Exit Wounds (4 page)

The puppy drank until he seemed ready to pop. He would have drunk more, but Manny took the cup away and poured out what was left. “That’s enough, little fella,” he said. “You drink any more right now, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Manuel Ruiz put the puppy down on the ground, where it staggered around in circles for a moment or two, then dropped onto Manny’s booted foot and fell sound asleep. The heavyset officer stared down at the puppy with a look of such tender concern on his face that Joanna was almost embarrassed to have seen it. Somehow she had fallen victim to the kind of stereotypical thinking that assumes Animal Control officers don’t like animals. Clearly that wasn’t the case with Officer Ruiz.

“He is a cute little guy,” Doc Winfield agreed. “And I could stand here watching him sleep all day, but I’d better go have a look at my victim. Your detectives will be pissed at me for holding up the show.”

He strode off, leaving Joanna and Manny looking down at the puppy. “He’s so little, I hate to take him to the pound,” Manny said thoughtfully.

Joanna looked at the contented wad of sleeping puppy. It was months now since Jenny’s bluetick hound, Sadie, had succumbed to cancer. Neither Joanna nor Butch had brought up the subject of getting another dog, and Jenny had seemed content to divide her time and attention between Kiddo, her horse, and her remaining dog, Tigger, a comical half pit-bull, half golden-retriever mutt. Now, though, seeing this homeless puppy, Joanna knew this was the right dog at the right time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joanna said, reaching down and plucking the sleeping puppy off Manny Ruiz’s boot. “Lucky’s going home with me.”

Two

F inished making his tire- and footprint casts, Dave Hollicker had disappeared into the mobile home while Joanna spoke to Manny. Now, as the CSI emerged once more, Joanna went to meet him. Dave’s face was flushed and his clothing was soaked with sweat.

“What’s up?” Joanna asked.

“It’s hotter’n hell in there,” he said, wiping his streaming forehead. “No electricity, so there’s no air-conditioning, and we’re losing the light. Doc Winfield’s wondering if you have an extra trouble light with you. And where’d you get that cute little puppy?”

The puppy, cradled in Joanna’s arm, was still fast asleep. Stuffing the sleeping animal inside her shirt, Joanna fumbled the Blazer keys out of her pocket and handed them over. “Manny found him out in the shed,” she explained. “There’s a trouble light in the back of the Blazer. Doc Winfield is welcome to it, but what’s the matter with the electricity? Can’t you replace a fuse or pull a breaker and get the cooler running again?”

Dave shook his head. “We’ve placed a call to the power company. They told us the juice is turned off due to lack of payment. We’ve requested that they switch it back on as soon as possible, but they don’t seem to be in any particular hurry.”

Two more patrol cars and a second Animal Control vehicle drove up. “That’ll be Deputies Raymond and Howell,” Dave said. “What do you want them to do?”

“The shots came through the back door, right?”

Hollicker nodded.

“And you’ve done all the footprints?”

“All I could find.”

“While it’s still light enough, then, have Raymond and Howell start a preliminary foreign-object search,” Joanna said.

“Will do.”

Jeannine Phillips walked into the yard lugging a large box.

Dave started away, then turned back to the two Animal Control officers. “Doc Winfield also said that he’d like you to remove those dead dogs as soon as possible. There are dog dishes and dead dogs everywhere. The ME needs them out of the way. Since there’s so little room to work in, maybe one of you could go inside and ferry the dogs as far as the door. Remember, though, this is a crime scene. Whoever goes inside needs to wear booties and sign in on the crime scene diary.”

“I’ll go,” Manny offered. Wordlessly Jeannine handed him the box with its load of large plastic bags.

During the next half hour, Joanna watched as Manny carted one heavily laden bag after another to the door, where he passed the burden along to Jeannine, who then hauled it out to the waiting trucks. It offended the dog lover in Joanna to see all those dead animals carted off like so much unwanted garbage. Mentally keeping track of the number of trips, Joanna was doubly conscious of the tiny heart of the contentedly sleeping puppy beating a feather-light tattoo against her lower ribs.

Which one of those black bags holds Lucky’s mother?
she wondered.
And how come he’s still alive when all the other dogs are dead?

