“What for?” Joanna asked.
“She showed up to be Reba Singleton’s hired gun,” George Winfield replied.
“To do Clayton Rhodes’ autopsy?” Joanna asked. George nodded. “How’d it go?”
“Pretty much the way I said it would,” George replied. “Fran Daly says the same thing I did-Clayton Rhodes died as a result of a cerebral hemorrhage. That should get Reba off your back for good and all. And now that I’ve released the body and Little Norm Higgins from the funeral home has collected it, Reba should be off my back, too.”
“When’s the funeral?” Joanna asked.
“According to Little Norm, they’ve scheduled it for tomorrow at two. Reba says she wants to have it ASAP so she can get back home to California, which is good riddance as far as I’m concerned.” He added, “And while we’re on the subject of autopsies, I know what killed Sandra Ridder-loss of blood combined with peritonitis. If the Volksmarchers had found her in the morning and she’d been treated with massive doses of antibiotics, she might have made it. But as it was…” George shrugged.
Joanna glanced at Butch to see how he was handling this graphic dinnertime discussion. Chewing thoughtfully, he seemed unfazed.
“Will you be going to Clayton’s funeral?” he asked Joanna, as if just then becoming aware of a pause in the previous conversation.
She nodded. “Yes, of course I am.”
“And Jenny?”
“I don’t know. I’ll leave that up to her. When we first talked about it, I know she was planning on going. Why?”
“I want to take the folks out sight-seeing tomorrow,” Butch said. “It’s better than having my mother prowling around my house all day, looking through drawers and opening my cupboards. Besides, they’ve never been in southern Arizona. I wanted to show them the sights-the Wonderland of Rocks, Boot Hill, maybe even Kartchner Caverns.”
“Sounds like a big day.”
Butch nodded. “I’m hoping to wear them out. Maybe that way they’ll be ready to go back out to the park at a decent hour in order to get some sleep. But if I have to be back in time to take care of Jenny after school…”
“Don’t worry about Jenny, Butch,” Joanna told him. “She’ll probably go to the funeral with me. And, if need be, she can come out to the department after that and stay until it’s time to go home.”
“Good,” Butch said. “That’s one less thing for me to worry about.”
Just then Eleanor stormed into the kitchen. “Just what do you three think you’re doing hiding out in here?”
“Eating,” George replied mildly.
“But the company is outside,” Eleanor huffed. “We’re all supposed to be out there together, so we can get better acquainted.”
“I’m sure Butch knows his parents well enough,” George returned. “But Joanna and I needed a little time to talk business. I didn’t think you’d want your company meal disrupted by discussion about autopsies and such.”
Eleanor’s face fell. “You weren’t really, were you, George?” She turned to Butch. “Is he telling me the truth? Were they really talking about autopsies at the dinner table?”
Butch sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say they were, Eleanor. I swear to God!”
“Well!” she exclaimed. “I never!”
With that, Eleanor Winfield turned and flounced back outside, missing Butch’s grin and George Winfield’s answering wink. “I’ll pay for that later,” he said. “But it was worth it.”
By then, though, Joanna’s conscience was beginning to bother her. “Shouldn’t someone go rescue Eva Lou and Jim Bob?”
“Naw,” George said. “Don’t worry. Those two have been around. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”
CHAPTER 17
By seven-thirty the next morning, Joanna was driving Jenny to school. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Joanna said. “What’s going on?”
“Did you like them?”
“Who?”
“Did you like Butch’s parents?” Jenny asked.
After years of telling her daughter that honesty was the best policy, Joanna decided a truthful answer was the best option. “Not very much,” she admitted.
“Me, either,” Jenny replied. “Mrs. Dixon seems really mean, and Mr. Dixon… well, he kept asking me all kinds of dumb questions. You know, the kind of questions grown-ups ask kids when they think they have to talk to them but they really don’t have anything to say.”
“I agree. They were both pretty annoying,” Joanna said. “But remember, they say you can choose your friends, but you’re stuck with your relatives.”
“They’re not our relatives,” Jenny declared.
“They will be,” Joanna told her daughter grimly. “Since they’re Butch’s relatives, they’re going to end up being our relatives, too. We’ll just have to do our best to figure out a way to get along with them.”
“Okay,” Jenny said, nodding. “But I’m not going to like them any better.”
For the next few minutes, mother and daughter rode in silence. Finally, Joanna tackled another topic. “What about Clayton’s funeral?” she asked. “Have you made up your mind yet about whether or not you’re going to go?”
Jenny nodded. “I want to go,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added, “No, that’s not true. I don’t want to go, but I’m going anyway. Clayton was my friend-our friend-and I want to be there.”
“Good girl,” Joanna said. “I’ll call the school from my office and let them know that I’ll be by to pick you up at one-thirty. Since the funeral’s scheduled for two, that should be plenty of time.”
Only after Jenny jumped out of the Blazer and slammed the door did Joanna let her mind focus on her scheduled coming-to-God meeting with Kristin Marsten and Terry Gregovich. She had watched the blossoming romance between her secretary and the K-9 officer with amused tolerance. As long as they had remained discreet about it and hadn’t let their relationship get in the way of work, she had been willing to go along with it. Her department had no hard and fast rules about fraternizing between officers and staff as long as there was no inappropriate relationship between supervisors and reporting employees and as long as the relationship didn’t interfere with the performance of respective duties.
Clearly, though, what had happened the day before was anything but discreet. Joanna knew all about young love. After all, she was in love herself. She didn’t like being forced into taking a hard-nosed position, but as an elected administrator, it was her job to supervise her employees and see to it that they maintained a clear-cut line between love and duty. If Kristin and Terry weren’t prepared to function with a suitable degree of separation between their professional and personal lives, then, as sheriff, Joanna had to be prepared to demand someone’s resignation.
At the Cochise County Justice Complex, Joanna parked the Blazer in her reserved spot. As she stepped out of the SUV, she paused long enough to glance around the lot. It was only five of eight, but she noticed that both Kristin’s red Geo and Terry’s blue four-by-four were already in the parking lot. They were parked side by side in the farthest corner of the farthest row. So much for maintaining any kind of discretion.
Shaking her head, Joanna used the electronic keypad to let herself directly into her corner office through a private entrance-one that avoided her having to traverse the public lobby areas. Once in her office, she straightened her desk before squaring her shoulders and walking over to open the door that led to the outer reception area. A pale-faced, stricken Kristin sat at her desk. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were puffy and red. Across from her, Terry Gregovich sat on the waiting-room-style love seat, with Spike curled comfortably at his feet. The K-9 officer sat still and straight in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.