Paradise Lost (7 page)

“Off Highway 186. From Bisbee it’s about an hour’s drive,” Frank answered, his native-son knowledge apparent in the casual ease of his answer. “Depending on how fast you drive, of course.” Deputies around the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department didn’t call the new county medical examiner “Doc Lead Foot” for nothing.

“Good,” George replied. “I’ll be there as close to that as I can manage. See you then ...”

“Wait,” Frank interrupted. “Before you come, there’s something else you should know. Jennifer Brady is the one who found the body—she and one of her friends, a girl named Dora Matthews.”

By virtue of having married Eleanor Lathrop, Dr. George Winfield was stepfather to Sheriff Joanna Brady and stepgrandfather to Joanna’s daughter, Jenny. It came to him then that the something that had been niggling at the back of his mind throughout his conversation with Frank Montoya was something Eleanor had mentioned in passing: Jenny and her Girl Scout troop would b camping on a ranch in the Apache Pass area over Memorial Day Weekend.

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“How did they manage that?” he asked.

“According to Jenny, after lights out, she and Dora took off on an unauthorized hike. They were going off by themselves to have a cigarette—”

“Jenny was smoking cigarettes?” a disbelieving George Winfeld demanded. “She’s twelve years old, for cripes’ sake! How the hell did she get hold of cigarettes?”

“Beats me,” Frank answered. “I’m just passing along what Faye Lambert, the troop leader, told me. Faye’s royally pissed at the two girls, and I don’t blame her. I would be, too. She wants to send them home.”

Concerned that Eleanor might have awakened and stolen out of the bedroom, George glanced over his shoulder before resuming his conversation. “What about Joanna?” George asked, lowering his voice. “Have you called her?”

“Not yet,” Frank admitted. “I’m about to, but first I wanted to have some game plan in place for getting those two girls back to town. It’s already after eleven, and Page is six hundred miles from here. It doesn’t make sense having Joanna drive hell-bent-for leather from one end of the state to the other in the middle of the night so they could come pick them up.”

“What about the other girl’s mother?” George Winfield asked. “Couldn’t she come get them?”

“Negative on that. I tried calling Dora Matthews’s house up in Tombstone Canyon. There’s no answer.”

“You’re not asking me to bring them home, are you?” George Winfield asked warily. “They can’t very well ride home in my minivan along with a bagged-up body.”

“You’re right,” Frank agreed. “It’s totally out of the question, but I am asking for suggestions.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because Jenny’s the sheriff’s daughter,” Frank said. “It’ll look like she’s being given special treatment. Assuming Joanna decides to stand for election to a second term, you can imagine how that would play if it fell into the hands of her opponent.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” George Winfield agreed. “What about calling Jim Bob and Eva Lou Brady?” he asked after a short pause. “As I understand it, they’re staying out at High Lonesome Ranch to look after things while Joanna and Butch are out of town. When it comes to Jenny, I’m sure they’ll do whatever needs doing.”

“Good idea,” Frank Montoya replied, sounding relieved. “So who’s going to call them, you or I?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” George said. “Since you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with Joanna, I’ll be happy to call Jim Bob and Eva Lou.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. “That’ll be a big help.”

“Are you going to tell her about the cigarettes?” George asked.

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“Not it I don’t have to,” Frank said. “I’d as soon leave that chore to someone else—like Faye Lambert, for instance. The murder investigation is my responsibility. The cigarettes aren’t.”

“Good luck,” George said with a laugh.

Once Frank was off the line, George located the speed-dial number for High Lonesome Ranch that Eleanor had coded into their phone. Jim Bob Brady answered on the third ring. “Hey, Jim Bob, it’s George.”

“I figured that out by looking at the caller ID.”

“Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Naw,” Jim Bob said. “Eva Lou’s in the bedroom getting ready for bed. I’m sitting here watching Jay Leno. Why? What’s going on?”

In as few words as possible, George Winfield outlined the prob-lem. “Whoa!” Jim Bob exclaimed once he’d heard the whole story. “Joanna’s going to pitch a fit.”

“I don’t doubt that,” George agreed.

“Does she know yet?”

“Frank will be calling her in a few minutes, but he’s waiting to make sure you’ll go out to Apache Pass and bring Jenny and the other girl home. Otherwise, he’s afraid Joanna will light out of Page and drive all night to get here.”