Jeannine Phillips was a strapping young woman who had once, as a junior in high school, gone out for boys’ football. Bisbee High School’s football coach had let her try out for the Pumas’ JV team, but a broken leg during a pre-season workout session had put an end to her football-playing ambitions. It had also left her with a slight but permanent limp. After only a year or so of junior college, she had started working Animal Control on a part-time basis and had never left. Now the situation was reversed, however. She worked full-time for Animal Control and was a part-time student at the University of Arizona’s satellite campus in Sierra Vista, where she was within twenty or so units of completing her bachelor’s degree.

Clearly the situation that afternoon offended Jeannine Phillips every bit as much as it did Joanna Brady.

“This never should have happened,” Jeannine grumbled as she returned to collect yet another bag. “If we weren’t so damn shorthanded, maybe one of us could have gotten back out here earlier to check on things. Maybe all these dogs wouldn’t be dead now.”

On her best days Jeannine Phillips was a naturally taciturn loner. On occasion she was downright surly. This time, as far as Joanna was concerned, the woman’s complaint and attitude were both entirely understandable, and although Joanna tried not to take the criticism personally, she knew some of it was justified. With all the other demands on her time, Sheriff Brady
was
too busy to give Animal Control the kind of attention it deserved. It was hardly surprising that they viewed themselves as unwelcome stepchildren inside Joanna’s department.

As for Jeannine Phillips, she had more grounds for dissatisfaction on that score than all of her compatriots put together. When the previous head of Animal Control had resigned the position, Jeannine should have been the logical choice for promotion. After all, she had worked in the unit longer than anyone else. She knew the procedures and understood how things were supposed to work. Now, with Joanna’s time and attention often focused elsewhere, Jeannine had been forced to assume the unenviable position of unofficial acting manager. As such, she supervised the unit’s day-to-day activities without the added credibility of an official title or any additional pay to compensate her for the extra work.

“I was under the impression it was handled properly,” Joanna offered. “Manny told me when he came here earlier today, it was at the end of Carol Mossman’s two-week compliance period.”

“Right,” Jeannine muttered. “But if we’d been doing the job we should have been doing, we would have known about this woman a long time ago. Maybe we could have done something to correct the situation long before she had a chance to work herself all the way up to eighteen dogs.”

There was no arguing with that. Just then, Manny emerged carrying one last bag. He paused next to Joanna. “This is it, Sheriff Brady,” he said. “If you want to go in, it’s clear now.”

Manny trudged away toward his truck, still wearing his crime scene booties. Steeling her heart for whatever gruesome sight awaited her inside the overheated mobile home, Joanne went looking for a pair of booties of her own. Before she could put them on, however, a cab drove down the gravel driveway and stopped in front of the gate in the chain-link fence. Moments later, the driver hopped out of the cab, opened the back door, and reached in to help his passenger exit.

While Joanna watched, a pint-size white-haired woman, moving with the aid of a walker, emerged from the backseat. Impatiently shaking off the cabdriver’s helping hand, she headed straight for Manny Ruiz, who had just finished loading the final bag into his truck.

“You can’t take Carol’s dogs away!” she shrieked at the Animal Control officer. Her walker get hung up briefly on a clump of dried grass. For a moment Joanna feared the woman would pitch forward over the handlebars and land on her head. Instead, she righted herself and resumed her tirade.

“Do you hear me, young man? You can’t.” A moment later she had closed the distance between them. Parking her walker directly in front of the startled Manuel Ruiz, she glared up at him and shook a tiny fist in his face.

“You let those dogs out of that truck right this minute!” she ordered. “Whatever the fine is, I’ll pay it. I have my checkbook right here.” Leaning on the walker with one hand, she seized a purse out of the basket on the handlebars and flailed that at him as well. Fortunately for all concerned, Manny dodged out of the way before the purse connected with his chin.

Joanna hurried over to the melee. “Please, ma’am,” she said. “Officer Ruiz is just doing his job.”

The woman abandoned her attack on Manny Ruiz and rounded on Joanna instead. “His job?” she demanded. “Just because Carol doesn’t make enough money to pay expensive vet bills is no reason to come take her pets away. What a heartless, mean-spirited thing to do. She loves those dogs, you see. Loves them and needs them.”

“You know Carol Mossman, then?” Joanna asked.

“Know her!” the woman snorted. “Of course I know her! Why wouldn’t I? She’s my granddaughter, isn’t she?” The old lady glowered at Joanna through narrowed eyes. “And who are you?” she demanded. “Another one of these glorified dogcatchers?”

