“Tucson.”
“Did he say what this was about?”
“No,” Tica replied. “Just that it was important, and he wanted to speak directly to someone in authority.”
“I guess that’s me, then,” Joanna said. “Patch him through.”
Moments later a male voice came through the phone. “Hello? Sheriff Brady?” he said.
“Yes,” Joanna said. “This is Sheriff Brady.”
“Sorry,” he said uncertainly. “I thought I was still talking to the nine-one-one operator. I didn’t expect the sheriff to be a woman.”
Joanna laughed. “You and a lot of other people, but I really am the sheriff. What’s your name again?”
“Quick. Jay Quick. I live in Tucson.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Quick?”
“I just heard a report on the radio about a homicide down in your neck of the woods. The report said the dead woman’s name was Sandra Ridder and that she had recently been released from prison. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Joanna replied. “That’s correct.”
“And is that the same Sandra Ridder who went to prison several years ago for shooting her husband up here in Tucson?”
“That’s also correct, Mr. Quick, but why are you asking? Do you know something about this case?”
He hesitated before he answered. “The report also said that Sandra Ridder’s daughter has disappeared and that she’s a person of interest in her mother’s death. Is that true as well?”
Joanna found herself sitting up straighter in the booth. Her grip on the telephone tightened, as though, by holding the device more firmly in her fist, she could somehow force Jay Quick to get to the point and tell her why he had called.
“Yes,” she said smoothly, trying to keep from betraying her rising excitement. “Lucinda Ridder-Sandra Ridder’s fifteen-year-old daughter-has been missing since the night her mother was killed. She is a person of interest in that case. She’s not a viable suspect at this time, although in the course of our investigation, she may turn into one.”
Now it was Joanna’s turn to pause. She waited for Jay Quick to say something. When he did not, she continued. “Why are you asking these questions, Mr. Quick? Do you know something about the missing girl-something that would help us locate her?”
“Lucinda Ridder called my house at three o’clock last Saturday morning. She was looking for my mother. I wondered about it, but I didn’t think anything more about it until a few minutes ago, when I heard about Sandra Ridder on the news.”
“You say Lucy was calling your mother?”
“Yes. Evelyn Quick, my mother. Years ago she used to be Lucinda Ridder’s ballet teacher at the Lohse Family YMCA here in downtown Tucson. Lucy sounded very upset on the phone, and what I had to say didn’t help. My mother’s dead, you see. She died two-almost three-years ago. When I told Lucy that, she just started sobbing. It broke my heart. I asked her what was wrong and was there anything I could do to help, but she said no, no one could help her now. Do you think it’s possible that she killed her own mother, Sheriff Brady? She sounded desperate on the phone. The poor girl’s been through so much trauma for someone her age. I wonder if she didn’t just snap.”
“Did you ask where she was? Get a phone number?”
“I asked, but she wouldn’t tell me. I could hear what sounded like trucks in the background, though. My guess is she was using a pay phone at a truck stop.”
“Whereabouts are you, Mr. Quick?”
“At my office. Quick Custom Metals out on Romero Road in Tucson.”
“Give me your phone number. And your home phone number as well. I’ll try contacting my detectives. If one of them can’t meet with you this afternoon, I will.”
As Joanna hung up the phone, Butch was looking at his watch. “And where exactly is this Mr. Quick?” he asked.
“In Tucson, on Romero Road.”
“And you’re thinking of going up there, seeing him, and still being back in time for dinner at your mother’s?”
“I’m sure I can make it if I have to.”
Butch sighed and shook his head. “Good luck,” he said. “But I’m not holding my breath.”
CHAPTER 13
It was shortly after noon when Joanna left the restaurant. Her cell phone rang the moment she closed the car door. “I just got lucky,” Frank Montoya said.
“Lucky,” Joanna echoed. “Why, Frank, I didn’t know you were even dating.”
“Not that kind of lucky,” he replied wryly. “I got to the Board of Supervisors meeting and found out it was canceled. They had their annual retreat over the weekend at a guest ranch up in the Chiricahuas. This morning the whole bunch of ”em is sicker “n dogs.”
“What was it?” Joanna asked. “Food poisoning?”
“I guess. That’s what it sounds like. So since I happen to have all this unscheduled free time on my hands this afternoon, I was wondering if there was anything in particular you needed me to do.”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Joanna said. “Hold on a minute. Let me give you a phone number.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the notebook in which she had jotted Jay Quick’s number. Once she found it, she read it off to Frank.
“Who’s this?” he asked.
“It’s a telephone number Lucy Ridder called Saturday morning at three a.m. The man’s name is Jay Quick. Years ago, Mr. Quick’s mother, Evelyn, was Lucy Ridder’s ballet teacher at the Lohse Family YMCA in Tucson. Not knowing that Evelyn Quick died some time back, Lucy called the son’s house trying to reach her.”
“That’s a relief then,” Frank breathed. “We may not know where Lucy Ridder is, but at least she’s still alive.”
“She was early Saturday morning,” Joanna returned. “Naturally she didn’t leave a number where she could be reached, but Mr. Quick told me he heard what sounded like eighteen-wheelers rumbling in the background. He thought maybe she was calling from a truck stop.”
“Want me to find out where the call came from?” Frank asked.
Joanna laughed. “How did you guess? Out of my whole department, you’re the best-suited to ferreting information out of faceless corporate entities and balky bureaucrats. Go get ”em, Frank.“
“Was that a compliment or not?” he demanded.
“That’s how it was intended.”
“All right, then. Let me off the phone so I can see if I can live up to it.”
Once Frank hung up, Joanna radioed into the department and asked to be patched through to either Ernie Carpenter or Jaime Carbajal. Since Jaime Carbajal was planning to go to Tucson that afternoon, she hoped he could also stop by and see Jay Quick.
“Where are you?” she asked, when the detective’s voice came over the speaker.
“Between Elfrida and Douglas. We’re on our way to a place east of Douglas, where a border-patrol officer reported spotting an abandoned white Lexus parked along the border fence.”
“Melanie Goodson’s missing Lexus?”
“According to license information, it’s the very one. The officer saw what he believes to be bloodstains in the backseat. I’ve called up and canceled my appointment with Melanie Goodson. Ernie and I talked it over and decided that right this minute it’s more important for us to check out the vehicle than it is to go running up to Tucson to interview secondary witnesses.”
“That’s probably a good call,” Joanna agreed. “Are you going to try to change the appointment to later this afternoon?”
