departmental issue. For now, it was Dick Voland’s problem. Eventually, it would be Joanna’s….
WHEN SHE left the justice complex, Joanna drove straight to the new county administration offices on Melody Lane. Her arrival there was much different from that at the Sheriff’s Department.
Without an officially scheduled appointment, Norbert DeLeon himself hurried out from his inner office as soon as his secretary announced Joanna’s name over the intercom. A warm, cordial smile beamed across Nor bert’s face as he held out his hand in welcome. “I believe congratulations are in order,” he said ushering Joanna into his office. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve had enough caffeine already this morning.”
“What can I do for you then?” he asked, easing himself down behind his desk-a light oak-veneer affair that didn’t come close in quality to the genuine cherrywood desk that graced Sheriff McFadden’s former office.
“I came to ask you to either verify or squelch a rumor I’ve heard.” A concerned frown creased Norbert’s face. “We’ve had lots of rumors around here in the last few months. I hope it’s nothing bad.”
“Someone mentioned last night that since the position of sheriff is vacant, the board of Supervisors was considering filling that office as soon after the election as possible.”
“Oh, that,” Norbert DeLeon said, dismissively. “Well, there had been some talk, but now that the election is over, no one wants to push you too hard. We’re all well aware of what you’ve been through these past few months. The final consensus was that we should give you a chance to rest up, give you a bit of a breather before you take on your new duties in January.”
“In other words, if Al Freeman or Frank Montoya had won the election, the board would have gone ahead and sworn in either one of them right away. But since I won, they won’t?”
DeLeon nodded. “I guess that’s about right.”
“Does that seem discriminatory to you?”
The county manager looked shocked. “Well,” he faltered, “I suppose it could be interpreted that way, but believe me, no one meant any harm. They were all looking out for you. I mean, you’ve had such a difficult time with Andy’s death and all….”
“Norbert,” Joanna interrupted firmly. “The supervisors may have my best interests at heart, but I doubt that decision is necessarily beneficial to the people of Cochise County.”
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“I was elected sheriff to solve the problems that currently exist in the Sheriff’s Department. That’s exactly what I intend to do, and I’d like to get started as soon as possible.”
DeLeon steepled his fingers under his chin and regarded her appraisingly. “When would you like to go to work?”
“The sooner, the better.”
“I see. Today?”
“Suits me.”
“But what about Milo Davis? You’ve worked for him a long time. Won’t you have to give him some kind of notice?”
“Milo’s already been working on a contingency plan,” Joanna replied. “Believe me, that won’t be a problem.”
“All right then,” Norbert said, nodding and reaching at once for his telephone. “Hold on here a minute, Joanna. I’ll make a few calls and see what I can do.”
As a result of those phone calls, Joanna Lee Lathrop Brady was sworn into office as the first female sheriff of Cochise County at two o’clock that afternoon: Wednesday, November 7, one day after her election.
The hastily organized ceremony was held in the chambers of Superior Court Judge Cameron Moore, with Jennifer Ann Brady holding her mother’s worn Bible.
Joanna, dressed in a well worn navy-blue blazer, was surprised to see tears in her mother’s eyes as Eleanor pinned Hank Lathrop’s old but newly polished badge over Joanna’s left breast pocket.
Eleanor was disappointed that no Tucson television stations or newspapers sent reporters to Bisbee to cover the event. Joanna didn’t mind at all. By then the purplish bruise under her eye had turned a full-fledged black.
After the swearing-in, the whole crew-minus Judge Moore trooped down to the Davis Insurance Agency in Warren to celebrate. There they sipped champagne and devoured a special, hastily decorated-to-order cake topped with an artfully designed chocolate-frosting sheriff’s badge.
A beaming Milo Davis proposed the first toast.
“All I can say is,” he said, raising his glass, “I sure know how to pick a winner.”
Joanna gazed around the crowded rooms. Winning was fine, but the prospect of leaving the homey office saddened her somehow. This was a place where she had grown to adulthood, advanced from a giddy high school part-timer to a responsible and self-assured businesswoman. With Milo’s help and support, she had worked for him all the while she commuted the hundred miles back and forth to the university in Tucson to earn her B.A.
The happy crew of supporters, jammed together wall-to-wall, consisted of both family and friends-Eleanor Lathrop and Jenny, Marianne Macula and Jeff Daniels, Eva Lou and Jim Bob Brady, Angie Kellogg, Milo Davis, and Lisa Connors. Despite her overnight stay in the hospital, Marianne seemed none the worse for wear. Unlike Joanna, she wasn’t sporting a black eye.
Acting as unofficial master of ceremonies, Milo went around the room asking for comments. He even cajoled Eleanor Lathrop into letting down her hair far enough to drink a second half-glass of champagne. Jenny, sitting cross-legged a little apart from the others and sipping sparkling cider in a champagne flute, was the last person Milo called on to speak. “What about you, Jenny?” he asked. “Care to propose a toast?”
Struck suddenly shy, Jennifer rose to her feet and raised her glass the way she had seen the others do. “Even if
