Shoot Don't Shoot

by J. A. Jance

“Mrs. Jessup?” Joanna asked tentatively.

  The woman pulled the hanky away from her face and stood up. “Yes,” she said. “I’m Lorelie Jessup, and this is my son, Rick. Is there any news?”

  Lorelie didn’t at all resemble her tall, red-haired daughter. Anything but beautiful, she was short, squat, and nearsighted. Her thinning, dishwater-blond hair was disheveled, as though she had climbed out of bed and come straight to the hospital without pausing long enough to comb it.

  Joanna remembered Leann saying that her mother was only in her late forties, but with her face blotchy and distorted by weeping, with her faded blue eyes red from crying, she looked much older than that. Wrinkles lined her facial skin, perhaps as much from sun as age. The corners of her mouth turned down in a perpetual grimace, and there was a general air of hopelessness about her. She looked like someone Jim Bob Brady would have said had been “rode hard and put up wet.”

  And most likely that was true. Joanna tried to recall how many years Leann Jessup had said her mother had worked two jobs in order to single-handedly support her two children. Years of unremitting labor had taken their toll.

  “I’m sorry,” Joanna said, “I don’t know any news. I’m not with the hospital. My name’s Joanna. I’m a friend of Leann’s.”

  “Not another one!” Rick Jessup groaned.

  “Another what?” Joanna asked. Instead of answering, Rick Jessup rolled his eyes, stuffed both hands in his pockets, and then stalked off across the room. There wasn’t much physical resemblance between Leann and her brother, either; in terms of temperament, they were worlds apart.

  “Rick, please,” his mother admonished. “Don’t be rude. This is Sheriff Brady from down in Bisbee. She and Leann were on that news program together the other night, the one I taped. You and Sherry haven’t had a chance to see it yet.”

  “I’m sure it’s no great loss,” Rick said.

  What’s the matter with this guy? Joanna wondered, but she turned back to Lorelie. “How is Leann?”

  “They keep telling me it’s too soon to tell. She’s heavily sedated right now. They’ve installed a shunt to drain off fluid to reduce pressure on her brain. She may be all right, but then again, she may…” Lorelie broke off, overcome by emotion and unable to continue.

  “She brought it all on herself,” Rick Jessup groused from across the room. “God is punishing her. If you think about it, her whole life is an abomination.”

  Lorelie Jessup rounded on her son. “God had nothing to do with the attack on Leann. If that’s the way you feel about it, why don’t you just leave? I don’t need you here spouting that kind of garbage, and neither does Leann.”

  “What’s an abomina—?” Jenny began. Joanna squeezed her hand, silencing the child.

  Lorelie crossed the room until she and her son were bare inches apart. For a moment, Joanna worried the war of words would escalate into a physical confrontation.

  “Why would you say such awful things about your own sister?” Lorelie demanded. “How could you? I want you to apologize, both to her and to me.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Rick Jessup returned coldly. “After all, it’s true. Face it. Leann Jessup is nothing but a godless dyke who doesn’t just sin, she wallows in it. This is the Lord’s way of giving her a wake-up call. I’m sick and tired of making excuses for her, of even being related.”

  “Whatever happened to the part of the Bible that says ‘Judge not…’?” Lorelie asked calmly, her voice turning to ice. “If being related to Leann is a problem for you, Rick, don’t worry about it. There’s an easy solution to that—stop being related. But if you decide to write Leann out of your life, remember one thing. If you don’t have a sister, you don’t have a mother, either. Get out of here. By the time I come home from the hospital, I want all of you out of my house.”

  “Just like that? All of us? You’re throwing me out over her?” Rick’s face was tight with fury.

  “Just like that!” Lorelie returned.

  “But what about Junior?” Rick objected. “What about your grandson?”

  “I guess I’ll just have to learn to take the bad with the good,” she said.

  For a moment, Rick seemed bent on staring his mother down. When she didn’t look away, he backed toward the door. “I brought you over,” he said. “If I leave, who’ll drive you home?”

