The cabdriver counted through the money and then beamed back at Edith. Clearly she had given him a sizable tip. “Anytime, ma’am. You call the dispatcher and ask for me personally. I’ll be glad to take care of you.”
It took several minutes to help Edith Mossman into the car. Once she was settled, Joanna went back into the building. By then Jaime Carbajal had arrived on the scene.
Joanna brought him up to speed. “You two handle Eddie,” Joanna told him. “In the meantime, I’m giving Mrs. Mossman a ride back to Sierra Vista.”
Once in the driver’s seat of the Crown Victoria, Joanna 252
glanced in Edith Mossman’s direction. She sat slumped in the passenger’s seat, staring stonily ahead at nothing in particular.
‘Are you all right?” Joanna asked.
“I’m a failure,” Edith said quietly.
‘A failure?”
‘At motherhood. If I’d done a better job, Eddie wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.”
“If your son turned out to be a child molester, it’s not your fault. It’s his.”
Edith turned sharply and stared at Joanna. “I never said that,” she said.
“No, you didn’t,” Joanna agreed. “You didn’t have to, but it is true, isn’t it?”
Edith shut her eyes. Two fat tears dribbled slowly down her bony cheeks. Finally she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered brokenly. “Yes, it is.”
“Would you tell me about it?”
“It’s too late. It’s over and done with.”
“It’s not over,” Joanna said quietly.
“What do you mean?” Edith asked.
“Two other women were murdered last week over near Rodeo, New Mexico,” Joanna said.
“Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega were independent television journalists doing a story on a group called The Brethren.”
Joanna let the last word fall into the conversation like a pebble into a deep well.
It took a long time for her to hear the answering splash.
“The same group Eddie’s involved with,” Edith Mossman breathed at last.
Joanna nodded. “Pamela Davis and Carmen Ortega left California with a check for five thousand dollars from their
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production company, Fandango Productions, made out to Carol Mossman. They were going to pay her to tell her story, Edith. Somebody murdered them and your granddaughter, too, in order to keep Carol from going public.”
‘And you think my son did that?”
“It’s possible.”
“If he did,” Edith said fiercely “then you have to lock him up and throw away the key.”
“You’ll help us then?”
‘Absolutely. Just tell me what to do.”
“You’ll need to talk to my detectives again.”
Edith nodded. ‘All right,” she said.
“Why didn’t you mention any of this to them the other day when you talked to them the first time?”
Edith shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think it was important. And Carol never wanted to talk about it. At least she never did before. I thought I was respecting her wishes.
But now … Of course I’ll talk to them, but there’s something else I need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to talk to a lawyer. I want someone to go to court for me to keep Eddie from taking Carol’s body away.”
“You don’t have an attorney of your own?” Joanna asked.
“I used to,” Edith said. “Augie Deming, out in Sierra Vista. He’s the one who did Grady’s and my wills, but that was years ago. Augie died a few years after Grady did. I haven’t used an attorney since.”
While they talked, Joanna had started the car and driven down Tombstone Canyon as far as the downtown area. Now she pulled into a parking place. “Tell you what,” she said. “Burton Kimball’s office is just over there.” She pointed toward the 254
entrance to a long redbrick building. “Burton’s an attorney. He’s also a friend of mine. He’s done some work for
