“I asked Butch if he’d go with me to the Father and Daughter Banquet next week. You know the one. For Scouts. You don’t mind, do you?”
In Bisbee the Girl Scouts’ annual Father and Daughter Banquet was a traditional affair. After the death of Joanna’s father, she and her mother had gone to war over the next scheduled banquet. Eleanor had insisted that Joanna attend alone, and had gone so far as to drive her to the high school and drop her off. Instead of going into the cafeteria, Joanna had bugged out on the festivities, walked for hours in the cold November wind and rain, and had ended up with a case of pneumonia for her pains. Jenny, it seemed, had taken charge of a similar situation in her own fashion.
“No,” Joanna replied. “I don’t mind at all. Of course not. Why would you think I would?”
“You know,” Jenny said. “Because of Daddy. I was afraid it was too soon. That you’d think I was forgetting him. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Joanna reached over and patted Jenny’s leg. “My feelings aren’t hurt,” she said. “I’m thrilled. You must like Butch almost as much as I do. But that doesn’t mean we’re forgetting Daddy. Or being unfair to him. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jenny said. And then, after a pause, “Where are we going?”
“Well, since you’re out of school an hour and a half earlier than anyone else will be and earlier than Butch is expecting you, I thought we’d go uptown and see what Marianne is doing. And Ruth, too, if she isn’t spending the afternoon at Jeff’s garage.”
“Don’t you have to go back to work now?”
“No,” Joanna replied. “It turns out I’m taking the day off, too.”
With temperatures in the fifties, the weather was cool and crisp. The sky overhead was a clear cobalt-blue. As Joanna drove up through Old Bisbee, she noticed that the red-and-gray hills, dotted with scrub oak, stood out in stark relief against the distant sky. The contrasts between earth and sky were so sharp that they reminded Joanna of the three-dimensional pictures she remembered from her father’s treasured old View Master.
When they pulled up to the parsonage, Joanna was relieved to see Marianne Maculyea’s old VW Bug parked out front. It was bad manners to show up unannounced like that, but most of what Joanna wanted to discuss with her friend wasn’t telephone-conversation material. In the past few days, telephones had intruded in her life far too much. She craved the comfort of human companionship, of looking someone in the eye and pouring out her heart.
“Run up and knock on the door,” Joanna told Jenny. “Ask Marianne if it’s all right for us to come in, or would it be better if we came back later?” Jenny clambered out of the Blazer, slamming the door behind her. “And if you can avoid it,” Joanna added, “don’t tell her what you’re doing out of school so early. I want to tell her myself.”
“She probably already knows about it, Mom. Doesn’t Marianne read the paper?”
Damn Marliss Shackleford anyway!
Jenny bounded up the steps and rang the doorbell. Marianne opened the door, and the two of them spoke briefly before Jenny turned and motioned for Joanna to follow. Then the child disappeared into the house while Marianne waited on the porch.
“Sorry I missed your speech at Kiwanis this morning,” Marianne said. “I was feeling so rotten that I told Jeff to go on without me.”
“How are you doing now?”
“A little better,” Marianne said.
“But not much, from the looks of you,” Joanna observed. “Jeff tells me you haven’t seen a doctor yet, either.”
“Come on in,” Marianne said. “Is that all you came by for—to chew me out? Tommy’s been out of town on vacation for the last two weeks. He went home to visit his family back in Taiwan. He’s due back tomorrow. I have an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon.”
Tommy was actually Dr. Thomas Lee, a Taiwanese immigrant doctor who had come to Bisbee’s Copper Queen Hospital as a way of paying off his medical-school loans. Once the loan obligation was repaid, he could easily have gone elsewhere. Instead, he had decided to make Bisbee his permanent home.
After Jeff and Marianne brought their adopted twins home from mainland China, Dr. Lee had become Esther’s primary physician. In the process of caring for the seriously ill child, he had become a close friend—an uncle almost—to the rest of the family. In order to help Ruth stay connected to her roots, he was teaching the family to speak two separate Chinese dialects. He was also helping turn Jeff Daniels into a passable expert in home-cooked Chinese cuisine.
