“What’s the bad news on that?”
“Socks,” Butch said.
For a second Joanna thought that her Bluetooth earpiece might have cut out on her. “What?”
“Socks,” Butch repeated. “Dennis’s socks-several of them-were stuck in the drain. He says we’re supposed to use a lingerie sack when we wash them. Do we even have a lingerie sack?”
“I used to have one, years ago,” Joanna said. “My mother thought I needed one. Jenny used it to carry some baby chicks around once. I don’t think it ever came back inside the house.”
“I’ll put that on my Tucson shopping list,” Butch said. “But now that I’m getting such a late start, I was wondering if you’d like to go along. Carol says it’s fine with her. If it looks like we’ll be getting home too late, she’ll just plan on having the kids stay over at her place until morning.”
Carol Sunderson was a widow whose disabled husband had died in an electrical fire that had destroyed their rented mobile home the previous November. Left homeless, she and her two grandsons and black-and-white Sheltie, Scamp, had taken up residence in Joanna’s old house on High Lonesome Ranch. Carol paid rent for the privilege of living there, but Joanna and Butch paid her a salary for her invaluable service as a live-out housekeeper and nanny.
It was Carol’s calming presence that kept Joanna’s and Butch’s busy lives organized. Her cooking and cleaning and child-caring made Butch’s at-home writing a whole lot easier. While their washing machine had been down for the count, Carol had taken their necessary laundry home and had done it there. And although at almost fifteen, Jenny could conceivably have stayed on her own, Joanna and Butch thought it was best not to leave her on her own with the baby. Jenny was a teenager, as Joanna’s mother Eleanor had pointed out on more than one occasion. Although Jenny doted on her baby brother, it wasn’t fair to give her too much responsibility for the little one.
Bless Carol, Joanna thought.
“Well,” Butch said. “Will you come with me or not?”
Joanna glanced at her watch. It was a little past three. Working as sheriff, she certainly wasn’t required to punch a time clock, and she put in lots of extra hours long after the regular workday ended and on weekends, just as her father had once done before her. But unlike her father, D. H. Lathrop, Joanna was consciously trying to create family time. These days she was home for dinner more often than she wasn’t. And the thought of having some alone time with Butch-just the two of them-sounded heavenly, even if pushing a cart around Costco or tracking down a lingerie bag at Alice-Rae’s Intimate Apparel wasn’t her idea of a great time.
“Why not?” Joanna said. “Sounds like fun. I’ll call into the office and make sure everything’s under control. If it is, you’ve got yourself a date.”
“Where are you now?” Butch asked.
“Just coming through Elfrida,” Joanna said. “I’ll stop by the house and change clothes-”
“No,” Butch said. “Don’t do that. I’ll pick you up at the Justice Center. We can leave from there.”
That seemed like an odd idea since Joanna would have to drive right by High Lonesome Road to get back to her office, but for a change she didn’t debate the issue.
“Sure thing,” she said. “See you there.”
Once Butch was off the line, Joanna dialed her direct number, counting on her secretary, Kristin Gregovich, to pick up the phone.
“How are things?” Joanna asked when Kristin answered.
“As far as I can tell, everything’s under control.”
“How about next month’s shift schedule?”
“I helped Chief Deputy Hadlock clean up a couple of items,” Kristin told her. “But it’s posted now. I think it’s fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” Joanna said. Maybe Tom Hadlock was starting to get the hang of things after all. “Anything else I should know about?”
“Not that I can think of,” Kristin said.
“Good. I think I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off and go to Tucson with Butch.”
“I hope you have a great time,” Kristin said, which seemed like an odd response.
“I doubt it,” Joanna said. “Shopping has never been my long suit.”
When she pulled up into her reserved parking place behind the building, she was surprised to see Butch already waiting there. As she stopped her Crown Victoria, she caught him glancing at his watch. Rather than going into the building, she simply transferred her briefcase and purse into the backseat of his Subaru. Then she let herself into the passenger seat and buckled up.
“What time does Costco close?” she asked.
“Around six,” he said.
“Good, then,” Joanna replied. “We have plenty of time.”
She sat back in the seat and closed her eyes, relishing the idea that Butch would be doing the driving.
“So what have you really been up to all day?” he asked.
Which meant that the understated “Fine” she had given him earlier hadn’t done the trick. “I’ve been at a crime scene,” she told him.
He knew without asking that this meant a homicide crime scene. In the course of the next two hours, as they drove the hundred miles between Bisbee and Tucson, she told him about it. At least she told him what she could. He was interested as her husband, but Butch was also interested in what she had to say because he was a mystery writer. Occasionally what she told him about real cases got run through his mental blender and emerged through his fingers transformed into fiction.
After that, they talked about plans for Frank Montoya’s bachelor party. Since the bride was an ER physician and since most of the attendees would be police officers, the party would be tame by bachelor-party standards-no stripper and no booze-with the Texas Hold’Em proceeds and winnings going to the local Jail Ministry.
“We have enough tables and chairs now?” Joanna asked.
“Plenty,” Butch told her.
“What’s on the menu other than steak?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” Butch said with a grin. “Carol and I have that covered.”
Lost in talking, Joanna didn’t pay attention to the exit signs and was surprised when they turned off on Kino. “Isn’t this the long way around to get to Costco?” she asked. By then, if six o’clock really was the deadline, they were coming right up on the witching hour. Butch seemed unperturbed.
“No problem,” he said. “We’re fine.”
When he turned off on Elm rather than Grant, Joanna was really surprised. “If we’re going to go down side streets, we’re never going to make it on time.”
“Yes, we will,” he said, pulling to a stop outside the valet stand at the Arizona Inn. “Our dinner reservation isn’t until seven.”
“Dinner here?” Joanna asked. “In this?” She looked down at a her uniform, which, after spending most of the day at a dusty desert crime scene, was much the worse for wear.
A bellman, pushing a luggage cart, came over to Butch’s side of the car. “Checking in, sir?” he asked through the window.
Butch nodded and punched the button to open the gate to the Subaru’s luggage compartment, then he turned to Joanna and grinned. “Happy anniversary,” he said.
“But wait,” Joanna objected. “Our anniversary is over a week away.”
“I know,” Butch said. “You’re a very tough woman to surprise. I figured jumping the gun was the only way to make it work. If I had told you in advance, you’d have ended up finding a dozen reasons why we couldn’t or shouldn’t do it.”
Right then, Joanna was a whole lot more than merely surprised. She was astonished, and not in the least because she herself had completely forgotten about their upcoming anniversary.
“But I don’t even have a card for you,” she objected. “And what about going to Costco?”
“Shopping is scheduled for tomorrow,” Butch declared firmly.
“But by the time they open, I should be back at work.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Tomorrow you’re taking a vacation day. With all the excitement of Frank’s wedding festivities, I figured our own anniversary would get lost in the shuffle. So tonight it’s just the two of us. We have the
