Exit Wounds jb-11

by J. A. Jance

  “No, please. It’s fine. I can talk for a few minutes. What is it?”

  “George thinks I was out of line,” Eleanor began uncertainly. “He thinks I owe you and”-she paused-“Butch an apology.” As long as Eleanor had known her son-in-law, she had made clear her preference for his given name, Frederick. Even now the word Butch seemed to stick in her throat.

  “You don’t have to apologize, Mom,” Joanna said. “We just have different ideas about how the world works, that’s all.”

  “It was unfair of me to enlist your brother’s help. It’s just that I so wanted you to listen to reason, which I’m sure you won’t.”

  Since that was true, Joanna said nothing.

  “George tells me that it’s a whole new century with different rules and roles for everyone, but I can’t see a grandchild of mine being raised by a …”

  “By a what, Mom?” Joanna asked.

  “By a novelist, I guess,” Eleanor said lamely. ‘And a male novelist at that. It strikes me as wrong, somehow-unseemly.”

  What about Jenny? Joanna wanted to ask. Butch is doing a fine job of raising her, isn’t he? But just then Ernie Carpenter, driving his own Mercury Sable, pulled into the parking lot. Hoping to head off the arriving detective was the real reason Joanna had rushed outside to take her phone call.

  “Mom,” Joanna said. “Sorry to interrupt, but something’s come up. I’ve got to go.”

  “See there?” Eleanor said. “Even when I’m calling to apologize, you can’t spare me even a moment of attention. You don’t have the time-you don’t take the time-to listen.

  It’s hopeless.”

  “Mom, I really do have to go. I’ll call you later.”

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  She hung up just as Ernie walked over to her. “What’s up, boss?” he asked.

  “Did you have a chance to go over my report?”

  “Jaime just called and gave me a rundown,” Ernie replied. “You picked up a lot of information. You think the guy in the ME’s office, the father, is a suspect?”

  “I’m not sure,” Joanna replied. “He could be.”

  “Do we need to Mirandize him?”

  Joanna shook her head. “Not right now. He’s not an actual suspect at this point.

  When you and Jaime talk to him, keep your questions to next-of-kin issues for right now. Pick up as much information and as many details as you can that we might be able to use later to trip him up in case he does turn into a suspect.”

  “Like what?” Ernie asked.

  “I think we can get away with asking him about when and how he learned of his daughter’s death. Ask him that, but don’t ask him where he was at the time she was murdered.

  We also need to figure out a way to keep him around long enough for us to decide if he is a suspect. Once he goes zipping back home to Mexico, we’ll never see him again.”

  “What’s the deal here?” Ernie asked. “Mossman’s not really a suspect, but he may turn into one, so you want us to keep him here. Do we have any solid evidence that makes him a likely suspect in any of these murders?’

  Joanna shook her head. “I’m not necessarily convinced that he actully killed any of the women, but I have a feeling he has something to do with it.”

  Ernie shook his head. “Great,” he grumbled. “Another one of your feelings. Those don’t exactly count as probable cause.”

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  “Exactly,” Joanna agreed. “That’s why you’re doing a next-of-kin interview and nothing else.”

  Just then a green-and-white cab pulled into the parking lot and stopped in the handicapped parking area in front of the door. While Joanna watched in amazement, the back door opened and Edith Mossman clambered out and then hobbled forward on her walker.

  “You wait right here,” she ordered the cabbie. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Joanna hurried up to her. “Mrs. Mossman,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see that son of mine,” Edith Mossman wheezed. “I’m not armed, so I can’t shoot him, but if I can get close enough to hit him with my walker, I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  “Please,” Joanna said, “you can’t do that. If you struck him, my officers would have to arrest you for assault.”

  “If that’s what it takes to keep him from taking Carol’s body back to Mexico, so be it. Lock me up if you have to, but hitting him will be worth it,” Edith Mossman declared grimly. “Beating the crap out of him won’t change a thing, but it’ll make me feel a lot better.”