“Give me Frank’s number,” Jim Bob said. “As soon as I give him a call, Eva Lou and I will head right out to go get them.”

“You don’t think Eva Lou will mind?”

“Good grief, no! When it comes to handling ornery kids, there’s nobody better than Eva Lou.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” George Winfield agreed. Much as he loved his own wife, he had no doubt that in this kind of crisis Eleanor Lathrop Winfield would be far less help than Jenny’s other grandmother.“ Seeyou there,” he added.

“Will do,” Jim Bob said. “Drive carefully.”

George put down the phone. Barely breathing, he crept back into the bedroom and retrieved his clothing, wallet, and keys. Despite his caution, the clatter of lifting his keys from the glass-topped dresser was enough to waken his wife.

“George?” Eleanor asked. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he returned. “I’ve been called out on a case. Go back to sleep.”

“Will you be long?”

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“You know how it goes,” he said. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly on the top of her forehead. “If I’m not home by breakfast, save me a place.”

“Will do,” she said sleepily. Then she rolled over, sighed, and immediately resumed snoring.

George stood there feeling that he had somehow dodged a bul-let. Only for the time being, of course. Once Eleanor found out about Jenny and the body and the cigarettes and once Eleanor fig-ured out that George had known about the situation without immediately telling her, then there would be hell to pay, but George was used to that. He and his first wife had hardly ever quarreled. In this new life and in his second marriage, he was learning to enjoy his almost daily sparring matches with the perpetually volatile Eleanor. George got a kick out of the daily skirmishes and even more enjoy-ment out of making tip again afterward.

Makes life more interesting,George thought to himself as he once again let himself out of the bedroom and silently pulled the door shut behind him.It helps keep us young--or at least not asold as we would beotherwise.

Joanna Brady was asleep and dreaming that she was driving her Blazer across a bone-dry wash bed. Halfway through the wash, the engine stalled. Time and again, Joanna twisted the key in the ignition, but the engine refused to turn over. Hearing a rumbling sound coining from outside, Joanna looked up in time to see a wall of flash-flood-swollen water bearing down on her. She was reaching for the door handle when the phone rang. She grabbed up the receiver of the hotel phone, but still the persistent racket continued. On the second try she located her cell phone.

“Hello?” she said, without even bothering to check the caller-ID readout as she did so.

Beside her, Butch rolled over and groaned. “What now?” he muttered.

“Morning, Boss,” Frank Montoya said. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What time is it?” Joanna asked.

“Almost midnight.”

“What’s up?”

“A homicide,” Frank replied. “Out in Apache Pass. Jenny and one of her friends, Dora Matthews, discovered the body.”

Joanna sat straight up in bed. “Jenny?” she demanded. “Is she all right? Is she in any danger?”

“No,” Frank said. “I’m sure she’s fine, although I haven’t actu-ally seen her myself. I’m still at the crime scene. She and the other girl are back at camp. Faye Lambert is here with me. We’ll be going up there as soon as Ernie Carpenter and Doc Winfield show up to take charge of the crime scene.”

Holding the phone with one hand, Joanna scrabbled out of bed and began gathering clothing.

“It’ll take some time to get checked out,” she said. “But if we leave within the next half hour, we can probably be there by eight-thirty or so.”

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“Slow down, Boss,” Frank was saying. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“What do you mean, it isn’t necessary?” Joanna returned. “If my daughter is involved in a homicide—”

“I didn’t say she was involved,” Frank corrected. “I said she found a body. From the looks of it, the woman’s been dead for a while, so it isn’t as though Jenny actually witnessed a crime in progress. Not only that, I just now got off the phone with Jim Bob Brady. He and Eva Lou are on their way out to Apache Pass to bring Jenny and the other girl, Dora Matthews, back into town.”

“I still think we should get dressed and head out just as soon as—”

“Why?” Frank interrupted. “What difference is it going to make if you get here at eight o’clock in the morning or at two o’clock in the afternoon? Jenny’s fine, and she’ll be in good hands with the Bradys taking care of her. As for the homicide investiga-tion, we have that under control.

Ernie Carpenter and Doc Winfield are both on their way and should be here in a matter of minutes. As soon as one of them shows up, I’ll go check on Jenny, but from what Faye Lambert said, I think she’s fine. Jenny and her friend found the body, and they reported it to Mrs.