  “I’ll walk if I have to,” Lorelie said determinedly. “The company will be better. Now go!”

  Rick Jessup went, taking much of the tension from the room with him, while Lorelie turned back to Joanna. “I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s nothing like bringing your family feud right out in the open.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Joanna said.

  “What Rick said is partially true, although there’s no call for him to be so mean about it,” Lorelie continued. “Leann is a lesbian, but so what? That doesn’t make her some kind of freak. She’s also good-hearted and caring. And, no matter what, she’s still my daughter.”

  Joanna hadn’t guessed Leann’s secret, but Lorelie’s matter-of-fact treatment made the whole topic seem less shocking, even with Jenny standing right there beside her. And that’s why you’re still Leann’s hero, Joanna thought.

  Glancing at her watch, Joanna knew it was time to take Jenny and head back. “Is there someone you could call to come stay with you here at the hospital?” she asked. “I hate for you to be here alone.”

  “I suppose I could always call Kim,” Lorelie said.

  “Who’s Kim?”

  “Kimberly George. Leann’s friend.” Lorelie paused, then added, “Her former friend, that is. Lover, really. The two of them had been together for five years at least. They only split up a month ago. They got in a big fight over Leann’s new job.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Kim was afraid something might happen to Leann. That she’d get hurt at work…” Lorelie sighed. “Anyway, they broke up, and it’s just like someone getting a divorce. But still, I am going to call her. I know Kim would want to know what’s going on, and she’ll be happy to give me a ride home if I need one.”

  A nurse bustled into the waiting room. “The doctor says you can go in for five minutes, Mrs. Jessup. But only one person at a time, and only immediate family.” She shot a meaningful look in Joanna’s direction. If the nurse was expecting an argument, it didn’t materialize.

  “Right. We were just leaving,” Joanna said to the nurse, then turned to Lorelie. “If you can’t get in touch with Kim, or if you need anything else, please call me. I’m staying at the Hohokam in Peoria. I’ll be there all weekend.”

  “Thank you,” Lorelie Jessup said. “And thank you for coming. I appreciate it far more than you’ll ever know.”

  “What’s an abomination?” Jenny asked, once they were back in the corridor.

  “Something that’s evil or obscene,” Joanna answered.

  “Is your friend evil?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And neither does her mother.”

  “Evidently not,” Joanna agreed.

  “But her brother does.”

  “It certainly sounds that way.”

  Jenny and Joanna walked along in silence for several seconds. “I always used to want a little brother,” Jenny said. “But now that I’ve met that Rick guy, I think I’m glad I don’t have one.”

  Joanna shook her head. “Maybe a brother of yours wouldn’t have turned into someone like Rick Jessup.”

  Back at the hotel, Joanna was relieved to find a voice-mail message from Eva Lou Brady waiting on the phone in their room. “We’re back,” Eva Lou’s cheerful voice announced. “Call us.”

  While Jenny headed for the bathroom to change into her swimming suit, Joanna called the Bradys’ room. “Where were you?” she asked.

  “I saw an announcement in the paper this morning saying that the Salvation Army needed volunteers to come help serve their holiday meal. You and Jenny were gone, and I couldn’t see Jim Bob and
me just sitting around all day with him doing nothing but watching football. We decided to go help out for a little while. Now I’m going to take a little nap and let Jimmy watch one football game before dinner. What are you and Jenny up to?”

  Briefly, Joanna brought Eva Lou up to date on what had happened to them. “I’d better get off the phone. Jenny has her suit on, finally. She’s champing at the bit to get in the pool. I’m going to go down and watch her, but I’m taking along that packet of mail you brought me. I’ll use the time to work on my correspondence.”

  Once Jenny was happily paddling back and forth in the pool, Joanna emptied the contents of a large manila envelope onto a nearby patio table. The item that landed on top of the pile was a second envelope, much smaller than the first. That one, with a Sheriff’s Department return address, was hand-addressed to Joanna. Inside she found a handwritten memo from Frank Montoya detailing the problem with the cook. Nothing to do about that one, she thought as she tossed it aside. As Frank had said, that one was handled.

