of Supervisors, his initial position had been that of county coroner. Now, though, he held the recently created title of Cochise County Medical Examiner. Due to his equally recent marriage to Joanna’s mother, Eleanor, he was also Joanna Brady’s stepfather.
She looked up at him and gave him a wan smile. “Not so hot,” she answered. “Why’d Clayton go and do that, George? Why did he have to commit suicide?”
“Who said anything about suicide?”
“Well, I thought…”
“You thought he locked himself in that garage with the engine running on purpose?”
“Didn’t he?”
“Deputy Howell,” George called out. “Mind bringing that bag of evidence over here?”
Debbie Howell came toward them carrying a clear plastic bag. Inside it were several glassine envelopes. George held it up to the light and pointed to a rectangular black-and-white object inside. “What does that look like?” he asked.
“A garage-door opener?”
“Right you are. And guess where I found it?”
“I don’t know.”
“In Clayton Rhodes’ shirt pocket-pressed tight up against the steering wheel. My guess is the garage door was open when he turned on the engine. But then something happened-a heart attack maybe, or possibly even a stroke. We won’t know exactly what until the autopsy. Whatever it was, he slumped forward onto the steering wheel. When that happened, the weight of his body pressed against the button, shutting the door.”
“You’re saying he didn’t commit suicide after all?” Joanna asked wonderingly.
“Are you kidding?” George Winfield returned. “To do that, the place would have had to be airtight. And it’s not. Definitely not. If there wasn’t plenty of air, the engine wouldn’t have been running when you got here. In an airtight garage the engine would have quit long ago due to lack of oxygen.”
“So you’re saying he most likely died of natural causes?” Joanna asked.
“Or smoke inhalation. That could be the culprit as well. In any event, for right now I don’t believe Clayton Rhodes took his own life. You didn’t find a note or anything to indicate otherwise, did you?”
“No.”
“Well, he wasn’t bright red, either, which pretty well rules out carbon monoxide, but as soon as I have autopsy results, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, what about notifying next of kin?”
Joanna glanced at her watch. To her surprise she realized two hours had passed since her call to the Los Gatos Police Department. What wasn’t the least bit surprising was that Sergeant Carlin hadn’t bothered to call her back.
“I found Clayton’s daughter’s address and telephone number. Reba Singleton lives in Los Gatos, California,” Joanna replied. “Someone from the local police department there is supposed to notify her and report back to me once the notification has been made.”
“Good. Glad that’s being handled.”
“What next, Sheriff Brady?” Debbie Howell asked. “You calling in the homicide guys?”
Joanna considered for a moment. From what George Winfield was saying, a full-scale homicide investigation might not be necessary, which meant that neither would an overtime visit from one or both of her two homicide detectives.
“If we need detectives, they can look things over in the morning. Meanwhile, you and Deputy Pakin do what you can to secure the scene,” she answered. “You’ve got the house keys?”
Debbie Howell nodded. “Right here in the bag.”
“Let’s close up for tonight,” Joanna directed. “Take the tarp from your vehicle and cover the hole I made in the door. Then put up crime-scene tape around both the barn and garage. I’ll take care of locking up the house.”
“Will do,” Debbie said.
As Deputy Howell walked away, George Winfield peered questioningly at Joanna through the top of his bifocals. “How are you doing personally, Joanna?” he asked solicitously. “I know the man was a good friend of yours.”
The likelihood that Clayton Rhodes hadn’t committed suicide should have made Joanna feel better, but it didn’t.
She shook her head. “I’ve been sitting here all torn up that Clayton had the unmitigated nerve to go and die without giving me any advance notice. Like he should have been thoughtful enough to pick up the phone and say, ”By the way, Joanna, I think I’m going to cork off now, so maybe you’d better make other arrangements to feed your own goddamned animals for a change.“ ”
“Sounds to me like you’re blaming yourself,” George observed.
“Maybe I am,” Joanna replied. “And why shouldn’t I? If I’d been smart enough or observant enough to notice that the dogs’ water dishes were empty this morning when Jenny and I left the house, maybe I would have realized something was wrong and come over to check on Clayton early enough to make a difference. If I had done that, maybe he’d still be alive.”
George shook his head. “I doubt it,” he replied. “I don’t think your getting here sooner would have made any difference at all. The way it looks to me, once he slumped over onto the steering wheel, I doubt he even twitched. We’re dealing with something catastrophic here, Joanna. It’s the kind of thing from which there would have been no recovery, other than life in some kind of vegetative state. And from the stories I’ve heard about Clayton Rhodes- about the kind of man he was and the active life he led-that would have been a nightmare. He wouldn’t have wanted to end up that way, not at all.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Joanna agreed with a sigh. “He would have hated being helpless. That would have been hell for him.”
George reached over and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “So, there you are then, Joanna. Let it go.”
“I’ll try.”
George stood up and rubbed his hands together. “Back home in Minneapolis, this would have been considered balmy weather for late March. People would have been ready to haul out their shorts. But I have to admit, it feels chilly tonight, even to me.”
Joanna stood up. Despite the sheepskin lining in her denim jacket, she, too, felt chilled.
“I’d best be getting back home to your mother,” George added. “She doesn’t like it when I have to be out late at night-even when I’m off on official business and in the company of her very own daughter.”
“Truth be known, Eleanor doesn’t like her daughter being out late, either,” Joanna said with a laugh.
“You want me to stick around while you finish up?”
“No need. I’ll wait until my deputies leave, then I’ll go, too.”
George started down the walkway, then turned back. “How’s Butch holding up?” he asked. “With all the wedding preparations, I mean.”
“Fine,” Joanna answered. “Better than I am.”
“I know things are turning out to be somewhat more complicated than either one of you originally envisioned,” George added, “but I appreciate it. Ellie’s having the time of her life making all the arrangements. She’s in her element and loving every minute of it. By the way, she wanted me to ask when do your new in-laws arrive?”
“On Monday. They’re driving into town in their RV. They wanted to come a few days early so they’ll have a chance to visit with Butch before the wedding. He tried to talk them into coming a little closer to time, but he doesn’t seem to have any better luck with his mother than I do with mine. In other words, his folks will be here for the better part of the week. Since they’ll be staying at that new RV park down by the Elk’s Club, it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“I’ll try to see to it that Ellie and I do our fair share of entertaining,” George said. “Your mother will be in tall cotton and cooking up a storm. I’ll probably gain ten pounds.”
With that, George Winfield waved and continued down the gravel walkway. Joanna watched him go out and shut the gate, then she let herself back into the house. Talking with George had helped. She had worked with the man long enough to have real confidence that his initial assessment of the situation would most likely be on the money. There was little doubt in her mind that the official finding would be that Clayton Rhodes had died of a sudden massive stroke or heart attack or hemorrhage rather than by committing suicide or falling victim to foul play. Now, as Joanna went back through the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, she did so with a sense of loss that was no longer contaminated by guilt. It was all right to feel sad that Clayton was gone, but
