bathroom. Joanna retrieved both her nightgown and bathrobe from the closet and then went in search of Jenny. She found her daughter curled up on the couch in the living room reading a book. Tigger, snoring like a locomotive, lay with his head in Jenny’s lap, while Sadie sprawled on the floor at Jenny’s feet.
Joanna could tell from the faded blue cover that the book was one of her old Nancy Drew mysteries. “What are you reading?” she asked, easing herself down on the couch in a way that didn’t disturb either one of the sleeping dogs.
Joanna shook her head. “You were born sixty or seventy years too late for a roadster,” she said. “You’ll probably have to make do with my old Eagle-if it’s still running.”
“But that’s a station wagon,” Jenny protested. “I want a convertible-a red convertible.”
Joanna sighed. “Don’t we all. Seriously, though, Jenny, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Mr. Rhodes is dead, isn’t he?” Jenny said at once.
Joanna simply nodded. “How did you know?” she asked.
Jenny shrugged. “I sort of figured it out. I mean, I followed the clues, just like Nancy Drew.”
“What clues are those?”
“Well, you went over to see him and didn’t come back for a long time. And then this morning. When I get up to watch Saturday-morning cartoons, Mr. Rhodes is usually already here, but today he wasn’t. I went outside and looked for his tire tracks, but there weren’t any. So I went ahead and fed the animals myself.”
“All of them?” Joanna asked.
“You didn’t think I’d let them go hungry, do you?” Jenny asked indignantly.
Joanna laughed. “No,” she agreed. “Of course not.”
“And after I fed them I made coffee for you.”
Joanna was stunned. It wasn’t that Jenny didn’t know how to feed the animals or how much to give them. On Clayton Rhodes’ days off, Joanna and Jenny usually did the chores together. Still, she was struck by the fact that Jenny had done the chores all by herself and also on her own initiative. Butch was right, Joanna realized then. Jenny was growing up-in more ways than one.
“So what happened to him?” Jenny asked. “To Mr. Rhodes.”
“He probably had a heart attack or else maybe a stroke,” Joanna replied. “At least that’s what Grandpa George thinks.”
“Grandpa George will have to do an autopsy, won’t he-to find out for sure?”
Jenny had lived all her life in a law enforcement household where the pieces of homicide investigations were regular components in ordinary, everyday conversations. “Yes, he will,” Joanna replied.
Jenny rolled her enormous blue eyes. “Well,” she observed, “Mr. Rhodes wouldn’t like that.”
“What do you mean?” Joanna asked.
“Grandpa George is nice and all that, but he’s still a doctor,” Jenny said. “Mr. Rhodes told me once, after he hurt his leg last year, that he never wanted to go see a doctor again. But I guess if he’s already dead, it won’t matter.”
Joanna was a little taken aback by Jenny’s unemotional, almost clinical response to news of Clayton Rhodes’ death. After all, the man had been an important part of their daily lives. As Jenny’s mother, Joanna would have preferred some show of sadness and even a few tears.
“Clayton Rhodes was a nice man,” Joanna said. “I’m sorry he’s dead. Aren’t you?”
Jenny shook her head. “I’m not,” she declared. “Mr. Rhodes told me once that he was old and ready to go anytime the good Lord was ready to take him. He said he missed his wife and could hardly wait to see her again.”
Joanna felt as if she had been left standing in the dust. “Just when did you and he have this long conversation?” she asked.
Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “It was one time when we were out in the barn and he was cleaning Kiddo’s stall. He told me he wished he had a granddaughter just like me. He said he had grandsons, but that he didn’t like them much. He said they were spoiled rotten. I told him I liked him, too. And I did. But now he’s in heaven with Molly and his little boy-”
“Molly and Clayton had a son?” Joanna asked. “I didn’t know that. When?”
“Oh, a long time ago,” Jenny answered. “During the war. At least I think that’s what he said. That the little boy was born and died while he was away at war and he never even got to see him.”
Joanna was nothing short of amazed to discover that Jenny had known so much about Clayton Rhodes’ life. Somehow Jenny had managed to glean details that Joanna herself had never suspected while the old man was still alive.
“When is the funeral?” Jenny asked. “Will we have to go?” The child’s blue eyes darkened as she asked the second question.
“I don’t know when it’ll be,” Joanna answered. “As of right now, I don’t even know for sure if his daughter has been notified. But whenever it is, we should probably go, don’t you think?”
Jenny nodded. “I guess,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t like funerals, but that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”
Joanna reached over and gave her daughter a hug. “That’s right,” she said. “That is what friends are for.”
Just then Butch emerged from the bathroom. “It’s all yours,” he said to Joanna. Then he paused, glancing first in Jenny’s direction and then in Joanna’s. “This looks like a pretty serious discussion. Should I make myself scarce?”
“No, it’s fine. Jenny and I were just talking about Clayton Rhodes’ funeral,” Joanna told him. “Jenny thinks we should go, and I agree.”
Butch nodded. Then he added, “Speaking of Clayton, I’ll head outside and get started feeding the animals.”
“Don’t bother,” Joanna said. “Jenny’s already done it.”
Butch looked at Jenny. “You did?” Jenny nodded, beaming with pride. “Good for you,” Butch added.
Joanna hurried to the bathroom to take her turn. She was just finishing applying makeup when Jenny knocked on the door. “Phone, Mom.”
“Who is it?” Joanna asked as Jenny handed her the cordless phone.
Jenny shrugged. “Somebody from work,” she said.
“Hello,” Joanna said. “Sheriff Brady here.”
“Hi, Sheriff. It’s Lisa.”
Lisa Howard was the weekend desk clerk at the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department. Joanna’s heart sank. If there was some new emergency at the department, Joanna’s planned day-trip outing with Jenny and Butch might have to be canceled or postponed.
“What’s the matter?” Joanna asked.
“Nothing. We’ve got a reported runaway out in the valley, but that’s about it. There was a message that came in for you overnight. Since it didn’t seem especially urgent, the night shift decided to let me pass it along to you when I came on duty this morning.”
“What is it?” Joanna asked. “And who’s it from?”
“Sergeant Carlin.”
“In Los Gatos,” Joanna supplied.
“Right. He wanted you to know that Mrs. Singleton has been notified.”
“Good,” Joanna said. “Anything else?”
“He did say one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He said, ”Good luck.“ ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joanna asked.
“I don’t know,” Lisa returned. “I thought maybe you’d understand what he meant.”
“Well, I don’t. But that’s all right. The point is, Clayton Rhodes’ family members have now been officially notified; you can release the news of his death to the press. And you should probably pass that word along to the medical examiner’s office as well in case anyone comes asking Doc Winfield for information.”
