last night at the Mossman crime scene?”
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “And I adopted the spooky Australian shepherd from the pound this morning.”
“It’s a good thing Ellie didn’t see the new dogs earlier when we drove up,” George said. “It would have been that much more grist for her mill.”
“Will be,” Joanna corrected.
They got into the Crown Victoria and started down the road. Worried that the dogs might try to follow her out to the highway, Joanna kept a close eye on the rearview mirror. She turned onto Highway 80 without seeing any sign of pursuit.
“Where did this happen?” George Winfield was asking. “In one of the cells?”
“No. Out in the rec yard. The air-conditioning broke down 98
earlier this afternoon. I had all the inmates moved out into the yard while they were working on it. I didn’t want anyone dying of heatstroke.”
“You had all the prisoners in the yard at once?” George asked.
“We had extra personnel on duty. I didn’t think anything would happen.”
“But it has,” George said.
“And it’s not going to look very good, is it,” Joanna replied. “It seems like it’s one thing after another. First all those dogs died, and now this.”
“You’ll probably take more flak because of the dogs,” George predicted.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Joanna said. They were nearing the turnoff to the Justice Center. “Do you want to stop here first, or should I take you by the house so you can pick up your van?”
“I’d better have the van,” he said. “We’re going to need to get that body out of there.” He was quiet for a minute. “There’s something else,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Remember when we were working the Constance Haskell murder a few months back? Remember how Maggie MacFerson tried to make a big deal out of the fact that you and I were related?”
Maggie MacFerson, the murder victim’s sister, happened to be the Maggie MacFerson, a well-known investigative reporter for the major Phoenix daily, The Arizona Reporter.
She had been more than happy to imply that Sheriff Joanna Brady’s stepdaughter relationship with the Cochise County Medical Examiner had somehow caused irregularities in the handling of and investigation into Constance Haskell’s murder.
99
“Of course I remember,” Joanna returned. “But there was nothing to it.”
“You know there wasn’t anything to it, and so do I,” George Winfield said. “But this is different. Here we have an inmate who died while being incarcerated in your jail facility, Joanna. And he died in a situation that, however well-intentioned, wasn’t business as usual.”
“While they were out in the yard at my direction,” Joanna muttered grimly.
“Considering all the possible ramifications, not the least of which is liability, we’re going to have to be very careful.”
“You mean there could be possible conflict-of-interest problems if you investigate Richard Osmond’s death?”
“Precisely. This is a situation where neither one of us can afford the smallest margin for error.”
“Are you saying you want to call in another ME?”
“I think it’s wise, don’t you?”
Joanna sighed and picked up her microphone. “Tica,” she said when the dispatcher answered. “I need you to contact the Pima County Medical Examiner’s office. Tell them what we’ve got down here, and see if we can borrow an ME. We’ll pay, of course.
Nobody expects them to work for free.”
She put down the mike and turned back to George. “You know they’re going to charge us an arm and a leg.”
“No matter what they charge,” George Winfield said, “it’ll be cheap at twice the price.”
Joanna dropped George next to his Dodge Caravan and then drove back to the Justice Center alone. Tom Hadlock intercepted her in the parking lot.
“The guys are pissed about the lockdown,” he said. “They all say they didn’t do a thing.”
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“Right,” Joanna said. “Everybody’s as innocent as the day they were born. That’s why they’re all in the slammer. Now, what’s the story on Osmond? Who is he? What did he do?”
“He was serving ninety days for drunk and disorderly. He should have been in longer.
He was up on a domestic-violence beef, but his lawyer plea-bargained it down to D
and D.”
“How old is he?”
