“Right,” Fran said. “And since he and Tom Hemming are working like hell to extradite those three kids from Mexico, Hank’s not going to be ecstatic when you show up with an-other suspect altogether, along with a whole new theory about what went on.”
“Tough,” Joanna said. “He’ll have to learn to live with it.”
Finishing that phone call left Joanna energized and ready to take on the world. She drove into the office and went straight to work. By the time Kristin Marsten and Frank Montoya showed up at eight o’clock, Joanna had already mowed through most of the previous day’s correspondence and was starting to return the congratulatory phone calls.
Frank Montoya stuck his head in the door. “Is it safe?” he asked. “Word is out that Her Majesty-meaning you-is lopping off heads right and left.”
“Dick Voland quit; I didn’t fire him,” Joanna said. “And I gave Kristin a clear choice of either shaping up or shipping out. In other words, I don’t think you’re in any danger of having your head lopped off. Come on in.”
“Won’t it be boring having our morning briefing without Voland here sniping at us?” Frank asked. “A little like coffee with no cream?”
Joanna gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage. First off, you need to know that I’m engaged to Butch Dixon, and here’s the ring to prove it.” She waved her hand and flashed the diamond past Frank’s face. “That’s all I’m saying about it,” she continued. “If you receive any questions from the media regarding my engagement, I will expect you to deliver a very firm ‘No comment.’ Is that clear?”
“Very.”
“I’ve been on the phone to Fran Daly this morning. She’s tracking the insulin vial that was found on Alice Rogers’ corpse. That trail may lead us straight back to Clete Rogers. Do you happen to know whether or not he’s diabetic?”
Frank shook his head. “Nobody’s ever talked about specifics, but I do know he’s had some long-term health difficulties. I remember Nancy, the hostess at the Grubsteak, making some allusion to it. It probably wouldn’t be all that hard to find out. If nothing else, I can ask her.”
“Do it,” Joanna said. “Also, is there a chance Clete Rogers fingerprints are on file anywhere?”
“I doubt it. As far as I know, he’s never been involved it anything that requires prints. He runs a restaurant, Joanna. I isn’t like he’s a securities dealer or something.”
“Would it be possible for you to get his prints?” Joanna asked. “Casually, of course. I’d want you to do it in a way that wouldn’t necessarily arouse suspicion. Maybe you could have him sign some phony-baloney form and then bring the pen back to Casey down in AFIS.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Frank said. “How soon do you want it?”
“ASAP.”
“It figures. I’ll handle it.” Frank paused. “What about Karen Brainard? I understand she resigned from the board of supervisors as of yesterday morning. What, if anything, are we doing about her?”
“I’ve assigned Ernie Carpenter to the Mark Childers/Lewis Flores cases,” Joanna said. “I told Ernie that if he finds any evidence of wrongdoing on her part, we should go after her for it.”
Frank raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ernie Carpenter investigating white-collar crime? That’s a long way from his usual area of expertise, isn’t it?”
“Not that far,” Joanna replied. “After all, two men are dead as a direct result of what was happening at Oak Vista. If there were bribes or payoffs involved in that mess, Ernie’s going to find them.”
“Fair enough,” Frank agreed. “Now, tell me. With Dick gone, have you given any thought as to who should be your next Chief Deputy for Operations?”
“As a matter of fact I have,” Joanna said. “You’re it.”
“Really?” Frank Montoya beamed. “Thanks, but who’s going to be in charge of Administration, then?”
“You again,” Joanna answered. “I’ve decided that from now on, I’m only going to have one chief deputy, and you’re it. That means you’d better find someone to take over the Tombstone marshal job, because I’m not going Io he able to spare you. Any ideas?”
“Not right off the bat,” Frank said. “I’ll have to think about it. I’m sure I’ll conic up with someone. Anything else?”
“Yes. I want you to get on the phone with authorities in western South Dakota. Check out all the jurisdictions within spitting distance of Mount Rushmore to see if they have a reported missing person whose first name is Junior.”
Montoya beamed again. “So my suggestion did work then. I haven’t had a chance to see the article yet, but if you’ve already got results this fast, Marliss must have written a dandy.”
“Marliss Shackleford had absolutely nothing to do with it,” Joanna replied. “If this pans out, we owe it all to Daisy Maxwell.”
“Daisy, over at the cafe?” Frank marveled. “I had no idea she was a writer.”
“She isn’t,” Joanna answered. “She’s just a woman with a whole lot of common sense, which is far more than I can say for Marliss Shackleford. Now then, what about that phone call from the fictitious Detective Garfield?”
“The call came from a pay phone located in North Las Vegas. That’s all I’ve been able to come up with so far.”
“And what about the rogue cops, the ones who went to prison?” Joanna asked. “Do we have any idea where they’re incarcerated?”
“Not so far, but I’ll check it out. Anything else?”
“Yes. What about yesterday’s incident reports? Do you have them?”
“No. I didn’t know I was supposed to have them. No one gave them to me.”
“That figures. I want you to make an official announcement about the change in personnel. We’ll need to issue a statement to the media saying that Dick Voland has resigned for personal reasons and announcing that from now on the department will have only one chief deputy. We’ll also need to let people inside the department know that those incident reports are to be routed to you from now on. Once you have them in hand and have a chance to go over them, come back and we’ll finish up.”
Frank had been making notes all along. Now he stopped. “What’s the real story behind Dick’s leaving?” he asked. “One minute the man is his usual charming self, throwing his weight around and giving people all kinds of grief. The next minute his office is empty and he’s out of here. What’s going on?”
Joanna had planned to keep her personal problems with Dick Voland strictly to herself, but Frank Montoya deserved a straight answer. “This is for your information only,” Joanna said, “and it’s not to leave this room. But it seems Dick Voland had some mistaken ideas about the relationship between us, some seriously mistaken ideas.”
“You’re kidding! As in romantic ideas?”
“That’s right.”
“What made him think that?” Frank asked. “He’s got to be a good fifteen years older than you are. In fact, I’m a lot closer to your age than he is.”
“Don’t
Frank Montoya jumped out of his chair. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning back. “Forget I even mentioned it. I’m sure Dick has plenty of time in grade, so he can afford to retire. Not me. I’m too young.”
“Get out of here then,” Joanna told him. “I’ve got work to do, and so do you.”
Seconds after Frank returned to the lobby, Kristin entered Joanna’s office. She slapped a pile of mail down on the edge of Joanna’s desk. Next to the stack of mail she placed a cup of coffee.
Joanna looked up at Kristin. “Does that constitute a peace offering?” Joanna asked.
Without looking her boss in the eye, Kristin shrugged. “I guess,” she said.
“Does that mean you’ve decided you want to keep working here-that you want to continue being my secretary?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then,” Joanna said. “I’m glad to hear it, and thanks for the coffee.”
