York looked at her under raised eyebrows. “Including suicide?”

She nodded. York removed a small note-book from his coat pocket and made a quick notation. “What about accidental death?” he asked.

“That too,” Joanna replied. “The accidental death benefit doesn’t apply in the case of suicide but it does for homicide.”

“Oh, I see,” York said. “How interesting.” He acted as though that bit of information was new to him, although Joanna was certain he knew better. For a long moment they stood together in the parking lot while York seemed engrossed in studying what he’d written in the notebook. Finally he glanced up at her.

“Three hundred thousand dollars,” he mused shrewdly. “That seems like a considerable amount of insurance for someone in your financial situation, isn’t it, Joanna?”

Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Mr. York,” she said tersely. “I work for a company that sells life insurance. If I sold Tupperware, I might own more Tupperware. If I sold Mary Kay Cosmetics, I might wear more makeup. There’s also a policy on me that would have gone to Andy had our situations been reversed.”

York shook his head and pocketed the notebook. “If you’ll pardon my saying it, Joanna, m somewhat surprised you can talk about all is in such a cold-blooded manner.”

He had started opening the door. In a burst of fury she slammed it shut under his hand.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry, if I offended you,” he apologized.

“The hell you’re sorry! You’re implying that I had something to do with Andy’s death, aren’t you.’

York looked at her in mock bemusement. “Did I say that? I don’t remember mentioning anything of the kind.”

Some women become shrill when they’re angry or upset. Joanna Brady’s voice dropped to an icy whisper. “I’d check with the Tucson police, if I were you, Mr. York. Check out the preliminary autopsy results. When you do, I believe you’ll find you owe me an apology.”

He frowned. “How is it that someone like you has immediate access to those kinds of reports?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter how,” she countered. “What matters is that I do!”

With that, she spun on her heels and marched back into the office where she found her mother standing by the window, peering through the blinds at the Taurus backing out of its parking place.

“Who’s that man?” Eleanor asked. “Is he really with the DEA?”

“That’s what he says,” Joanna answered grimly, “although I’m not so sure he’s telling the truth.”

“Why was he here? What did he want with you?”

“That I couldn’t say, but don’t be surprised if he comes back asking to talk with you.”

“Me?” Eleanor echoed. “What would some-one from the DEA want from me?”

Suddenly aware of a pounding headache, Joanna pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “Listen to me, Mother. Do you remember telling me about a doctor, one who went into Andy’s room just before he died?”

“There were so many,” Eleanor responded dubiously.

Joanna shook her head. “No, you mentioned one in particular, one who came through the waiting room and told you everything was fine just minutes before the alarms went off.”

“Oh, him,” Eleanor breathed.

“Yes, him. What did he look like?”

“Margaret and I were watching television. I’m not sure I remember.”

“Try,” Joanna urged. “Did he introduce himself? Was he wearing a name tag?”

“How do you expect me to come up with those kinds of details? After all, I only saw him for a minute or so.”

“It’s very important,” Joanna said with dogged patience. “Can you tell me anything at all about him-what he looked like, what he was wearing? How did you know he was a doctor?

Eleanor closed her eyes as if trying to picture the man. “He had on one of those long white coats, the kind all those doctors wear.”

“And a stethoscope? Did he have one of those?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Eleanor shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

“What did he look like?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna! I already told you. I only saw the man for a minute. What does it matter?

“It matters a great deal, Mother,” Joanna insisted firmly. “Try to tell me what he looked like. I’ve got to know.”

“All right. He wasn’t very tall, and a little on the heavyset side. He looked like a Mexican to me. Dark hair, wavy dark hair.”

“Glasses?”

“No, but brown eyes. Definitely brown eyes.”

“Anything else?”

“Lots of gold in his teeth. You know, gold crowns. You don’t often see that kind of dental work in a man that young.”

“How young?”

“Forty, maybe even forty-five. It’s hard to judge men’s ages. I don’t understand what’s going on. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“Mother,” Joanna said, “there’s a good chance that man wasn’t a doctor at all, that he was just pretending to be one to gain access to Andy’s room. He may have gone in there and given Andy something.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Like poison or something? You’re not saying that he killed Andy, are you? You mean I was actually carrying on a conversation with a murderer?”

“All I’m saying is if someone from the Tucson Police Department calls and asks you about this, tell them exactly what you told me.”

“Oh, I will. I certainly will.” Suddenly Eleanor stood up and started toward the door, moving with a whole new vigor and sense of purpose.

“And, Mother,” Joanna added, before Eleanor made it all the way out of the room. “It might be better if you didn’t talk to anyone eIse about this, unless it’s someone in an official capacity.”

“Of course not,” Eleanor agreed emphatically. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Joanna shook her head as she watched her other walk away. Cautioning Eleanor Lathrop not to gossip was almost as good as tell-g her not to breathe.

With her mother gone, Joanna quickly finished clearing off the top surface of her desk, then she stood up and went to Milo ’s door. Apparently lost in thought, he sat with his back to his desk, staring out the window. At sixty- three, Milo Davis was completely bald. Only the very top of his perpetually sun-burned head was visible over the top of his executive chair.

Joanna announced herself by tapping lightly on the door frame, then she stepped over the threshold into his office, pulling the door shut behind her. When he swiveled around to face her, Milo Davis’s usually engaging grin was missing.

“Hello, Joanna,” he said somberly. “Sit down.”

She eased herself into one of the two client chairs in front of his desk. “Please don’t say you didn’t expect to see me today,” Joanna began. “Three people have already given me that same line. I just stopped by long enough to complete those three underwriting memos.”

Milo nodded. “Thanks for taking care of them. You’re absolutely right. They shouldn’t have been left hanging for a whole week. Chances are I wouldn’t have remembered them, either. I’m so used to you taking care of those kinds of details that I just don’t think about them anymore.”

For a moment he examined her face. “How are you doing, really?” he asked.

“Really?” Joanna shrugged uncomfortably and bit her lower lip. “Okay, I guess. It’s all so sudden.”

Milo nodded. “It’s going to be hard as hell, Joanna,” he said kindly. “And it’s going to take time. This is a terrible tragedy, not just for you and Jenny, but for the whole town. Feelings are running high. Don’t be surprised

Вы читаете Desert Heat
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату