I tried to conceal my disappointment. A cartoon-watching babysitter wasn't going to be much help. I started to ask Jennifer when her parents would be home and to tell her that I'd call back later, when I thought better of it. Maybe Jennifer herself could provide some of the information I needed.
"Jennifer," I said casually, "do you remember Joey's snake?"
"Ringo? Sure, I remember him. Sometimes Joey let me feed him. I did it while he was gone."
Of course. I couldn't believe my luck. "You mean you took care of Ringo while Joey was away at Ironwood Ranch?"
"My brother showed me how to do it," she answered proudly. "And he paid me, too. Twenty bucks. I was always real careful, though. Rattlesnakes are poisonous, you know. I always thought Ringo was kind of creepy. I like kittens."
"When's the last time you saw Ringo?" I asked.
"The night Joey came to say good-bye."
"He what?"
"When he came to say good-bye and to get his books. It was in the middle of the night and he woke me up. He had Ringo in a bag. He said he was leaving, that I wouldn't ever see him again. Did he know he was going to die, Mr. Beaumont? Do people know they're going to die before it happens?"
Her distress radiated through the phone lines. My questions had reopened a painful wound.
"Sometimes they do," I answered.
There was a pause. Someone was speaking in the background, on the other end of the line. I heard Jennifer say, "No, it's for me. It's a friend of mine," followed by another pause.
"Jennifer?" I asked, "Are you there?"
"Yes," she answered, her voice small, tremulous.
"Tell me again what happened."
"I was asleep. Joey came into my room and woke me up. He had Ringo with him in a pillowcase that was tied shut. He told me that he came back for Ringo and his books. He said he was going away, so far away that I'd never see him again."
"What did you do?"
"I didn't want him to leave, and I started to cry. He said to keep quiet or I'd wake Mother and Daddy. So I Kept quiet."
"And he left?"
"Yes. He got his books and left."
"What books?"
"You know. Like a diary. I always kept them for him." She laughed. "He always said the best hiding place is in plain sight, and that's where I kept them for him. On my bookshelf."
"And then what happened?"
"Like I said, he took the books and the snake and left. The next morning, I tried to tell Daddy about it, but he said it was all a bad dream or I made it up. That Joey would be back as soon as he got out of the hospital and that I shouldn't worry about it."
"Did you tell him about Ringo?"
"No," she answered. "I didn't have a chance. He was in a hurry."
Again someone was speaking in the background on the other end of the line. "The baby-sitter wants to use the phone," Jennifer said. "I have to go."
"Thank you," I told her. "You've been a big help."
"Is Ringo dead too?" she asked suddenly. "Is he dead just like Joey?"
"I don't know," I replied honestly. "He may be all right, but then again, I'm not sure."
"I didn't like Ringo," Jennifer said softly, "but I don't want him to be dead. If he came back home, I'd take care of him, all by myself. No one would have to help me."
Jennifer Rothman was a little girl whose unappreciated goodness knew no bounds. My heart ached for her.
"Do you want me to have Mother or Daddy call you when they get back?" she asked, her voice brightening once more. "They'll be home pretty soon."
"No," I answered. "That won't be necessary, Jennifer. You've really been a big help."
CHAPTER 14
I put down the phone and stood looking at it for a long moment. Out in the laundry room, the washing machine rocked crazily into an uneven spin cycle, but I barely heard it. It was the morning after my forty-fourth birthday, and I was damn lucky to be alive.
Joey Rothman had indeed tried to kill me. His mother's worst suspicions were now confirmed by the innocent revelations of his adoring half-sister. But why? Had he been acting on his own authority or on somebody else's orders? Was it because he had truly believed I was there working undercover, or was it due to some other reason entirely? It was impossible to tell.
In twenty years of police work, I had no doubt racked up more than my share of enemies, people who wouldn't have blinked twice at the idea of Detective J.P. Beaumont being rubbed out of existence. Ostensibly, most of those people should have been in Washington State, preferably behind bars, but the justice system doesn't necessarily work that way. Creeps get out of jail all the time. Sooner or later, they're back on the street, most likely still harboring grudges against the people who locked them up in the first place. Was it some pissed-off penal system graduate who had hired Joey Rothman to do his dirty work? If so, how had he known where to find me? Although I suppose that's a naive question. My checking into Ironwood Ranch had to be one of the worst-kept secrets of all time.
The wobbling washing machine rocked to a stop. Grabbing the clean clothes out of the tub, I took a whiff of them before placing them in the dryer. The dose of bleach had done its magic-the moldy odor was gone. Restarting the washer, I poured in another cupful of bleach before adding the lightly colored clothing. So what if some of the colored things faded? I much prefer faded to smelly.
When I came out of the laundry room, I could hear a voice speaking somewhere in the house. At first I thought Ames had returned, bringing someone with him. Then I recognized Detective Reyes-Gonzales' disembodied voice saying, "I guess you must have gone out, so I'll try back later."
Evidently I hadn't heard the ringing telephone over the laundry room's noisy equipment and running water. I dove for the phone and snatched it up. "I'm here," I said quickly. "Don't hang up." I caught her just in time.
"Detective Beaumont? Is that you?"
"Yes. The washer and dryer were both going full blast. I didn't hear the phone ring."
"I got a message from the dispatcher that you wanted to talk to me."
"That's right. Something's come up. We need to talk. When can I see you?"
"Not right now," she said. "I'm just now parking at the Department of Public Safety crime lab. The guy I need to see will be here for only a few more minutes. What about later, after I finish up with him?"
"Sure. Tell me where you'll be," I said. "I'll meet you."
"You have wheels?"
"At the moment," I replied.
I could almost hear her smiling. "Does that mean you convinced Alamo to rent you another car?"
She was having a little fun at my expense, but I didn't blame her, and I was operating under no delusions. Alamo would never have given me the keys to a second vehicle if Detective Reyes-Gonzales hadn't gone to bat for me over the telephone.
"As a matter of fact they did," I said dryly. "Thanks for the help on that score."
"No problem. I was happy to do it. Do you know your way around Phoenix?"
"A little," I replied. "Enough to get back and forth from the airport."
She laughed. "The DPS headquarters is at 19th Avenue and Encanto. Know where that is?"
"No, but I'm sure I can find it. Alamo gave me a map."
"Good. How about meeting me at La Pinata? It's a Mexican restaurant at 19th and Osborn. I'll be there by eleven-thirty or so, if that's all right."
Why wouldn't it be all right? I thought. I sure as hell wasn't doing anything else, although I was wearing a little thin on an almost steady diet of Mexican food. "That'll be fine," I said.
I found the restaurant without any trouble. A Yavapai Country Sheriff's Department car was already parked outside. Going into the darkened, cavelike vestibule, I was temporarily blinded by the gloom. I gave my name to the hostess, who led me into the dining room. Detective Reyes-Gonzales, with two colorful menus on the table in front of her, was seated in the far corner of the room.