Partner In Crime

She told him everything she had learned earlier from both Bobo Jenkins and Dee Canfield.

“Since she’s going ahead with the show,” Jaime said, “I guess I should be there. One of the guests may be able to fill in some of our blanks on the victim.”

“Speaking of blanks,” Joanna said. “Have you talked to that guy up in Washington?”

“O.H. Todd?” Jaime replied. “I’ve tried. I’ve called his number three different times. All I get is voice mail. So far he hasn’t bothered to call me back.”

“The man must have a boss,” Joanna said. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out, Jaime, and get me his number,” Joanna said. “I’ll give him a call. Maybe the big boss can set a fire under Mr. Todd’s butt.”

Jaime Carbajal grinned. “Works for me,” he said. He left the room. A few minutes later he returned with a slip of paper.

“Good luck,” he said, handing it over.

Joanna glanced at her watch. “It’s already after five. He’s probably gone.”

“Try anyway,” Jaime said.

Picking up her phone, Joanna dialed. “Attorney general’s office,” a woman’s voice answered.

“I’d like to speak to Mr. Ross Alan Connors,” Joanna said. “This is Sheriff Joanna Brady of Cochise County, Arizona.”

“May I say what this is concerning?”

“Latisha Wall.”

There was a noticeable pause. “One moment, please.”

As soon as the operator went away, canned classical music began playing, interrupted periodically by a recorded voice apologizing for the length of the wait and assuring Joanna that her call was very important to them and that someone would be with her as soon as possible. The third time she heard the equally canned apology she was ready to blow.

Five minutes later a live voice finally returned to the line. “I’m sorry. Mr. Connors is in a meeting right now.”

“Any idea what time he’ll be through with it?”

“None at all. Sorry.”

Like hell you’re sorry, Joanna thought. “What about O.H. Todd?” she asked. “Is he available?”

“He’s also in a meeting.”

The same one, no doubt.

“Would you like to be connected to Mr. Connors’s voice mail?” the woman asked.

“No, thank you,” Joanna said. “I’d like you to personally take a message. Tell him Sheriff Joanna Brady needs to speak to him, urgently. Detective Jaime Carbajal, the investigator working Latisha Wall’s death, has so far been unable to reach Mr. Todd. Obviously, time is of the essence.” After leaving her office, home, and cell-phone numbers, Joanna hung up. Across the desk from her Jaime Carbajal scowled.

“You got the same treatment I did,” he said. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for a callback.”

HARRY IGNATIUS BALL HAD TURNED off the light in his office and was about to close the door and head home when his phone rang. Muttering irritably under his breath, he returned to his desk and grabbed up the receiver.

“Special Unit B,” he said. “Ball speaking.”

“Harry, glad I caught you,” O.H. Todd said, sounding relieved. “I just got cut loose from a meeting that lasted all afternoon.”

Harry rattled his car keys, hoping O.H. would get the message. “What’s up?” he asked.

“How’s Beaumont doing?”

“What do you mean, how’s he doing?”

“Is he up to speed?” O.H. asked. “Ready to send out on a case?”

Harry snorted. “He was ready for that the day he got here. Why?”

“We’ve developed a problem down in Arizona. A place called Bisbee. Ross may need to ship someone down to check it out.” Todd paused. “What can you tell me about Beaumont?” he added. “About him personally, I mean. What kind of guy is he?”

“From what I’ve seen so far,” Harry replied, “he isn’t exactly a team player.”

“Maybe that’s okay,” O.H. Todd said thoughtfully. “In fact, for this case, that may be just what the doctor ordered.”

IT WAS ALMOST SEVEN when Joanna finally pulled into the yard at High Lonesome Ranch. The house was dark and locked up tight. Once inside, she discovered that Jenny and Butch had evidently already eaten. A single place setting remained on the table in the breakfast nook. In the middle of the plate was a note from Butch saying he had taken Jenny back into town for a play rehearsal and that there was a green chili casserole waiting for her in the fridge. All she had to do was heat it up.

After locking her weapons away and changing clothes, Joanna dished up a serving of the casserole and put the plate in the microwave. “Looks like I’m in the doghouse, too,” she said to Sadie and Tigger, who sprawled comfortably on the kitchen floor. Other than thumping their tails in unison, the dogs made no further comment.

Joanna picked halfheartedly at the casserole – a dish that was usually one of her favorites. All the while she couldn’t help wondering if Butch was still mad at her about the model train situation. He said he wasn’t, but he still must be, she surmised. After all, he hadn’t bothered calling to remind her about having to eat early due to Jenny’s rehearsal. If he had, she could have come home earlier rather than waiting for Ross Connors to have the common decency to return her call. Now Joanna was home by herself when she didn’t especially want to be alone.

No longer hungry, she divvied the remaining casserole on her plate into two portions and plopped them into the dog dishes. Uncharacteristically, Sadie showed no interest in the proffered treat. She stayed where she was, allowing Tigger to lick both dishes clean.

Joanna leaned down and patted the bluetick hound on her smooth, round forehead. “We’re both a little out of sorts today, aren’t we, girl,” she said.

Joanna spent the evening catching up on reading, watching the clock, and waiting for the telephone to ring. It was after nine before Butch’s Subaru finally pulled into the yard. Joanna and the dogs went out to greet the new arrivals.

“How was rehearsal?” Joanna asked.

“Awful,” Jenny said. “The show’s just two weeks away and most of the boys still don’t know their lines. It’s going to be a gigantic flop, Mom. I wish Miss Stammer would cancel it. We’re all going to be up on stage looking stupid.”

“It’ll be fine, Jen,” Joanna reassured her, tousling Jenny’s blond curls. Behind Jenny’s back, Butch rolled his eyes and shook his head as if to say Jenny’s assessment was far closer to the truth than any motherly platitudes.

Jenny took the dogs and went into the house. Joanna turned to Butch. “Is it really that bad?”

“I’ll say,” Butch said.

Joanna changed the subject. “You should have called and reminded me to come home early.”

Butch reached into the car and removed the roll of blueprints that, these days, seemed to be a natural extension of his arm. When he turned to reply, he wasn’t smiling.

“I had to remind you to come to lunch today,” he said. “I figured you were a big enough girl that you could decide when to come home for dinner on your own.”

Ouch, Joanna thought.

She followed him into the house and locked the back door once she was inside. Butch put the blueprints on the dining room table. Joanna thought he would unroll them and pore over them as he did almost every night. Instead he said, “I think I’ll turn in.”

“You just got home,” Joanna objected. “Don’t you want to talk?”

Butch shook his head. “I’m beat. Quentin and I have a meeting first thing in the morning. Night.”