“Cynthia? The poor girl was a mousy little thing who never worked outside the home.
If she had-if she’d had a job and money of her own-maybe she could have left Eddie just like some of those other women are doing, but back then, there wouldn’t have been anyone like God’s Angels to help her. As far as Cynthia was concerned, Eddie was the head of the family, and his word was law. She did as she was told. If I’d had any idea about what was really going on, I would have tried to do something, but I didn’t know. Not at the time. Not until it was too late to do any good. But why are you asking about Eddie’s job? What does his job with PD have to do with any of this?”
Joanna wasn’t prepared to reveal details about the unusual weapon information that had telegraphed the connection between Carol Mossman’s death and the murders in New Mexico.
“Just wondering,” she said. A moment later she added, “When did you first hear that your son was in town?”
“Yesterday,” Edith said. “Yesterday afternoon. He phoned 268
and ordered me to call the mortuary and tell them that Carol’s body should be released to him rather than to me. I told him to go fly a kite, that I’d already made the arrangements. He said I couldn’t do that, that she was his daughter and he’d have the final say. I told him to go ahead and try.”
“Did he happen to mention how he found out about Carol’s murder?”
“No.”
“Or when he came to town?”
“No. He didn’t tell me that, either. You have to understand, Sheriff Brady, it wasn’t a pleasant phone call. He was yelling at me the whole time, and I was yelling right back.”
It was time for Joanna to ask the critical question straight out. “Mrs. Mossman,”
Joanna said, “do you think it’s possible that your son murdered his own daughter?”
“You mean, do I think Eddie killed Carol?” Edith shook her head. “No, I doubt that’s possible, but I almost wish he had. At least that way, I’d have the satisfaction of seeing him shipped off to prison for the rest of his life, the way he deserves.
You see, Sheriff Brady, I wrestled with that same question myself all last night.
If Eddie was the one who murdered Carol, why on earth would he come back here to try and claim her body? Why not just go straight back to Mexico and stay there? Nobody’s going to bother going all the way down to Obregon to bring him back. Eddie’s stupid, but surely he’s not that stupid. Besides, what would be his motive to kill her?”
“Maybe he didn’t want Carol to go public with her story,” Joanna suggested.
“Why would he object to that?” Edith asked. “Eddie’s proud of the way he lives. He doesn’t think he has anything to be ashamed of. As far as he’s concerned, he’s right and everybody
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else is wrong. And since the people he hangs around with all hold the same beliefs, why would he care?”
“Maybe some of them care,” Joanna said. “There are other Brethren, aren’t there?
Maybe some of the ones who live in this country aren’t interested in being quite so blatant about it. Maybe one of them wanted to keep the interview from taking place.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Edith said, pushing her plate away.
“Wasn’t the enchilada any good?” Daisy asked when she came to pick up their dirty dishes. “I’d be glad to get you something else.”
Edith shook her head. “The food was fine,” she said. “For some reason, I seem to have lost my appetite.”
Daisy looked at Joanna’s plate. “You, too?” she asked.
“Me, too,” Joanna said.
She paid for their virtually uneaten lunches and was helping Edith Mossman into the Civvie when her cell phone rang. Joanna answered the call while stowing Edith’s walker in the backseat. “Just a minute, Jaime,” she told Detective Carbajal. “Let me start the engine. As hot as it is, I can’t leave Edith Mossman sitting there with no air-conditioning.”
“Okay, boss,” Jaime said when she returned to the phone. “Here’s the deal. We’ve turned Mr. Mossman over to Deputy Howell. She’ll keep an eye on him. He wasn’t thrilled about having a bodyguard hanging around, but when we told him his life had been threatened, he warmed up to the idea. Just exactly how serious is this threat?”
Joanna glanced at Edith Mossman sitting quietly in the front seat of the idling Civvie.
She probably wasn’t particularly dangerous at that point.
“Let’s just say I consider it serious,” she said. “And credible. Tell Debbie not to let him out of her sight.”
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“Good enough.”
“Did you learn anything useful?” Joanna asked.
“Other than Eddie Mossman’s a total creep? He came up from Mexico because his daughter’s about to become engaged to some guy from up near Kingman.”
“But I thought Kelly Mossman was already married,” Joanna objected.
“Kelly?” Jaime said. “I don’t know anything about Kelly. I’m sure Mossman said his daughter’s name was Cecilia.”
Joanna’s stomach tightened. Knowing that Eddie Mossman had yet another at-risk daughter made what little roast beef Joanna had managed to swallow threaten to stage a rebellion.
“Did you find out how he learned about Carol’s death?” she asked.
“Sure did. He said that another daughter, Stella, called to let him know.”
“Called how?”
“On his cell phone,” Jaime answered.
“Did you get the number?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Tell Frank I want incoming and outgoing call records for that phone.”
“But the phone is from Mexico.”
“That’s all right. All that means is that Frank Montoya will have to work a little harder than he usually does to retrieve the information. He may have to pay a little mordida to get it. What are you doing next?”
“Heading into the office to get organized and to see what Frank may have for us.”
“Good enough. Tell him I’m taking Mrs. Mossman back to 272
Sierra Vista. We’ll have to have our morning briefing when I get back.”
Joanna stowed her phone and clambered into the driver’s seat, grateful to be out of the heat and the rising humidity.
“Anything important?” Edith asked.
“No,” Joanna said. “Just touching base with some of my people.”
They drove through town in relative silence. It was only when they emerged from the other side of Mule Mountain Tunnel that Joanna resumed her questioning. “You’ve told me about Carol,” she said. “And a little about Andrea, but you’ve barely mentioned Stella.”
“I don’t like her much,” Edith said abruptly. “Of all the girls, she’s the one who’s most like her father. I was surprised that she offered to come get me the other day and bring me to town when your detectives needed to talk to me. She doesn’t usually come across all sweetness and light.”
“Considering her history, I’d be surprised if she did,” Joanna said.
“Yes,” Edith agreed. “That’s why, with Stella-with all the girls, really-I’ve always been willing to let things slide.”
“So what’s her story?” Joanna asked.
“She came along with Carol, but once she got here, she wouldn’t do a thing I told her. She was just as wild as she could be, but she grew out of it. She married herself a nice young man, and she seems to be doing all right now.”
“I met her son,” Joanna said.
Edith shot Joanna a questioning glance.
“He’s nice, too,” Joanna said.
“Yes.” Edith Mossman sighed. “I suppose he is.”
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J. A. Jance
‘And who’s Cecilia?” Joanna asked.
“Cecilia who?” Edith asked.
Right that moment, Joanna wasn’t prepared to tell Edith Mossman that she had yet another granddaughter, a possible half sister of Carol, Stella, Andrea, and Kelly, who was now also in jeopardy.
“Never mind,” Joanna said at last. “I’m probably mistaken.”
After that, Edith Mossman settled back in her seat. Seconds later she was snoring softly. In the relative silence that followed, Joanna thought about Carol Mossman and her three victimized sisters. It was one thing for a ten-year-old child to take over the household responsibilities-the care and feeding-of three younger siblings, but for Carol to be unable to protect any of them, herself included, from their own father … That was, as Edith Mossman had said, unthinkable! No wonder that, as an adult, Carol had turned to animals for comfort and companionship. Compared to what the human race had dished out to her, dogs must have seemed amazingly uncomplicated.