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“That you’re expecting. It says so right here. In Marliss Shackleford’s column.”
Kristin held out the paper, and Joanna snatched it out of her hand. The Bee was already opened to Marliss’s column, “Bisbee Buzzings.” For Frank Montoya’s benefit, Joanna read the item aloud.
An unnamed source close to Cochise County Sheriff Joanna Brady tells us that the sheriff and her husband, Butch Dixon, could be in a family way. There’s no telling how the potential patter of little feet will affect Sheriff Brady’s current bid for reelection against former Cochise county deputy sheriff, Kenneth Galloway.
Motherhood, apple pie, and baby showers could get in the way of politics as usual, but at this point Sheriff Brady evidently has no intention of dropping out of the race.
That was all there was to the item, but by the time Joanna finished reading the two paragraphs, her voice was choked with fury. So much for her plan of giving Marliss Shackleford the kind of well-aimed, exclusive piece that might have allowed Joanna to control both timing and content. Here it was, set loose into the world in a way that was bound to do as much damage as possible. The general public would probably assume, just as Kristin Gregovich had, that Joanna had intended to keep her condition secret up to election day or even longer.
Livid, Joanna turned her ire on Frank. “You didn’t give her this, did you?” she demanded.
“No, ma’am,” Frank said. “Absolutely not. I didn’t breathe a word of it.”
“I didn’t think so. Unnamed source, my ass. It has to be my 113
mother, then. Eleanor’s the only other person Butch and I have told. Too bad for me, she and Marliss have always been the best of pals.”
With words of congratulation dying on her lips, Kristin retreated from Joanna’s office.
Frank Montoya followed, closing the door behind him as he went. The door was barely shut by the time Joanna had the telephone receiver in hand and was dialing George and Eleanor Winfield’s number.
“Mother?” Joanna said stiffly as soon as Eleanor answered the phone.
“My goodness, you’re certainly up and about early this morning,” Eleanor responded brightly.
“I’m calling about the piece in the paper,” Joanna said, struggling to keep her voice level.
“What piece is that?” Eleanor asked. “I brought the paper in from the porch, but I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. I usually save that for after George goes to work.”
“You know what piece I mean,” Joanna retorted. “It’s the part of Marliss Shackleford’s column that talks about my being pregnant. How could you do that to me, Mother? How could you?”
“Do what?”
Eleanor’s tone of affronted innocence made Joanna that much angrier. “Come on, Mother.
Don’t play games. How could you go behind my back and talk to Marliss that way? Other than Jenny, you and George were the first people Butch and I told. Did it ever occur to you that maybe we’d like the opportunity of sharing the news with a few other people in person before you hauled off and put it in the paper for everyone to read over their morning coffee?”
“Before I put it in the paper?” Eleanor repeated.
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“Yes. It’s this morning’s lead item in Marliss Shackleford’s column.”
“So you think that as soon as I got home from your house last night, I called Marliss and told her about this?” Eleanor demanded. “You think the idea of my daughter being pregnant and running for office at the same time is something I’d be in a hurry to brag about?”
“Are you saying you didn’t tell her?” Joanna asked.
“Of course I didn’t tell her,” Eleanor declared heatedly.
“Who did, then?”
“How should I know?” Eleanor returned. “All I can say is, Marliss didn’t get it from me. It hurts me to hear you’d even think such a thing.”
“You and Marliss have always been good friends,” Joanna pointed out.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to go to her to air our family’s dirty laundry.”
That brought Joanna up short. “It’s not dirty,” she said finally. “Remember, Mother?
I’m a married woman. My husband and I are expecting a baby together.”
“Then what are you so upset about?” Eleanor shot back. “Why are you calling me and giving me such a load of grief over it? Now, if you don’t mind, I believe I’ll get back to my breakfast. Goodbye.”
With that, Eleanor hung up, leaving Joanna sputtering into thin air. Moments later, Joanna slammed her own phone back into its cradle. That was the thing that made Eleanor Lathrop Winfield so damned exasperating. No matter what happened, Joanna was always in the wrong.
Still seething, Joanna picked up the paper and turned it back to the front page.
There she found a long article on the
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Carol Mossman murder, and a short piece about an unidentified inmate of the Cochise County Jail who had been found dead in the recreation yard. The paper had been printed late enough the previous night for the item about Joanna’s pregnancy to make it into Marliss Shackleford’s column. Wouldn’t it also have been late enough to