Lambert right away.

“But where was it, right there where they’re camping?”

“Not exactly,” Frank said. “It seems that after lights-out, Jenny and the other girl, Dora Matthews, snuck off by themselves to smoke a cigarette—”

“‘They did what?”

“Went to smoke a cigarette. Jenny evidently got sick to her stomach and barfed her guts out. It was sometime after that they found the body. I’m at the crime scene now. I’d say it’s a good half mile from where the girls are camping.”

“What’s going on?” Butch asked in the background. “Has something happened to Jenny?”

“Cigarettes!” Joanna exclaimed, waving aside Butch’s question. “Jenny was smoking cigarettes?I’ll kill her. Put her on the phone.”

“I can’t. I already told you, she isn’t here right now,” Frank said. “She’s back at camp and that’s a good half a mile from the crime scene. Faye left the girls in a motor home back at the campsite and gave them strict orders not to budge until we get there, which shouldn’t be all that long now.”

“As soon as I can get dressed and out of here, we’ll be on our way,” Joanna said.

“Come on, Boss,” Frank returned. “Page is at least an eight-hour drive from here, even the wayyou drive. It’s also the middle of the night. The last thing we need is for you to take off at midnight to drive home. You’ll end up in a wreck somewhere between here and there. I’ve got things under control as far as the investigation is concerned, and your in-laws are coming to take care of Jenny. I suggest that you try to get a decent night’s sleep right where you are and then drive home in the morning.”

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Joanna had been pacing back and forth across the room with the phone in one hand and a fistful of clothing in the other. Now she stopped pacing and took a deep breath. Even in her agitated state she could see there would be plenty of time for her to deal with Jenny and her experimentation with cigarettes. The real point of Frank’s middle-of-the-night phone call was the homicide in Joanna’s jurisdiction. That meant she needed to switch off her motherly outrage and put on her sheriff persona.

“You’d better tell me what you know about the victim,” she said. “Any idea who she is?”

“No,” Frank answered. “She’s naked. No ID, nothing.”

“And no vehicle?”

“Not that we’ve been able to find so far. I’d say she was killed somewhere else and then dumped here. Of course, Doc Winfield will be able to tell us more about that.”

“You’ll cast for tire tracks?” Joanna asked.

“Yes, but depending on how long ago she was brought here, I doubt if tire casts will do us any good.”

By then, Butch had switched on his lamp and was sitting up on his side of the bed. “Do I get dressed or don’t I?” he asked.

Joanna knew Frank Montoya was right. Driving through the night on less than two hours’ sleep made no sense. “No,” she said to Butch. “Not yet.”

“Not yet what?” Frank asked.

“I was talking to Butch. You’re right. We probably shouldn’t leave until morning, but I’d like to talk to Jim Bob and Eva Lou before I make a final decision. And to Jenny,” she added.

“All right,” Frank said. “Since I’ve got a decent cell-phone sig-nal here, it’ll probably work at the camp, too. As soon as we’re all in one place, I’ll give you a call back.”

“Thanks,” Joanna said. “Sounds good.”

She ended the call and then crawled back into bed.

“So what’s the deal?” Butch asked.

“Jenny and Dora Matthews snuck out of camp after lights-out to smoke cigarettes,” she answered. “While they were doing that, they stumbled upon a homicide victim. Jim Bob and Eva Lou are coming to pick the girls up and take them home to Bisbee.”

“But the girls are both all right?”

“Fine,” Joanna answered testily. “At least they will be until I catch up with them. I can’t believe it. Jenny smoking! What do you suppose got into her?”

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“She’s twelve,” Butch said, stifling a yawn. “She’s growing up, trying her wings. Don’t make a federal case out of-it.”

Joanna turned on him, mouth agape. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean stay cool,” he said. “It’s only cigarettes. The more you overreact, the worse it’ll be.

Think about you and your mother. What about all the things Eleanor used to tellyou not to do?”

“I couldn’t wait to go out and try them,” Joanna conceded. “Every single one of Eleanor’s thou-shalt-nots, right down the line, turned into one of my must-dos.”

Butch reached over and wrapped an arm around Joanna’s shoulder, pulling her toward him.