Mayor Rogers had asked the county supervisors to allow the sheriff’s department to assume control of the town’s four remaining marshals. The job was more supervisory than anything else-a matter of assigning and coordinating the officers left to do the actual work.
In the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department, Chief Deputy for Administration Frank Montoya was Joanna’s right-hand man, but before signing on with the county, he had served as marshal for the city of Willcox. Montoya’s background and experience made him the logical choice to take on the Tombstone assignment. He had been there-working out of city hall, staying in a motel, and with the city of Tombstone paying his salary-for the better part of two months. But as litigation threatened to drag on and on, both Frank and Joanna were beginning to wonder if he’d ever return to his office at the Cochise County Justice Complex outside Bisbee. Not only that, from what Joanna had heard, Mayor Rogers didn’t seem to appreciate Frank’s performance as marshal any wore than he had Dennis Granger’s.
“What’s the problem now?” Joanna asked.
“I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Rogers returned. “My sister Susan is the problem. She came into my place of business just before noon and started a disturbance. Frank Montoya was sitting right there eating his lunch when it happened. He didn’t raise a finger.”
“What kind of disturbance?” Joanna asked.
“Do you remember the Smothers Brothers?” Rogers asked.
“The Smothers Brothers?” Joanna asked dubiously. “Who are they?”
“That’s right,” Rogers snorted. “You’re probably too young. Years ago, in the sixties, they were a comedy team. Used to have a great show called ‘The Smothers’ Brothers Comedy Hour.’ I loved it. Some of their best routines were all about how their mother liked the other one best. Believe me, when it comes to that, Susan could have given those guys lessons.”
“You’re saying the argument was about your mother, then?” Joanna asked.
“That’s how it started, and things went downhill from there. It ended up with Susan grabbing a tablecloth and pulling a whole table’s worth of glasses, dishes, and silverware onto the floor. Broke two plates, one mug, three water glasses, and four wineglasses. That’s more breakage than we usually have in a month. Make that a year. Those wineglasses especially are damned expensive. And what did your pal Montoya do about it? I’ll tell you what he did-nothing! Not a damned thing!”
“Is your sister still there?”
“No. Montoya did do that much, I guess,” Rogers admitted grudgingly. “He talked her into going outside, but he should have arrested her, by God! For disturbing the peace, if nothing else, for trespassing, or even for assault. With all that glass flying around, it’s a wonder somebody didn’t get hurt. If not one of my customers, then one of my workers. It was right in the middle of the Sunday after church rush, too. The place was packed.”
“And this incident was all about your mother?” Joanna asked.
“About her boyfriend, really. Farley Adams. I’m sure Mother’s mentioned him to Susan the same as she has to me, but now that it looks like things might turn serious, Susan’s all pissed off that I haven’t done something to stop it.”
“I take it your sister disapproves of the boyfriend?” Joanna observed.
“Our mother is something of a free spirit,” Rogers said. “But my sister is an uptight middle-class prude with delusions of grandeur. She can’t stand the idea that our mother still has some feminine juices flowing. I’m sure she’d like to think of Mother as a shriveled old prune. The fact that the old girl’s still capable of sowing wild oats drives Susan wild.”
“So what exactly caused the fuss?” Joanna asked.
“I suggested Susan mind her own business. I also hinted that maybe she should try reading Lady Chatterley’s Lover. That’s when she went ballistic on me and started breaking up my restaurant.”
Joanna felt as though important parts of the story were missing. “Why did that upset your sister so?”
“Have you read Lady Chatterley’s Lover?” Rogers asked pointedly. “The randy caretaker and all that?”
“You’re saying the boyfriend, this Mr. Adams, started out
as your mother’s employee then, as a gardener or something?”
“Right, as her handyman, but he’s graduated to something else, evidently. According to Susan, the two of them drove up to Laughlin, Nevada, a couple of weeks ago and stayed for three whole days. I doubt they had separate rooms. And I doubt they spent the whole time playing slot machines or blackjack, either.”
“All right,” Joanna said. “So your sister disapproved of your mother’s choice of friends, but how did that cause trouble between the two of you?”
“Susan evidently found out about the Laughlin trip just last night. Mother went out to Sierra Vista to have dinner with Susan and her husband and told them all about it. Rubbed their noses in it, was the way Susan put it. She asked me if I had known our mother was drifting in that direction, and why hadn’t I done something to stop it. I told her it was none of my business, any more than it was hers.”
“Where’s your sister now?”
“Not in jail, where she should be. Montoya told her to go home and cool off.”
“And your mother?”
“At home, as far as I know. I haven’t talked to her today so far, but she usually comes by for dinner later on in the afternoon. That’s one of the disadvantages of being in the restaurant business. Some of your relatives give up cooking completely. As far as Mother is concerned, though, it’s the least I can do.”
In the course of the conversation, Clete Rogers sounded as though he had cooled off some. He had needed to vent.
“So things are pretty well under control at the moment, is that correct?” Joanna asked.
“Well, yes. I suppose so.”
“Are you interested in filing any charges?”
“Oh, all right. Probably not. If Mother found out, it would only upset her, wouldn’t it?”
“Most likely.”
“I’ll just let it go, then. But you tell Montoya to give Susan the word. Have him tell her that she’s not to come around here again. That from now on the Grubsteak is totally off limits.”
“It might be best if you told her yourself instead of dragging Deputy Montoya into it,” Joanna inserted smoothly. “Better yet, you might consider having your attorney go to court and obtain a restraining order. That way, if Susan comes anywhere near your home or your place of business, either one, then there’ll be grounds for officers to arrest her. That will go for your town marshals and for my deputies, both. It’ll give everyone a legal basis for removing her.”
“Okay,” Clete Rogers said, sounding mollified. “I’ll think about it. Sounds like good advice, but right now, I’ve got to go. My cashier is waving that she needs something. I’ll let you know about the restraining order later on.”
When he put down the receiver, Joanna sat for some time listening to the dial tone. Nobody had told her how much the job of sheriff had to do with public relations. After half a minute or so, she punched the speed-dial code for the department. When Lisa Howard, the weekend desk clerk answered, Joanna asked to be put through to Dispatch. Tica Romero took the call.
“Afternoon, Sheriff Brady. What can I do for you?”
“What do you hear from Deputy Montoya?”
“Not much. Things must be pretty quiet over in Tombstone this weekend.”