Usually Joanna’s nightmares dissipated a few minutes after she awoke. This time the disquieting image of Butch laid out in the harsh lights of the ME’s examining room stuck with her and wouldn’t go away.
“Joanna?” Butch asked. “Are you listening?”
“Sorry, I must have been woolgathering. What did you say?”
“I asked what you’re up to today.”
“We’ll have to deal with what happened to Richard Osmond at the jail yesterday,”
she told him. “But I’m also hoping we’ll make some progress on the Mossman case.”
“Sounds busy,” Butch said. “Will you be having lunch with Marianne?”
Friends since junior high, Joanna and the Reverend Marianne Maculyea tried to have lunch together at least once a week. On the surface, they were just two old friends enjoying each other’s company. But there was more to their weekly get-togethers than that. As two women working in nontraditional jobs and living in nontraditional families, each served as the other’s primary support system. Other than Marianne, there weren’t all that many women clerics working in Bisbee, or in Cochise County, either. And, as far as Joanna knew, there were no other female sheriffs anywhere.
“We probably will meet up,” Joanna said dubiously. “But the way I feel right now, I’m not so sure about eating lunch.”
“Isn’t there something you can take for morning sickness?” Butch asked, putting a plate containing two peanut-butter-spread English muffins on the counter in front of her.
Joanna shook her head. “Too many antinausea drugs have the potential of causing birth defects.”
“So we just have to wait it out?” Butch returned.
Joanna nodded. “Grin and bear it,” she said.
110
While Joanna nibbled tentatively at her English muffins, Butch went into the laundry room and began distributing dog food. At the first clatter of dog dishes, Tigger came racing from the far end of the house, followed by the puppy. Butch put the food in the garage and then opened the door, but only Tigger and Lucky went out. Butch had to leave the door open and then come all the way back into the kitchen before Lady sidled into the laundry room and then on into the garage.
“I’d like to beat the crap out of the guy who hurt that dog,” Butch said after she left. “I don’t think she actually hates men. She’s just scared to death of us—probably with good reason.”
Jenny came into the kitchen about then, rubbing her eyes and frowning. “What’s happening?”
she asked. “Why’s everyone up so early?”
“It’s due to your mother’s delicate condition,” Butch said with a chuckle. “I have a feeling we’re all going to be early birds for the next little while.”
It was one of the few times ever that Sheriff Brady beat Frank Montoya into the office.
When he came to see her a little later, he carried his usual cup of coffee. Again, the very smell of it made Joanna turn green.
If I’d only waited long enough to smell the coffee this morning, Joanna thought miserably, we wouldn’t have had to waste any money on the pregnancy test. Do you suppose that’s what Dear Abby meant when she said, “Wake up and smell the coffee”?
“Is something the matter?” Frank asked. “You don’t look very well.”
“I’m all right,” she said. “It’s nothing that having a baby won’t fix.”
111
“Oh, that,” Frank said. “I see.” But, since he was a confirmed bachelor, Joanna wasn’t convinced he did.
“What’s on the agenda today?” she asked. “Did you have any luck tracking down Maria Gomez?”
Frank nodded. “Yes, unfortunately. It wasn’t pretty.”
“She was upset?”
“I’ll say, and who could blame her? The thing is, she wanted to know what we’d done to Richard. I told her we hadn’t done a thing, but she didn’t believe it. Her father was there, and he wasn’t much help, either. You do know who the father is, don’t you?” Frank asked. “Gabriel Gomez?”
“I heard the name last night,” Joanna said. “It sounded familiar, but at the time I couldn’t place it. Who is he?”
“Gabriel Gomez is an attorney in Douglas. Specializes in immigration law. By the time I left their house last night, he was threatening to sue the department for wrongful death on his daughter’s behalf.”
“How can they do that?” Joanna asked. “We still don’t have any idea of who or what killed Richard Osmond.”
“You know that, and I know that, boss, but Papa Gomez is an attorney. You don’t really expect him to wait around for the dust to settle, do you? His strategy is to sue first and ask questions later.”
“Great,” Joanna said. “That’s just what I need to hear first thing in the morning.”
The door to Joanna’s office shot open and Joanna’s secretary bounded into the room, brandishing a copy of The Bisbee Bee over her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded. “Were you planning on keeping it a secret?”
“Keeping what a secret?” Joanna asked.
