Just as Joanna was signing off, the door to the student lounge popped open, and Leann Jessup walked inside carrying a video. “There you are,” she said. “There wasn’t any answer in your room, but your Blazer was still in the parking lot so I figured I’d find you here somewhere. My morn just dropped off her tape of the news from last night. She says we’re both on it. She dropped it by in hopes your family could get a look at it over the weekend because she’d really like to have it back in time to take it to work next week.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Joanna said. “We’re booked into the Hohokam on a special holiday package that offers kids under sixteen the use of two free videos a day during their stay. That must mean there are VCRs available. If push come to shove, we could always come back here and ask Dave Thompson to let us use the one in his classroom.”
“Fat chance of that.” Leann laughed. She sobered a moment later. “How soon does your company show up?” she asked.
“Not until eight or later. They can’t even leave Bisbee until after Jenny gets out of school. It’s a four-hour drive.”
“How about some lunch, then?” Leann suggested. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I, now that you mention it,” Joanna said. “What do you want to eat?”
“I wish I knew somewhere around here to get a decent hamburger,” Leann moaned.
Joanna laughed. “Boy, do I have a deal for you,” she said. “Come with me.”
By then Joanna wasn’t particularly worried about going back to the Roundhouse Bar and Grill with Leann Jessup in tow. Of all the people Joanna knew, Leann was the one most likely to be sympathetic and understanding of Joanna’s more than passing interest in a case that was, on the face of it, none of her business. Besides, what were the odds that they would actually encounter Butch Dixon? Since he was evidently the nighttime bartender, he
probably wouldn’t be anywhere near his nighttime place of employment at one o’clock in the afternoon.
At least that was Joanna’s line of reasoning as she and Leann Jessup walked out to the Blazer and then drove north to Old Peoria. She was wrong, of course. Butch Dixon was the first person she saw once her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the darkened room. He was hunkered over the bar, eating a sandwich. A yellow legal pad with a pen on top of it lay beside an almost empty plate.
“Why if it isn’t the sheriff of Cochise, star of
“You saw us?” Leann asked.
“That’s right. So what will Madam Sheriff have today, the regular?”
Joanna smiled as she sat down next to him. “You make me sound like a real barfly.”
“Aren’t you?” he returned. “Is your friend here a heavy drinker, same as you?”
Leann glanced questioningly in Joanna’s direction. “Not at one o’clock in the afternoon,” she protested. “I’ll have a Coke.”
“Pepsi’s all we have. Diet or regular?”
“Diet.”
“Hey, Phil,” Butch Dixon called to a bartender who was only then emerging from the door that evidently led to the kitchen. “How about bringing a pair of Diet Pepsis for the ladies.” He focused once more on Joanna. “You looked fine on the tube but I think you’re a lot better looking in person,’
She laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said.