  “Really, Mrs. Mossman,” Joanna said. “I can’t allow you inside if you’re planning a physical assault, but if you simply want to talk to your son-“

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “But telling him how you feel might do you as much or more good than hitting him.”

  Joanna took Edith by the arm. “Come on,” she added. “I’ll take you to where he is.”

  With Ernie trailing behind, Edith allowed herself to be led 250

  first into the building and then on into George Winfield’s office. As soon as Ed Mossman glimpsed his mother’s face, he was outraged.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” he demanded. “Get her out of here.”

  “Don’t talk about me as though I’m deaf or dumb, Eddie,” Edith ordered. “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself. I came here to tell you that you’re scum. That if I ever had a son, I don’t any longer.”

  “The feeling’s mutual there, I’m sure,” Ed Mossman fired back at her. “You don’t have a son and I don’t have a mother. That makes us even.”

  ‘And if you even attempt to take Carol back to Mexico with you, I swear, I’ll . .

  .”

  “You’ll what?” Mossman demanded. “You’ll disown me? You already did that. So what?”

  “I’ll take you to court, Eddie,” Edith vowed. “I’ll fight you down to my dying breath and down to my last penny. I may not have a lot of money, but I’ll bet I have more than you do.”

  As she spoke, slamming her walker on the floor with every step, Edith had moved across the room toward her son. She stopped when their faces were bare inches apart. Worried that Edith might still make good on her threat, Joanna moved closer as well, just in case she needed to separate them.

  For almost a minute, Edith Mossman stared at her son, saying nothing. When she did speak, it was in a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m so grateful your father didn’t live long enough to see what a monster you’ve become, Edward Mossman. What you did to those girls is utterly unthinkable!”

  With that, Edith turned on her heel and banged her way back out of the room. In the long silence that followed Edith’s exit,

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  Joanna once again heard Jeannine Phillips’s voice, telling her about animal hoarders-about who they were, where they came from, and why.

  “I’m one, too,” Jeannine had said.

  Jeannine Phillips had been a victim of child abuse. In a flash of clarity illuminated by Edith Mossman’s righteous anger, Joanna realized that the woman’s murdered granddaughter had also been victimized. As had her sisters. By their own father.

  George Winfield’s office was suddenly too small. The walls closed in on Joanna until she could barely breathe. “I’d better go check on Mrs. Mossman,” she managed.

  Out in the parking lot, the cabbie was already helping Edith into the backseat. “Please, Mrs. Mossman,” Joanna said, “I need to talk to you. Let the cab go. I’ll give you a ride back home when we finish.”

  Edith looked briefly at Joanna. “All right,” she said, then reached for her purse and wallet. She gave a handful of bills to the driver. “Thank you for getting me here in such a hurry young man,” she said. ‘And thank you for waiting. I really appreciate it.”

  The cabdriver counted through the money and then beamed back at Edith. Clearly she had given him a sizable tip. “Anytime, ma’am. You call the dispatcher and ask fo
r me personally. I’ll be glad to take care of you.”

  It took several minutes to help Edith Mossman into the car. Once she was settled, Joanna went back into the building. By then Jaime Carbajal had arrived on the scene.

  Joanna brought him up to speed. “You two handle Eddie,” Joanna told him. “In the meantime, I’m giving Mrs. Mossman a ride back to Sierra Vista.”

  Once in the driver’s seat of the Crown Victoria, Joanna 252

  glanced in Edith Mossman’s direction. She sat slumped in the passenger’s seat, staring stonily ahead at nothing in particular.

  ‘Are you all right?” Joanna asked.

  “I’m a failure,” Edith said quietly.

  ‘A failure?”

  ‘At motherhood. If I’d done a better job, Eddie wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.”

  “If your son turned out to be a child molester, it’s not your fault. It’s his.”

  Edith turned sharply and stared at Joanna. “I never said that,” she said.

  “No, you didn’t,” Joanna agreed. “You didn’t have to, but it is true, isn’t it?”