  An hour later, she had plowed through the whole collection. There wasn’t anything particularly exciting. A whole lot about being sheriff wasn’t any more interesting than tracking a life insurance application or reading the proposed agenda for the next Board of Supervisors meeting, which was dutifully enclosed. It dawned on Joanna that she had signed up to do the nuts-and-bolts part of the job—the administrative part—as well as the more exciting ones. When she finished reading through the mail and jotting off answers to whatever required a reply, she felt better.

  She wasn’t neglecting her duty by leaving home to learn what she needed to know to do the job better. Things at the department were going along just fine without her. She had delegated responsibilities in a way that was getting things done without allowing her absence to undermine her new position.

  At ten to three she dredged a protesting Jenny out of the pool. “We need to be back in the room to answer the phone in case Grandma Lathrop calls. Do you want to shower first or should I?”

  “You go first,” Jenny said.

  Joanna was showered, had her makeup on, and was half through drying her hair when Jenny pushed open the bathroom door to say Joanna had a phone call.

  “Who is it?” Joanna asked.

  Jenny shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “Some guy.”

  “Hello,” Joanna answered.

  “Sheriff Brady?”

  The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes,” she said warily.

  “My name’s Bob Brundage. I’m down here in the lobby. I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a drink.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr…. What did you say your name is?”

  “Brundage,” he replied.

  “I’m not in the habit of meeting strangers for drinks. Besides, I’m expecting company….”

  “We have a mutual acquaintance,” Bob Brundage insisted. “I’m sure she’d be very disappointed if we didn’t take advantage of this little window of opportunity to get together.”

  “This isn’t about Amway, is it?” Joanna asked.

  Bob Brundage laughed so heartily at that question that Joanna found herself laughing as well. “I promise you,” he gasped at last. “This has absolutely nothing to do with Amway or with life insurance or with making a donation to your college alumni building fund, either.”

  The clock on the bedside table said 3:30. There was a whole hour between then and the time Adam York was supposed to show up for dinner. If Eleanor called, Jenny would be right there in the room to answer the phone.

  “All right,” Joanna agreed finally. “I’ll come down for a few minutes, although I can’t stay long because we’re due in the dining room for dinner at five. How will I know who you are?”

  “I’ll recognize you,” he said. “I’ve seen your picture.”

  “Who was that?” Jenny asked, as Joanna put down the phone.

  “A man. His name is Bob Brundage. He wants me to meet him downstairs in the lobby to have a drink.”

  “Are you going to go?”

  “Yes, but if Grandma Lathrop calls while I’m gone, tell her that I’m away from the phone and that I’ll call her back just as soon as I can.”

  Joanna returned to the bathroom. As she finished drying her hair, she began reconsidering her decision. The call had been vaguely unsettling, especially the part about Bob Brundage knowing so much about her while she knew nothing at all about him. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Joanna shivered, remembering the bathroom of her dormitory room on campus, the one with the two-way mirrors. Carol Strong’s assumption was that Dave Thompson was most likely the only person who had availed himself of those two-way mirrors to spy on the female inhabitants of the dormitory’s lower-floor rooms.

  But standing in the brightly lit bathroom of her room at the Hohokam, Joanna wondered about that. Dave Thompson might have shared the wealth with someone else—maybe even with several people. Some of the other instructors, perhaps, or maybe even some of Joanna’s fellow students. As the thought of a whole group of peeping toms crossed her mind, Joanna’s cheeks burned hot with indignation.

  Who was to say Dave Thompson would limit the invitees to people involved with the APOA? For all Joanna knew, he might have dragged people in off the street and charged admission. In fact, what if Bob Brundage turned out to be as much of a pervert as Dave Thompson was? Brundage claimed he had seen Joanna’s picture, but that might not be true. What if he had actually seen her stark-naked in the presumed privacy of her own bathroom? That would explain his knowing her without her knowing him. And what if he was dangerous as well? There was no reason to assume that Dave Thompson had acted alone in the attack on Leann Jessup. If Bob Brundage turned out to be Dave Thompson’s partner in crime…

  There was only one answer to all those questions, and it came straight out of The Girl Scout Handbook: Be prepared.

