Rattlesnake Crossing : A Joanna Brady Mystery (9780061766183)

by Jance, Judith A.

  “So what’s the deal here?” she demanded.

  “Deal?” Joanna repeated.

  “Yeah. I mean, what’s going on? That guy up there…” She pointed toward a group of men that included Ernie Carpenter. “The tall one, right there. He told me the woman in the next car would tell me what was up. After all, it’s my sister-in-law they found up there. I want to see Katrina. I’m one of her closest relatives. Why the hell won’t somebody let me through?”

  Joanna pulled out her badge and flashed it. “I’m Sheriff Brady,” she said. “And your name is?”

  “Crow Woman,” was the reply.

  Joanna had to bite her tongue to keep from repeating that as well. “Is that a first name or a last name?” she asked.

  “It’s my name,” Crow Woman replied. “Legally. I changed it after I got my divorce. I went to court and it cost me four hundred bucks. Now tell me, Sheriff Brady, what the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Joanna said truthfully. “As you saw, I just arrived myself, but if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  Leaving Crow Woman where she stood, Joanna approached the group of men congregated around the white Bronco that served as Search and Rescue’s command vehicle. Detective Ernie Carpenter broke away from the others as she approached.

  “The lady back there wants to know what’s going on,” Joanna told him. “Did Search and Rescue find a body or not?”

  “Yes, they did,” Ernie replied.

  “Where is it?”

  “About two miles west of here,” Ernie said, pointing. “The boys from S and R tell me that she was on a shelf of cliff on the other side of the river. According to Mike Wilson, they’ve cordoned off the area and left Deputy Sandoval to guard it. Mike says there’s a place where the river widens out enough that we should be able to drive across in the Blazer. If we follow him, Mike’ll take us to the crime scene.”

  “So it is Katrina Berridge, then,” Joanna said with a resigned sigh. She had hoped S and R would find the woman alive. “I guess I’ll go get Crow Woman. The three of us can ride up together.”

  “Who’s Crow Woman?” Ernie asked.

  “Her,” Joanna said, pointing back to the woman who still stood leaning on the Blazer’s fender. “That’s her legal name—Crow Woman. She also happens to be the dead woman’s sister-in-law.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ernie said.

  “Well, of course she is,” Joanna returned impatiently. “She just told me so herself. She wants to know what’s going on and she wants to view the body. I know that’s not standard procedure, but why not? We could just as well let her do it now as later. Since Doc Winfield is out of town, we’ll be working with Fran Daly on this case as well as the one in Pomerene. The body will be up in Tucson, so it’ll take a lot less time if we get the whole identification thing done now, rather than waiting until later.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea—”

  Impatiently, Joanna rushed on without giving Ernie a chance to finish what he was saying. “All right, then, I suppose you’re right. We shouldn’t drag her along to the crime scene, but when it’s time to transport the body, maybe we could stop here long enough to get the job done. Once the body’s in Tucson, what’ll take a few minutes tonight will take all day tomorrow. Either you or Detective Carbajal will have to come all the way out here, pick up Crow Woman or Katrina’s husband, take them up to Tucson for the ID, and then bring them back again. I say let’s do it now and get it over with, once and—”

  “It’s not her,” Ernie Carpenter interrupted.

  Joanna stopped. “Not her? But I thought…”

  Knitting his bushy eyebrows together, Ernie shifted his considerable weight back and forth. “Katrina Berridge disappeared from Rattlesnake Crossing sometime yesterday afternoon,” he said. “According to Mike Wilson, the body they found today has been dead much longer than that. Several weeks, anyway.”

  “You’re saying somebody else is dead?” Joanna asked. “Some other victim is here, one that we didn’t even know about?”

  Ernie nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Who is it, then?”

  “No way to tell. No ID was found, and very little clothing, either. She was buried under a pile of rocks, which pretty well rules out natural causes. One of the dogs found her.”

  “Any idea what she died of?”