  Edith shut her eyes. Two fat tears dribbled slowly down her bony cheeks. Finally she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered brokenly. “Yes, it is.”

  “Would you tell me about it?”

  “It’s too late. It’s over and done with.”

  “It’s not over,” Joanna said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Edith asked.

  “Two other women were murdered last week over near Rodeo, New Mexico,” Joanna said.

  “Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega were independent television journalists doing a story on a group called The Brethren.”

  Joanna let the last word fall into the conversation like a pebble into a deep well.

  It took a long time for her to hear the answering splash.

  “The same group Eddie’s involved with,” Edith Mossman breathed at last.

  Joanna nodded. “Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega left California with a check for five thousand dollars from their

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  production company, Fandango Productions, made out to Carol Mossman. They were going to pay her to tell her story, Edith. Somebody murdered them and your granddaughter, too, in order to keep Carol from going public.”

  ‘And you think my son did that?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “If he did,” Edith said fiercely “then you have to lock him up and throw away the key.”

  “You’ll help us then?”

  ‘Absolutely. Just tell me what to do.”

  “You’ll need to talk to my detectives again.”

  Edith nodded. ‘All right,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you mention any of this to them the other day when you talked to them the first time?”

  Edith shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think it was important. And Carol never wanted to talk about it. At least she never did before. I thought I was respecting her wishes.

  But now … Of course I’ll talk to them, but there’s something else I need to do first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need to talk to a lawyer. I want someone to go to court for me to keep Eddie from taking Carol’s body away.”

  “You don’t have an attorney of your own?” Joanna asked.

  “I used to,” Edith said. “Augie Deming, out in Sierra Vista. He’s the one who did Grady’s and my wills, but that was years ago. Augie died a few years after Grady did. I haven’t used an attorney since.”

  While they talked, Joanna had started the car and driven down Tombstone Canyon as far as the downtown area. Now she pulled into a parking place. “Tell you what,” she said. “Burton Kimball’s office is just over there.” She pointed toward the 254

  entrance to a long redbrick building. “Burton’s an attorney. He’s also a friend of mine. He’s done some work for me over the years. I’m not sure what, if any, grounds he could use to keep your son from taking charge of Carol’s body but if it can be done, he’s the one to do it.”

  “Do I need to have an appointment in order to see him?” Edith asked.

  “Just a minute,” Joanna said. “I’ll find out.”

  Joanna used her cell phone to make sure Burton Kimball was available, then she escorted Edith as far as the office door. “You go inside and talk to him,” Joanna told Edith.

  “I’ll be waiting here when you’re done.”

  As soon as Edith disappeared inside, Joanna hurried back to the Civvie, and called Frank Montoya.

  “I guess the morning briefing’s been canceled due to lack of interest,” he said derisively.

  “Not lack of interest,” Joanna corrected. “Lack of personnel.” As quickly as possible, she explained everything that she had learned so far that morning.

  ‘As long as Ernie and Jaime are meeting with Eddie Mossman,” Joanna finished, “he’s not going anywhere. And I’m relatively certain that he’ll stick around town long enough to try to wrest Carol Mossman’s body out of Edith’s grasp. But we have to move fast. If he once figures out he’s becoming an actual suspect, I’m afraid he’ll disappear back into Mexico.”

  “So what do you want me to do?” Frank asked.

  “First, I want you to call down to the police department in Obregon and find out whether or not they made a next-of-kin notification. I also want to know when and how Eddie Mossman traveled from there to here.”

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  “Got it,” Frank said. “If he was involved in his daughter’s death, he wouldn’t need to be notified.”

  “Exactly. I also want you to get on the phone to Fandango Productions.”

  “Right. The television production company Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega worked with.

  I saw that in your report.”

  “Talk to Candace Leigh, the CFO. Have her send you to whoever you need to talk to.

