J. A. Jance
‘And who’s Cecilia?” Joanna asked.
“Cecilia who?” Edith asked.
Right that moment, Joanna wasn’t prepared to tell Edith Mossman that she had yet another granddaughter, a possible half sister of Carol, Stella, Andrea, and Kelly, who was now also in jeopardy.
“Never mind,” Joanna said at last. “I’m probably mistaken.”
After that, Edith Mossman settled back in her seat. Seconds later she was snoring softly. In the relative silence that followed, Joanna thought about Carol Mossman and her three victimized sisters. It was one thing for a ten- year-old child to take over the household responsibilities-the care and feeding-of three younger siblings, but for Carol to be unable to protect any of them, herself included, from their own father … That was, as Edith Mossman had said, unthinkable! No wonder that, as an adult, Carol had turned to animals for comfort and companionship. Compared to what the human race had dished out to her, dogs must have seemed amazingly uncomplicated.
Joanna’s phone crowed. She reached for it quickly afraid the sound might disturb Edith, but the snores continued unabated.
“Yes,” Joanna said quietly.
“Where are you right now?” Frank Montoya asked.
“On my way to Sierra Vista to take Edith Mossman back to her place. Why?”
“And that’s at the Ferndale Retirement Center?”
“That’s right.”
“You’ve hit the jackpot then,” he said. “So far, nobody at PD up in Phoenix has been able to come up with a list of General Office employees, but according to the guy I talked to, we’ve got something just as good. Does the name Bob Mahilich ring a bell?”
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“Sure,” Joanna said. “He’s the Bisbee boy who made good and went on to become some bigwig for Phelps Dodge up in Phoenix.”
“That’s right,” Frank Montoya agreed. “Went to college on a full-ride PD scholarship and went to work for them as soon as he graduated from the Colorado School of Mines.
Now he’s their VP for Operations.”
“What about him?” Joanna asked.
“When the person I was talking to found out what I wanted, she referred me to Bob, since she knew he was from Bisbee originally. I figured it was going to be another dead end, but I called him anyway and got lucky. His grandmother, Irma Mahilich, worked in the General Office here in Bisbee from the time she graduated from high school until she retired in 1975. According to Bob, Irma’s memory isn’t so sharp when it comes to telling you what she had for breakfast, but as far as what she did during her working years, she’s an encyclopedia.”
“He thinks she’d remember who worked in the General Office way back then?”
“Right, since she hired most of them. And you’ll never guess where she lives.”
“Where?”
“At the Ferndale Retirement Center. For all I know, she may live right next door to Edith Mossman.”
“You want me to talk to her?” Joanna asked.
“Either that or I can send Jaime and Ernie.”
“No. They have enough to do. When it comes to dealing with LOLs, I’m every bit as good as they are.”
“That’s what I thought,” Frank agreed.
Joanna glanced at Edith Mossman, who hadn’t stirred. “Any other news?”
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“Yes. Ernie’s been in touch with Fandango Productions. They’re checking with their attorney to see whether or not they can give us access to the two victims’ company e-mail files. Otherwise, we’ll have to go through the pain of sending someone over there and serving them with a warrant.”
“Let me know what happens on that score.”
Joanna’s phone buzzed in her ear. “I’ve got another call, Frank. I have to go.”
“Joey?” Butch Dixon asked. “Where are you?”
“On my way to Sierra Vista. I’m just crossing the San Pedro. What’s up?”
“You’ll never guess who just called.”
Joanna was too tired to want to play games. “Who?” she asked.
“Drew,” Butch replied excitedly.
Drew Mabrey was the literary agent who, for the last year, had been trying to sell Butch’s first manuscript, Serve and Protect. In the intervening months, Butch had worked on the second book in the series, and he had also done a good deal of physical labor on their new house. But as time had passed with no word of acceptance on the manuscript, Butch had become more and more discouraged.
“And?”
“Remember that editor, the one who had expressed interest in the book and then ended up turning it down?