“Hey, lady,” the cabdriver called. “How long do you think you’ll be? My dispatcher wants to know when I’ll be back in Sierra Vista.”

Now the woman turned her considerable ire on him. “You just hold your horses, young man,” she snapped. “Can’t you see I’m busy? It’s going to take however long it takes. I already told you I’ll pay for you to hold the cab, so hold it!” She turned back to Joanna. “Now who did you say you are again?”

“I didn’t have a chance to say,” Joanna said, removing her ID wallet from her hip pocket. “I’m Sheriff Joanna Brady. These are my two Animal Control officers, Jeannine Phillips and Manuel Ruiz.”

The woman glanced briefly at Joanna’s ID and then handed it back. “Since when is the sheriff in charge of the dog pound?” she demanded. “I should think, as sheriff, you’d have far more important things to do. And since when does it take this many people to pick up a few dogs? But as long as you’re here, maybe you can help me get them to let Carol’s dogs loose. As I tried to explain to this officer here, I’ve come with my checkbook. However much the fine is, I’m willing to pay it.”

“And your name is?” Joanna asked.

“Mossman. Edith Mossman.”

“That’s my car right over there,” Joanna suggested, pointing toward the parked Blazer. “Maybe we should go sit in it for a few minutes.”

“Sit in it?” Edith demanded. “What do you mean, sit in it? Are you placing me under arrest, is that it? Is it illegal for me to try to get my granddaughter’s property back? Or are you implying that I hurt that officer in any way? I never touched you, now did I? In fact, I never laid a glove on you.”

Manny Ruiz nodded warily but maintained a discreet distance.

“I’m not placing you under arrest,” Joanna continued quickly. “Not at all. I just thought you might be more comfortable sitting down while we talked.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable standing right here,” Edith Mossman insisted. “And I’ll be even more comfortable once Mr. Dog-catcher here lets those poor dogs out of his truck. It’s inhumane to have them locked up like that on such a miserably hot day. I can’t see that there’s anything else to discuss.”

“Mrs. Mossman,” Joanna said gently. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but there’s something I must tell you. We’re here this afternoon because this is a homicide scene.”

Edith Mossman frowned as though she hadn’t quite understood the word. “Homicide?” she repeated. “You mean someone’s dead?”

“Yes,” Joanna said quietly. “Inside the mobile home.”

“In Carol’s mobile home?”

Joanna nodded. Edith Mossman pointed her thumb in Manny’s direction. “What’s he doing here, then?”

“He came to pick up the dogs,” Joanna said with a sigh. “They’re dead, too, Mrs. Mossman. Except for one, they were all locked inside the trailer with no air-conditioning and no water…”

“Are you telling me Carol’s dead? My sweet little Carol?”

“I’m so sorry,” Joanna said, “but, yes. We’re quite certain she’s the one who’s dead. Officer Ruiz here had encountered your granddaughter before and knew her on sight.”

All the spunk and fight drained out of Edith Mossman. Her grip on the handlebars of her walker went flaccid while her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Seeing her knees crumple, Manny Ruiz leaped forward. He caught the unconscious woman before she could fall to the ground. He lifted her waist-high as easily as he had carried the dead dogs.

“Where to, Sheriff Brady?” he asked.

“To the Blazer,” Joanna said. “Put her in the backseat. Jeannine, quick. Bring some water.”

Edith was out cold for only a matter of seconds, but the momentary fainting spell seemed to last forever—long enough for Joanna to wonder if the woman had suffered a heart attack or stroke. But by the time Manny Ruiz deposited Edith in the Blazer the stricken woman had regained consciousness and was struggling to sit up. Impatiently she pushed aside Jeannine’s proffered bottle of water.

“I have to see her,” Edith sputtered, struggling to clamber back out of the vehicle. “I have to see Carol. Take me to her.”

“That’s not possible at this time,” Joanna said. “It’s a crime scene, Mrs. Mossman. Other than the investigators, no one’s allowed inside until they and Dr. Winfield finish their on-site work.”

“You mean there’s a doctor in there with her?” Edith demanded. “Maybe he can help her. Maybe she’ll be all right then.”

Joanna shook her head. “He’s not that kind of doctor, Mrs. Mossman. Doc Winfield is the Cochise County Medical Examiner. It might be best if you went home and waited for them to finish up inside. At that point, we will need a family member to make a positive identification, but there’s no sense in your waiting around here. It could take hours.”