“Well,” Joanna said, “that’s a relief. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on you seeing him long before this.”
“I didn’t tell him,” Marianne said, smiling wanly. “But I thought you’d be glad to hear that I was taking some of your advice, and not just about seeing the doctor, either. I was supposed to do housework today, but I’ve spent most of the morning working on the Thanksgiving sermon.”
The parsonage’s once pristine living room was a shambles. Toys, books, and papers were scattered everywhere. The couch was almost invisible beneath a mound of unfolded laundry. On the floor, smack in the middle of the debris field, lay Ruth and Jenny. Frowning in concentration, the two girls were building a structure out of a set of pre-school-sized Legos. Joanna and Marianne picked their way through the mess as far as the couch. There they took seats on opposite ends of the couch and heaped the clothing into an even higher mound between them. Once seated and without a word of discussion, they both began folding clothes.
“If you’re working on a Thanksgiving sermon,” Joanna said, “that must mean you plan to stick around long enough to deliver it. What’s the title?”
“‘Stop Digging’.”
“‘Stop Digging’,” Joanna repeated. “What does that mean?”
“You should know,” Marianne said. “You’re the one who told me to talk about the black hole. To stop digging is the first rule for getting out of holes.”
“You really are taking my advice.”
Marianne smiled. “I told you,” she said. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. “What’s Jenny doing out of school so early? She’s not sick, is she?”
“She’s been suspended,” Joanna replied matter-of-factly. “For fighting. Have you read today’s newspaper?”
“The Bee?” Marianne asked. “No. I just didn’t feel like it. Why? What’s in it?”
“Do you happen to have a copy?”
“It’s probably still in the box down by the street. I’ll go get it.”
“No,” Joanna said. “Let Jenny.”
Minutes later, Joanna unfolded the paper, opened it to the page containing Marliss Shackleford’s “Bisbee Buzzings” column, and began to read aloud:
A reliable but unnamed source tells us that Cochise County Sheriff Joanna Brady, a widow, will soon tie the knot with Bisbee newcomer Frederick W. Dixon. Dixon, a former tavern owner, is currently unemployed.
“That witch!” Joanna exclaimed, carefully choosing one word over another because of the listening children playing on the floor. “How dare she say he’s unemployed. Butch spends at least four hours every morning working on his book, and he looks after Jenny every afternoon after school. Not only that, he’s spent the better part of the last three days taking care of Junior.”
“Who’s Junior?” Marianne asked. “You didn’t adopt another dog or horse, did you?”
Briefly Joanna brought Marianne up-to-date on the Junior dilemma.
“And who’s the unnamed source?” Marianne asked, looking at the newspaper column again when Joanna had finished telling the Junior story. “Your mother, I presume?”
Marianne and Joanna’s friendship—a relationship that dated all the way back to junior high—held very few surprises for either of them.
“You guessed it,” Joanna said. “And that’s why Jenny got in a fight at school today. Some of the boys were teasing her about my getting married. She didn’t think it was true because I hadn’t gotten around to telling her.”
Ma
rianne smiled a genuine smile then. “Naturally she beat them up. Given that kind of provocation, I probably would have, too. So it is true then? You and Butch really are getting married?”
“He asked me yesterday,” Joanna replied, “and I said yes.”
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. That’s one of the two things I came by to discuss with you. If you’re going to quit the ministry, you can’t do it until at least after the wedding.”
“Which is when?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t had a chance to talk about that yet. I’ve been too busy.”
“And the other thing we need to discuss?” Marianne asked.
“Marliss Shackleford. How do I keep from killing her the next time I see her?”
Marianne glanced toward the children. Jenny and Ruth both seemed totally engrossed in their building project, but Marianne knew better than to trust to appearances. “Maybe we’d better go into the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.”