  Joanna emerged from the bathroom wearing only her underwear and found Jenny totally engrossed in watching Beauty and the Beast. Taking advantage of the video diversion, Joanna dressed quickly and carefully, concealing from Jenny the Kevlar vest she put on under her best white blouse and the shoulder-holstered Colt 2000 she strapped on under her new boiled-wool blazer.

  Downstairs, the lobby outside the elevator was crowded with a combination of hotel guests and holiday diners. Efforts to market the Hohokam’s Thanksgiving dinner had evidently been wildly successful. Formal seatings in the Gila Dining Room had started as early as one o’clock in the afternoon.

  Coming through the lobby, Joanna had planned on stopping by the dining room to let someone know the Brady party with reservations at five would be reduced from eight diners to seven. After glancing at the crowded dining room door and at the harried hostess trying to seat parties, Joanna decided against it.

  Instead, threading her way through the crush of people, she headed for the lobby cocktail bar. On the way, she walked past the gas-log fireplace where she had sat for such a long time the previous evening. Was that only yesterday? she wondered. It seemed much longer ago than that.

  “Joanna,” a man’s voice called. “Over here.”

  Without the subtle distortions of the telephone, Bob Brundage’s voice stopped her cold. The timbre was so familiar, she hardly dared turn her head to look. At the far end of the massive fireplace, a man in a military uniform rose from one of a pair of wing chairs and gestured for her to join him. Unable to move, Joanna stood as if frozen in the middle of the room.

  D.H. “Big Hank” Lathrop himself could have been standing there. Her father was standing there. And yet he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Big Hank had been dead for years. Besides, this man was far younger than Joanna’s father had been when he died. But the resemblance was eerie. It was as though the ghost of her father had stepped out of one of those old black-and-white photos and turned into a living, breathing human being.

  When Joanna didn’t move forward, the man did, coming toward her with his hand outstretched and with a broad smile on his tanned fa
ce.

  “Bob Brundage,” he said, introducing himself. He took Joanna by the elbow and guided her back toward the two empty chairs. “Colonel Brundage, actually. I told you it wasn’t Amway.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, finally finding her voice.

  “I’m the surprise,” he said. “Eleanor had her heart set on introducing us at dinner, but it seemed to me that might be too much of a shock for you. Judging by your reaction, I believe I’m right about that. What would you like to drink?”

  Joanna watched him in utter fascination. When Bob Brundage’s mouth moved, it was Joanna’s father’s mouth. He had the same narrow lips that turned up at the corners, the same odd space between his two front teeth.

  “I don’t care,” she answered. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Bob Brundage signaled the cocktail waitress. “Two Glenfiddich on the rocks,” he said. “So your folks never told you about me, did they?”

  “No. I knew there were a series of miscarriages before they ever had me, but…”

  Bob Brundage laughed again. The laughter, too, was hauntingly familiar. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but never a miscarriage,” he said. “Your mother—my birth mother, as we say in the world of adoptees—was only fifteen when she got pregnant with me.

  “According to Eleanor—you don’t mind if I call her that, do you?”

  Joanna shook her head.

  “According to Eleanor,” Bob continued, “Hank had just come back from the Korean War and got stationed at Fort Huachuca when they first reopened it. They met on a picnic on the San Pedro River. Eleanor wandered away from the church picnic and met up with a group of soldiers. She told me it was love at first sight. Of course, those were pre—birth control days. Her folks shipped her out of town when she turned up pregnant, forced her to give me up for adoption. But she told me that she and Hank secretly stayed in touch by letter the whole time she was gone, and that they took up again as soon as she came back to town. By then he was out of the army and working in the mines. After Eleanor graduated from high school, her folks finally consented to their getting married.