“Not yet,” Joanna admitted. “I haven’t told anyone, not even Eva Lou and Jim Bob.”
Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady, Joanna’s former in-laws, were still very much a part of her and Jenny’s lives and of Butch’s, too. “I decided that the best way to keep peace in the family was to tell Mother first, although I did mention it to Frank.”
“What did he have to say on the subject?”
“I told him about our idea of giving Marliss an exclusive. He didn’t like it much.”
“Maybe we should listen to him,” Butch said. “After all, he’s in charge of media relations.”
“But it’s our baby,” Joanna objected. “And we’re doing this our way.”
94
Butch chuckled. “Our way or the highway.”
Which sounded fine, right up until dessert was served, which is when Joanna finally screwed up her courage enough to drop the bomb.
“You’re not!” Eleanor Lathrop Winfield exclaimed at once, pushing aside her untouched dish of homemade ice cream.
Joanna nodded. “I am,” she said.
“What are you going to do, then, drop out of the race? Resign?”
“Neither one,” Joanna answered. “I’m going to run for reelection and hopefully win.”
Eleanor immediately appealed to Butch. “Surely you’re not going to let her do this.”
“Let?” Butch asked mildly. “This isn’t up to me, Eleanor. It’s up to Joanna.”
“George,” Eleanor said. “You tell them. It’s just not possible to be a new mother and sheriff all at the same time.”
“Why not?” George asked, carefully spooning his ice cream.
“Yes,” Jenny agreed. “Why not?”
“Who’s going to look after the baby?” Eleanor demanded.
“I am,” Butch said.
“Have you ever taken care of a baby before?”
“Never,” Butch said. “But that’s the way it usually is with first-time parents-on-the-job training. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”
“He cooks a mean steak,” George Winfield offered. Eleanor answered her husband’s comment with a scathing look.
“Jeff Daniels takes care of Jeffy and Ruth,” Jenny said. “Don’t you think he does a good job?”
“That’s different,” Eleanor scoffed. “Marianne is a minister. She isn’t out being shot at and beaten up by all kinds of riffraff.”
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“I’m not either,” Joanna said quietly.
That was one of the many differences between Joanna and her mother. When Eleanor was upset, her volume went up. Joanna’s went down.
“Oh?” returned Eleanor sharply. “I suppose that scar on your face is some kind of birth defect?”
Joanna felt her face flush, knowing when she did so that the long scar on her cheek, a souvenir from an encounter with an enraged suspect’s diamond ring, would stand out that much more clearly.
“With all these working mothers, it’s no wonder we’re having such problems with juvenile delinquents.”
Joanna knew that the statistics on the incidence of juvenile delinquency were down, not up, but now was no time to insert actual facts into Eleanor’s diatribe.
“What would have become of you if I’d been gallivanting off to a job every day from the moment you were born?” Eleanor demanded.
Before Joanna could reply, Jenny beat her to it. “What about me?” she asked. “Mom’s been working the whole time I’ve been around. I’ve turned out all right, haven’t I?”
The phone rang just then. Glad for any excuse to escape the escalating dining room battle, Joanna hurried to answer it.
“Sheriff Brady?” an agitated Tom Hadlock said.
“Yes,” Joanna replied. “What’s up?”
“We’ve lost one,” Hadlock replied.
“One what?”
‘A prisoner. Richard Osmond.”
Joanna was stunned. “What do you mean, you lost him? Did he go over the fence, or what?”
“No,” Hadlock said. “He’s dead. We did a roll call once we 97
had everyone back inside, and Osmond was missing. We found him outside, lying on one of the picnic table benches. He was hidden in a shadow. Nobody knew he was there.”
“Somebody knew,” Joanna said grimly. “They just aren’t telling. I’m on my way.”
“Tica Romero’s trying to get hold of Doc Winfield,” Hadlock continued.
“Tell her not to bother. He’s here with me. I’ll bring him along when I come. She’s calling out one of the Double C’s?”
“That’s right,” Hadlock answered. “I believe she said Ernie’s on call. I’m really sorry about this, Sheriff Brady. We had guards and deputies all over that yard the whole time the prisoners were out there. I can’t imagine how something like this could have happened.”
“Was he stabbed, beaten up, what?” Joanna demanded.
“There are no apparent wounds, no sign of foul play” Hadlock said. “He’s just lying there on his back, peaceful as can be, like he fell asleep. We didn’t move him, though, so there could be something on his back that isn’t showing.”
“We’ll find out when we get there,” Joanna said. “Is the jail under lockdown?”
“Yes, it is,” Hadlock replied. “It’s a shame to have to do that. I mean, other than this, no other unfortunate incidents at all.”
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, Mr. Hadlock,” Joanna said tersely, “finding a dead prisoner is unfortunate enough for me.”
Joanna put down the phone and returned to the dining room. The people gathered around the table were quiet. They all looked at her expectantly. “I guess you heard, then,”
she said. “There’s a problem at the jail. We have to go, George. You can ride with me.”
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EXIT WOUNDS
Nodding, the ME wiped his face with his napkin, folded it, and then pushed his chair back. “Do you want me to drive you home first, Ellie?”
“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself,” Eleanor returned.
George paused long enough to give her a peck on the cheek. “All right, then,” he said. “See you at home.”
Butch, in the meantime, gave Joanna a raised-eyebrow look that said volumes about his being left alone to deal with Eleanor. All Joanna could do was give him a shrugged apology.
When she opened the door that led to her garage, the three dogs were all inside.
Tigger greeted George happily. Lucky went up and dribbled a stream of pee on George’s highly polished loafer while the Australian shepherd skittered away. When Joanna opened the outside door, she disappeared into the night.
“Where did all these dogs come from?” George asked. “Isn’t that little one the pup you were carrying around last night at the Mossman crime scene?”
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “And I adopted the spooky Australian shepherd from the pound this morning.”
“It’s a good thing Ellie didn’t see the new dogs earlier when we drove up,” George said. “It would have been that much more grist for her mill.”
“Will be,” Joanna corrected.
They got into the Crown Victoria and started down the road. Worried that the dogs might try to follow her out to the highway, Joanna kept a close eye on the rearview mirror. She turned onto Highway 80 without seeing any sign of pursuit.
“Where did this happen?” George Winfield was asking. “In one of the cells?”
“No. Out in the rec yard. The air-conditioning broke down 98
earlier this afternoon. I had all the inmates moved out into the yard while they were working on it. I didn’t want anyone dying of heatstroke.”
“You had all the prisoners in the yard at once?” George asked.
“We had extra personnel on duty. I didn’t think anything would happen.”
“But it has,” George said.
“And it’s not going to look very good, is it,” Joanna replied. “It seems like it’s one thing after another. First all those dogs died, and now this.”