An hour later, feeling as though an interior pressure valve had been released, Joanna packed up Jenny and headed home. “We’d better stop by Butch’s house and let him know you won’t be there after school today.”
But Butch Dixon wasn’t home. Parked in the Outback’s spot in his carport was a decrepit bronze Honda.
“Hey, look,” Jenny crowed in delight. “The Gs are here. Grandpa’s still in the car.”
The Gs were Jenny’s paternal grandparents, Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady. For two cents, once Joanna spotted the car, she would have kept right on driving. The possibility of her remarrying was something she had long avoided discussing with her former in-laws. Unfortunately, by the time Joanna saw the Honda, Jim Bob had seen the Blazer as well. He was already climbing out of his car.
“What’s the matter?” Jenny asked, glancing at her mother’s face. “Aren’t you glad to see Grandpa Jim Bob?”
“I’m glad all right,” Joanna said, but her voice didn’t sound the least bit convincing.
As soon as the Blazer stopped, Jenny shot out of the passenger seat. Jim Bob caught her, scooped her into his arms, and swung her high in the air.
“There’s my girl,” he said. “How’s tricks?”
“I got suspended from school,” Jenny replied at once. “For three whole days. I can’t go back clear until Wednesday.”
“Suspended, eh?” Jim Bob said. “Maybe you’d better come home with me tonight. That way you can tell Grandma and me all about it.”
“Can I go, Mom?” Jenny begged. “Can I, please?”
“May I,” Joanna corrected automatically. “And yes, I suppose you may.”
“And should I tell them about you-know-what?”
While Joanna sent her daughter a withering look, Jim Bob looked questioningly from Jenny to her mother. “Tell us what?” he asked.
“Butch and Mom are going to get married,” Jenny blurted. “Marliss Shackleford said so in the paper.”
Jim Bob Brady waved one hand as if swatting at a pesky fly. “Oh, that,” he said. “All I can say is, it’s high time.”
And that was all there was to it. Joanna had gone to great lengths to avoid telling Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady that there was a new man in her life, someone who wasn’t their son. And yet, here was Jim Bob accepting the news at face value and giving every indication that not only did he approve but also that he couldn’t see why it had taken Joanna so long to make up her mind. He seemed to accept her decision with the same kind of aplomb Jenny had.
Joanna swallowed hard. “You and Eva Lou don’t mind then?”
Jim Bob put Jenny down and then gathered Joanna into his arms. “Of course we don’t mind, honey bun. Why would we? When Andy was alive, you were the very best wife a man could ask for, but he’s gone now. You have the whole rest of your life ahead of you, Joanna. You’re young and bright and you deserve some happiness. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”
Joanna squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling out. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Jim Bob pushed away and held her at arm’s length. “You’re welcome,” he grinned. “And congratulations.” Then he turned to Jenny. “Come on now, you little hellion. Let’s get going. Grandma was putting a batch of corn bread in the oven as I was leaving the house. On the way home you can tell me all about who you were fighting with and how come.”
Joanna felt a bit left out. “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that Eva Lou’s making some of her world-famous corn bread and I’m not invited?”
“No, ma’am,” Jim Bob said. “Butch called a little while ago and asked if I could come pick Jenny up right after school. He said the two of you had a date tonight—that he was taking you out to dinner.”
“He is, is he? Funny he never mentioned it to me,” Joanna returned. “Which reminds me, where is he?”
“Said he had a bunch of errands to run. That he wouldn’t be able to be here right when school let out. That’s why he wanted me to be Johnny-on-the-spot to meet Jenny.”
Moments later, Jim Bob loaded Jenny into his Honda Civic, and the two of them drove away. Unexpectedly relieved of her parental responsibilities for the evening, Joanna decided to stop by the department on her way back home. After all, it wouldn’t hurt for her to check out what had happened during her absence and try to get a head start on the next day’s business.