  Ernie shook his head. “Not yet anyway, not without an autopsy.”

  Joanna tried to come to grips with the dynamics of this new situation. Someone else was dead, someone no one had even bothered to report as missing. In the meantime, the initial object of the Search and Rescue mission still hadn’t been located.

  “What about the Berridge woman, then?” she asked.

  “That’s what I was discussing with Mike Wilson and the S and R guys just as you showed up. Finding this other body and dealing with it has pretty much put a wrench in the works. Also, the crime scene is right in the middle of the area they were searching. Between preserving evidence and the sun going down, I’d say they’re pretty much out of business for tonight. Mike says they can be back here first thing in the morning and take another crack at it then.”

  Nodding, Joanna looked back up the road to where Crow Woman still stood waiting for an answer. “I suppose I’d better go tell her,” she said. “The news was awful enough to begin with, and this is that much worse. I’ll also have Dispatch contact Fran Daly.”

  “You mentioned her before,” Ernie said. “Who is she?”

  “Dr. Fran Daly,” Joanna replied. “She’s Doc Winfield’s pinch-hitting investigator from the Pima County ME’s office. She and Jaime have spent the afternoon locked up in a collapsed crawl space back in Pomerene on another homicide. I don’t believe Dr. Daly was happy to be working with us on that first case. When she finds out about this one, I doubt she’ll be thrilled.”

  “So what?” Ernie said. “In this business, them’s the breaks.”

  Walking back toward the Blazer, Joanna tried to think of what to say to Crow Woman. For someone who had prepared herself for the worst, would she regard this reprieve as a blessing or a curse?

  “Well?” Crow Woman demanded impatiently.

  “There’s no point in your seeing her,” Joanna said. “The dead woman isn’t your sister-in-law.”

  “Not Katrina?” Crow Woman echoed faintly. “But I thought…I understood…”

  “So did we all,” Joanna replied grimly. “But my investigators say that the body that was found has been out in the desert far longer than your sister-in-law has been missing.”

  “So you’re saying Trina may still be okay?”

  “She may be. Let’s hope, anyway. It isn’t like she’s been out in the boonies in the dead of winter. Then we’d have to worry about hypothermia. It’s not cold at all, and currently there is water available.”

  “But you said they found a body.” Crow Woman sounded anxious. “Who’s dead, then?”

  “We don’t have any way of knowing,” Joanna answered. “Not yet. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

  “Was this person murdered? Is it a man or a woman?”

  “Please,” Joanna said. “We’re just starting our investigation. What I’m telling you is that the victim is not your sister-in-law. Beyond that, I can’t tell you anything more.”

  Crow Woman wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. “Look,” she said, “I have a business to run here. If people are being killed on or near my property, I need to know about it. I have guests to protect. And if one person has been murdered, then that’s probably what’s happened to Trina as well.”

  Joanna hesitated, puzzling over exactly how to address Crow Woman. Is Crow her first name and Woman her last? Joanna wondered.

  “Ms. Crow Woman,” Sheriff Brady said finally, assuming her most official-sounding tone, “please don’t leap to any unfounded conclusions. Until Detective Carpenter and I actually visit the crime scene, there’s no wa
y for us to know whether or not it’s on your property. I can assure you that, as the investigation progresses, you will be kept informed. And as for your sister-in-law, the Search and Rescue team will be going back out first thing in the morning to look for her.”

  “In the morning,” Crow Woman echoed. “What’s the matter with them going back out right now? It won’t be dark for a while yet.”

  “We’re doing the best we can,” Joanna replied gently. “For your sister-in-law and for the dead woman as well. Why don’t you just go on back home and let my people and me do our jobs?”

  She turned away from Crow Woman, reached into the Blazer, and pulled the radio microphone off the hook. She radioed through to Tica Romero at Dispatch.

  “Tica,” she said, “I need you to reach Chief Deputy Voland or Detective Carbajal back in Pomerene. Tell them that as soon as they finish with the Clyde Philips crime scene, they’ll need to bring Dr. Daly up here to Rattlesnake Crossing. Tell Detective Carbajal there’s another homicide on tap that we’ll need Fran Daly to investigate.”

