. So since I happen to have all this unscheduled free time on my hands this afternoon, I was wondering if there was anything in particular you needed me to do.”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Joanna said. “Hold on a minute. Let me give you a phone number.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the notebook in which she had jotted Jay Quick’s number. Once she found it, she read it off to Frank.
“Who’s this?” he asked.
“It’s a telephone number Lucy Ridder called Saturday morning at three a.m. The man’s name is Jay Quick. Years ago, Mr. Quick’s mother, Evelyn, was Lucy Ridder’s ballet teacher at the Lohse Family YMCA in Tucson. Not knowing that Evelyn Quick died some time back, Lucy called the son’s house trying to reach her.”
“That’s a relief then,” Frank breathed. “We may not know where Lucy Ridder is, but at least she’s still alive.”
“She was early Saturday morning,” Joanna returned. “Naturally she didn’t leave a number where she could be reached, but Mr. Quick told me he heard what sounded like eighteen-wheelers rumbling in the background. He thought maybe she was calling from a truck stop.”
“Want me to find out where the call came from?” Frank asked.
Joanna laughed. “How did you guess? Out of my whole department, you’re the best-suited to ferreting information out of faceless corporate entities and balky bureaucrats. Go get ”em, Frank.“
“Was that a compliment or not?” he demanded.
“That’s how it was intended.”
“All right, then. Let me off the phone so I can see if I can live up to it.”
Once Frank hung up, Joanna radioed into the department and asked to be patched through to either Ernie Carpenter or Jaime Carbajal. Since Jaime Carbajal was planning to go to Tucson that afternoon, she hoped he could also stop by and see Jay Quick.
“Where are you?” she asked, when the detective’s voice came over the speaker.
“Between Elfrida and Douglas. We’re on our way to a place east of Douglas, where a border-patrol officer reported spotting an abandoned white Lexus parked along the border fence.”
“Melanie Goodson’s missing Lexus?”
“According to license information, it’s the very one. The officer saw what he believes to be bloodstains in the backseat. I’ve called up and canceled my appointment with Melanie Goodson. Ernie and I talked it over and decided that right this minute it’s more important for us to check out the vehicle than it is to go running up to Tucson to interview secondary witnesses.”
“That’s probably a good call,” Joanna agreed. “Are you going to try to change the appointment to later this afternoon?”
“No. Tomorrow should be plenty of time. Once we finish with the Lexus, Ernie and I will have to hotfoot it back to Bisbee. Doc Winfield is chomping at the bit to tackle the Sandra Ridder autopsy, and one or both of us should be on hand when he does it.”
By that point in the conversation Joanna had driven as far as the traffic circle. At the intersection where she should have turned right to head back to the department, she made a last-minute decision. Since there was no chance Jaime Carbajal was going to go see Jay Quick that afternoon, Joanna decided to copy the Little Red Hen and do so herself. Instead of turning right, she went straight ahead.
“I’m on my way to Tucson right now,” she said. “At three o’clock on Saturday morning, Lucy Ridder attempted to place a phone call to her old ballet instructor up in Tucson.”
“She called somebody?” Jaime demanded. “Where is she, then? Is she all right?”
“I don’t know the answers to any of those questions at the moment,” Joanna told him. “I’m on my way to talk to the instructor’s son and see if I can learn anything more.”
“With this kind of a new lead, do you want either Ernie or me to skip the Lexus and follow up on the Tucson deal instead?” Jaime asked.
“No, that’s all right. I’m fine this way. Now tell me, did you and Ernie learn anything useful out in Elfrida today?”
“Not a whole lot other than the fact that Lucy Ridder wasn’t the most popular girl in town,” Jaime said. “I’d say she’s probably right at the bottom of the heap in Elfrida High School’s social pecking order. We didn’t find a single person who would admit to being her friend.”
“Sounds to me like we’re dealing with the classic teenaged loner,” Joanna observed, thinking of the disaffected youths who had, in recent years, wreaked schoolyard havoc with guns and/or explosives.
“And we’re not the only ones worried about it, either,” Jaime added. “We went out to the ranch and talked to Catherine Yates before we went to the school. She told us that, as far as she knew, Lucy’s only friend was the damned hawk. Then, while we were at the school, the principal’s secretary brought us a message that we should talk with a guy named Wayne Hooper.”