“I am.”
“Well, order some then. I want pencils.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I want you to have whoever is in charge of Motor Pool to make arrangements for me to have a vehicle, one with a radio.”
“What else?”
Joanna studied the young receptionist. Twenty two or twenty-three at the most, Kristin Marsten bristled with ill-disguised hostility. Up to a point, Joanna understood that. It was a necessary part of the way politics worked. When someone new won an election and took over the helm of an elected office there was always a period of adjustment with the staff, a time when, although loyalties were shifting, the work still had to be done.
“Have you ever worked for a woman before?” Joanna asked.
Startled, Kristin lowered her eyes and shifted on her feet. “Not really. Why?”
“I was just wondering,” Joanna said. “You enjoyed working for Mr. Voland, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Kristin said. “Very much.”
“Let me ask you a question. When he was in this office, did you ever bring him coffee?”
“Yes. Sometimes. He likes his black.”
“And Ernie Carpenter?”
“He takes his black, too.”
“I see,” Joanna said, leaning back in the chair.
“That makes three of us. All black. We’ll just continue the tradition then, if you don’t mind. And since the three of us have already had a very long morning, why don’t you bring in three cups of black coffee as soon as Ernie and Dick get here.”
Kristin started toward the door. “Is that all?”
“One more question. Why exactly did you come to work here?”
Kristin shrugged. “It was a job, I guess. But I kinda thought it would be interesting, being in law enforcement.”
“And is it?”
“Have you ever thought about doing anything more around here rather than just working as a receptionist? Have you thought about maybe being a deputy or doing something in Dispatch? Something responsible that would give you a chance at better pay?”
Kristin shook her mane of hair. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I mean, being a dispatcher is really serious stuff. Nobody ever takes me seriously. I’m not really an airhead, but you know all those blonde jokes, and I…”
“It’s difficult for men to take you seriously when they’re spending all their time trying to look down your blouse or up your skirt,” Joanna returned. “By the way, that’s a very nice set of underwear you have on today. I particularly like that shade of turquoise, especially for a bra and matching panties. I’m sure the guys around here like them, too. I’ve noticed several of them looking. It’s possible, though, if you want the men to take you seriously, that a longer skirt would help.”
Shocked, Kristin opened her mouth, but no words came out. Blushing furiously, she spun around and nearly ran over Dick Voland in her rush to escape Joanna’s office and her steady, appraising gaze.
“What’s the matter with Kristin?” Dick asked, as he shambled in and sank down into one of the side chairs.
“I believe it’s called culture shock,” Joanna replied. “Where’s Ernie?”
“He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Thanks for having the office ready for me to move into, Dick,” Joanna said. “That was thoughtful of you. I don’t know when you had time.”
The chief deputy shrugged grudgingly. “No big thing,” he said. Although Joanna knew it was.
Ernie appeared moments later. The man may have spent the entire morning grubbing around at a crime scene in a pair of much-used sweats and tennies, but by the time he appeared in Joanna’s office, he was wearing a well- pressed suit, a tie, and a stiffly starched white shirt, to say nothing of highly polished wing tips. Looking at him, Joanna was glad she’d taken the time to go home and clean up.
“What’s going on?” he asked irritably. “I’m busy as hell.”
“I’m sure you are, but we’ve got a press conference coming up in a few minutes,” Joanna told him.
“Since when?”
“Since I called it. This is a big case, and we’re going to handle it in a way that won’t have the press tearing us apart. Dick will be running the show, but I want a united front on what he says and what he doesn’t.”
Kristin walked in right then, bringing the three cups of coffee. Wordlessly, she delivered Joanna’s cup to the desk. When she turned back to the two men, she paused for a moment in front of the coffee table, struggling to find a way to deposit the cups on the low surface of the table without having to bend over to do it. She finally solved the problem by passing the cups directly to their hands.
“So where do we stand?” Joanna asked, once Kristin left the room.
“Two stiffs for the price of one,” Ernie Carpenter replied. “I’ve got Harold Patterson’s body pulled up to the surface. The coroner has taken charge of him, and we’ve packed out most of the skeleton in a body bag. The sump pump is doing the job, but it’s still too wet down there to finish searching the bottom of the glory hole.”