  Find out if they have any details on Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega’s activities once they left there for Arizona. Diego Ortega said something about their being the target of one or more death threats. He even read me one that was purportedly from Ed Mossman. But it could have been sent by someone else. We need to know everything about that threat and any others that might have been received. If any police reports were made in regard to the threats, I want copies of those. And if Pam and Carmen sent any e-mails that contain notes or information, I’d like to have access to those as well. Somewhere along the way, they crossed paths with Carol Mossman’s killer.

  I want to know where and when that was.”

  “Anything else?” Frank asked.

  “Yes. Hidalgo County’s medical examiner is doing the two autopsies today. Call over there and let them know that I need preliminary results as soon as possible.”

  “How come?” Frank asked. “They were shot, weren’t they? What’s an autopsy going to tell us that we don’t already know?”

  “I want them to pinpoint the time of death as closely as possible. I want to know if they were murdered before or after Carol Mossman died.”

  “So you’re thinking Ed Mossman murdered the two women in New Mexico and his own daughter as well?”

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  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  “What if he skips out and goes back to Mexico before we pull together enough pieces to have probable cause?”

  Joanna was quiet for several moments as a tiny chip of an idea began to take shape in her head. ‘At this point, we don’t know for sure that Ed Mossman is a suspect.

  But I do know he’s been threatened. In fact, his own mother was all set to assault the man this morning.”

  “So?”

  “We tell him that, because we believe his life may be in danger, we’re putting him under a police guard. Have one of the deputies on hand when Jaime and Ernie finish their next-of-kin interview. Tell him that because we’ve been notified of what we believe to be a credible threat to his life, we’re offering him protection. Tell him if we didn
’t do that, there’s a possibility we’d be held liable in case anything happened to him.”

  “That’s stretching it a little, isn’t it?” Frank Montoya asked.

  “Whatever works,” Joanna returned.

  “Okay,” Frank said. “So I have my marching orders. Anything else?”

  “That’s all I can think of at the moment. No, wait. Any luck with Phelps Dodge on the General Office employees?”

  “Not yet. What do you think I am, some kind of miracle worker?”

  “Pretty much,” she told him.

  Frank Montoya wasn’t amused. “So while I’m busy making my next set of phone calls, what are you up to?” he asked.

  “I’m going to be picking Edith Mossman’s brain,” Joanna said. “Trying to get the goods on her son.”

  “Nice,” Frank said. “Call me a wimp if you want to, but I’ll stick to making phone calls. Getting a nice little old lady to turn

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  state’s evidence against her own son sounds a little underhanded to me.”

  “Maybe,” Joanna agreed. “But if Eddie Mossman is the kind of creep he seems to be, I’m in favor of doing whatever it takes to get him off the streets.”

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  When Edith Mossman emerged from Burton Kimball’s office, Joanna hurried forward.

  She helped the older woman into the car and stowed her walker in the backseat. Once Joanna’s seat belt was fastened, she glanced at Edith. The older woman sat motionless.

  Her head was thrown back against the headrest; both eyes were closed. ‘Are you all right?” Joanna asked. “Tired,” Edith returned. “I’m very tired.” “Have you had anything to eat?”

  Edith shook her head. “Knowing that Eddie was coming here to make trouble upset me so much that I couldn’t eat a thing.”

  “Let’s go have some lunch then,” Joanna offered. “You’ll feel better after you have some food.”

  “I don’t think so,” Edith said hopelessly. “I don’t think any 260

  thing is going to make me feel better ever again, but I suppose I do need to keep up my strength.”

  “Did Burton think he could help you?”

  “Mr. Kimball wasn’t sure,” Edith replied. “He said we could probably slow things down some, but he didn’t know if we can stop Eddie from taking Carol’s body away altogether. He said that if Carol were a minor or incapacitated in some way and I had been appointed her guardian, then it was more likely he could fix this. Or if I had some kind of written document, like a will or something, specifying her wishes, then that would work, too. As it is, Eddie, as her father, is officially considered to be her next of kin.”