  “Does that clear the missing-person case, then?” Tica asked.

  Joanna looked back at the black-clad figure of Crow Woman striding away toward the cluster of buildings that made up the core of Rattlesnake Crossing. She wanted to be sure Katrina Berridge’s sister-in-law was well beyond hearing distance before she spoke again.

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “I almost wish it did, but it doesn’t. Trina Berridge is still missing. It’s somebody else who’s dead.”

  Tica Romero whistled. “What’s happening around here?” she demanded. “Two murders in one day? Isn’t that some kind of record?”

  “It’s a record, all right,” Joanna answered. It sure as hell is!

  EIGHT

  WHILE ERNIE Carpenter set off to find Mike Wilson, Joanna went to the rear of her Blazer and hauled out the small suitcase she kept there, packed with what she called her “just-in-case clothes”—a Cochise County Sheriff’s Department T-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. Sitting inside the vehicle, she managed to change from her skirt, blazer, and heels into something more appropriate for a crime-scene investigation. Still, looking at the ground-in grime already on the skirt and blazer, she realized the change of wardrobe had come far too late. The damage from climbing in and out of Clyde Philips’ crawl space had already been done—a bit like locking the barn door long after the horse was gone.

  Joanna was dressed and out of the Blazer when Detective Carpenter returned with Mike Wilson in tow. “Did you get hold of Jaime?” Ernie asked.

  She nodded. “According to Dispatch, he’s on his way and bringing Dr. Daly with him. We could just as well wait here until they show up. That way we’ll have only one caravan going in and out rather than two or three.”

  “It’s getting late,” Ernie remarked, glancing at the sun falling low in the west.

  “You have lights in the van, don’t you?”

  Ernie nodded. “That’s all right, then,” Joanna said. “We’ll wait.”

  And they did. Considering the distance involved, Detective Jaime Carbajal and Dr. Fran Daly arrived at the rendezvous on Rattlesnake Crossing within twenty minutes—far less time than it should have taken. As Dr. Daly and Jaime stepped out of their respective vehicles, Joanna handled the introductions. “So where’s the new body?” Fran Daly asked.

  “Across the river and up on those cliffs,” Mike Wilson told her. He turned around and gave her van a critical onceover. “Is that thing four-wheel drive?”

  “No,” Fran answered. “Why?”

  “Because it’s pretty rough terrain between here and there,” he said. “And we have to cross the river besides. If I were you, I’d leave the van here and ride with someone else, someone who has all-wheel drive.”

  That wasn’t a suggestion Fran Daly was prepared to accept without an argument. “What about my equipment?” she demanded.

  “Depending on how much you have, we could probably load it into one of our vehicles,” Ernie offered.

  “All right, then,” Fran agreed. “I suppose that will have to do.”

  While she supervised the transfer of necessary equipment, Joanna eased up to Detective Carbajal. “How did it go?” she asked.

  Jaime shrugged. “She’s into bugs.”

  “Bugs?”

  “That’s right. Especially flies and maggots. She just took a course in forensic entomology. She thinks she’ll be able to use the stage of development of maggots found on the body to help estimate time of death.”

  “I see,” Joanna said, although she wasn’t eager for more details. “So when did Clyde Philips die?”

  “Beats me,” Jaime replied. “If she’s figured it out, you don’t think she’d bother to tell me, do you? After all, I’m just a lowly detective, and I’m not from Pima County, either. It turns out our guys aren’t even good enough to come pick up the body. I offered, but she insisted on calling for a Pima County van to collect it.”

  “What a surprise,” Joanna said. “That way they’ll be able to charge us time and mileage for the driver, too. It’ll probably cost a fortune.”

  Moments later, Dr. Daly asked, “We’re finally loaded, so who do I ride with?”