Pulling into her reserved parking place, Joanna noticed Dick Voland’s Bronco parked in its usual place. During her long talk with Marianne Maculyea, Joanna had neglected to mention her conflict with Dick Voland, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was ashamed and worried that she herself had somehow, unwittingly, brought on the whole mess. Now, though, seeing his parked car, she knew she would have to face the music. She hadn’t brought the situation up in the privacy of Marianne’s living room. Now, though, she would have to do so in public.
She paused briefly at her private entrance and thought about letting herself into the office that way. Then she changed her mind. People might think she was so upset by her chief deputy’s sudden defection that she was sneaking in and out of her office in hopes of avoiding seeing anyone. No. The only way to handle this was to go in by way of the lobby entrance and simply brazen it out.
Dick had tendered his letter of resignation, and she had accepted. Period. That was all there was to it. And since his letter stated no specific reason for his departure, there was no reason for discussion on Joanna’s part, either.
On her way through the lobby, Joanna heard several conversations stop abruptly as she passed by. She also noted several sidelong questioning glances. Stiffening her spine, she smiled, greeted people by name, and marched right on past.
Let ’em talk, she told herself firmly. All I’ve got to do is show them it’s business as usual. Everything will be fine.
But everything wasn’t fine. In the reception area outside Joanna’s office, a red-nosed and tearful Kristin Marsten barely acknowledged Joanna’s greeting. “Your messages are on your desk,” the overwrought secretary told her boss.
A glance into Dick’s office showed that the place had been stripped bare of every personal item. Relieved, Joanna turned back to Kristin. “Did Mr. Voland drop off the keys to his Bronco?”
“Yes, he left them,” Kristin snapped back. “Those are on your desk, too. Why don’t you go look for once instead of asking me!”
That outburst brought Joanna to a full stop in front of Kristin’s desk. Never one to raise her voice when she was angry, she didn’t do so now.
“Let’s get something straight, Kristin,” she said in a voice just barely above a whisper. “Chief Deputy Voland left of his own volition. I did not ask him to leave, but I didn’t ask him to stay, either. There are certain basic requirements for working around here, and mutual respect is one of them. If you’re not happy with my personnel changes, then you have three choices. One: You can learn to live with them. Two: You can quit. Three: You can ask for a transfer
to some other duty station inside the department.
“It’s your choice, Kristin,” Joanna continued, “but those are the options. Let me warn you, however. If the choice you make is to continue working as my secretary, you’d better be prepared to give me the respect I deserve. Understood?”
Ashen-faced, Kristin nodded bleakly and said nothing.
“All right then,” Joanna finished. “I’m going into my office to return some calls. Is Frank Montoya still around?”
“He’s in his office.”
“Good. Ask him to come see me when he has a minute.”
With that, Joanna stalked off. She knew she had lashed out at Kristin, probably harder than the young woman deserved. After all, Kristin had worked with Dick Voland for years, and she obviously liked him. Still, Joanna had to make the point so word would get around. If there were any other die-hard Dick Voland loyalists in the office—and he had worked for the Cochise County Sheriffs Department long enough that there were bound to be some—then those people needed to know exactly how the wind was blowing. Joanna Brady was in charge and she wasn’t going to be stepped on. That was the way it was, by God, and she had to let people know!
Dick Voland’s keys sat on top of the stack of messages in the middle of her desk. Putting the keys to one side, Joanna sorted through the messages. On her way home from the Kiwanis meeting, when Joanna had decided that she was going home for the day, she had shut off her pager and shifted her cell-phone calls to the office. As a consequence, all of that day’s calls had been routed through the office and had been transcribed by Kristin.
Sorting through them was a bit like dealing out a hand of solitaire. There were sixteen in all. Three of them were from Butch. The first one from him contained an invitation to dinner. The second set the time and neglected to tell her where, while the third worried about whether or not she had received either of the first two. Seven were congratulatory calls from people around town who had read about her expected engagement and who were calling to wish Joanna well. Two of the remaining six were from Marliss and two were from Eleanor, with one each from George Winfield and Dr. Fran Daly.
Outlaw Mountain : A Joanna Brady Mystery (9780061748806) Page 22