  Joanna glanced at Jaime Carbajal’s face. He’d already spent several long hours with Dr. Daly that afternoon, and it showed. She decided to give the man a break. “Detectives Carpenter and Carbajal can ride together in their van,” she said. “You come with me in the Blazer.”

  “Let’s get going, then,” Dr. Daly said. “What are we waiting for? The sun’s almost down.”

  “We have lights along,” Joanna told her.

  Fran Daly grunted in reply, climbed into Joanna’s Blazer, and slammed the door.

  The three vehicles sorted themselves into a line with Mike Wilson leading the caravan, Joanna behind him, and Ernie and Jaime bringing up the rear. Wilson led them back down the road that wound away from the main buildings at Rattlesnake Crossing. Instead of turning onto Pomerene Road, though, he took them across that and onto an even narrower dirt track that meandered first through a fenced grassy pasture and then into mesquite-tangled river bottom.

  Approaching the San Pedro, Joanna grew apprehensive. In the Arizona desert, crossing a monsoon-swollen stream or river can be dangerous, even in a four-wheel-drive vehicle. The last time she remembered seeing the river had been hours earlier, when she had crossed the bridge outside Benson. There, within the confines of fairly narrow banks, the water had been a roaring flood. Here, though, hours later, and in a spot where the banks were half a mile or so wide, the flow had spread out, calmed, and slowed.

  As liquefied sand filtered out of moving water, it settled to the bottom, covering the river’s floor with a firm, hard-packed layer that made for relatively easy driving. The Blazer was almost across and Joanna was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Mike Wilson’s lead vehicle dropped into an invisible but still deep channel. It took all of Joanna’s considerable driving skill to fight the Blazer through the swiftly flowing current and to bring it up and out on the other side.

  It was only then, after they had emerged from the river and started negotiating the steep foothills on the other side, that Fran Daly spoke for the first time. “Mind if I smoke?”

  With the other woman’s nerves showing, Joanna could have rubbed it in. After all, the county’s required NO SMOKING sign was posted on the glove box. But right then, with two people dead and Doc Winfield out of town, Joanna needed Fran Daly’s help. Instead of hiding behind the sign, Joanna opted for reasonableness.

  “Not if you roll down the window,” she said.

  Moments later, after exhaling a cloud of smoke, Fran leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She looked tired.

  “What’s this new deal now?” she asked. “Who is it this time? Do we have a name?”

  Joanna shook her head. “Not so far. Our S and R guys have been out here most of the afternoon looking for a woman who wandered away from home yesterday. Her name’s K
atrina Berridge and she lives back there on that ranch, the one where we all met. According to her sister-in-law, Katrina left home sometime after noon yesterday, and she hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Once the twenty-four-hour missing-persons deadline passed, my guys started conducting an official search. It was one of the Search and Rescue dogs that turned up this other body.”

  “So you’re saying the body we’re going to investigate isn’t hers?” Fran Daly asked. “It isn’t the missing woman?”

  “Right.”

  “How do we know that for sure?”

  Joanna bristled at what sounded like the snide suggestion that her officers were most likely incompetent—as though they weren’t smart enough or well trained enough to differentiate between an old corpse and a new one. It took a real effort on her part to keep from snapping.

  “We know that because Mike Wilson said so,” she replied evenly.

  “I see.” Fran Daly shrugged. “Maybe he’s right,” she added, “but your people aren’t exactly batting a thousand, you know.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “When whoever it was called me up in Tucson…”

  “Dick Voland,” Joanna reminded her once more. “He’s my chief deputy.”

  “Right. Mr. Voland told me that the guy in Pomerene, Clyde Philips, was a homicide victim. Where he got that idea, I don’t know.”

  He got it from me, Joanna thought. She said, “You’re saying he wasn’t murdered?”

  Fran blew another cloud of smoke. “I doubt it,” she said. “I think he got himself all liquored up, put the bag over his head, cinched it shut with a belt, and then waited for the combination of booze and lack of oxygen to do the trick.”