Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [44]
Joanna paused and, for the first time, noticed that Kristin was carrying several handwritten messages. “So what’s up?” Joanna added.
Kristin nodded self-consciously. “Detective Carpenter says he’s going to Tucson for the Osmond autopsy. He’ll be gone most of the morning. Also, Edith Mossman is coming here for an interview with Detective Carbajal. Ernie says Jaime will probably need someone to sit in on that with him.”
“All right,” Joanna said. “If Frank Montoya can’t do it, I will. Anything else?”
“There were two other calls that came in while you were on the phone. One was from Reverend Maculyea and the other from Eva Lou Brady. I told them you’d call them back.”
Damn Marliss Shackleford anyway! Joanna thought savagely. She said, “I will call them back, Kristin, so when you go back out, please shut the door.”
For the next half hour, Joanna made a series of calls. Conversations that should have been happy ones announcing her pregnancy ended up being chores instead. Joanna spent most of the time on the phone apologizing to one person after another, including her best friend, Marianne Maculyea, and her former mother-in-law, Eva Lou Brady, both of whom had already read Marliss’s column. By the time Joanna’s chief deputy returned for the morning briefing, Joanna welcomed the interruption.
“We’ll have to make this quick,” Frank told her. “I’ve got a news conference scheduled in a little while. It’s primarily to go over the Richard Osmond situation, but if they ask, what do you want me to say about you?”
“About my delicate condition?” Joanna asked.
Frank nodded.
“Tell them I have no intention of dropping out of the race for sheriff. If daddies can be soldiers and sheriffs, so can mommies.”
“Do you think that’s the best way to couch it?” Frank asked. “With potential voters, I mean.”
“It may not be the best way,” Joanna told him. “But it’s my way, and you can quote me on that. If you’re going to be busy with a press conference, who’s going to back up Jaime Carbajal when he questions Edith Mossman?”
“I guess it’s up to you,” Frank said.
Joanna nodded. “Okay. Speaking of Edith Mossman, how’s she getting here from Sierra Vista? We’re not expecting her to catch a cab from there to Bisbee, are we?”
“No,” Frank said. “I believe one of Edith’s granddaughters—the one who lives here in town—is picking her up and bringing her to the department.”
“Good,” Joanna said. “I’m glad to hear it.”
When the briefing ended, Frank left her office and Kristin entered once more, bringing with her that day’s first load of correspondence. Joanna had managed to get a good start on dealing with the paper jungle when her intercom buzzed. “Sheriff Brady?” Kristin said. “Mrs. Mossman is here.”
“She and Detective Carbajal are in the conference room?” Joanna asked.
“Right.”
“Okay,” Joanna said. “I’ll be right there.”
To reach the conference room, Joanna had to walk past Kristin’s desk and through a small reception area. Seated on the love seat, thumbing through an old copy of Arizona Highways, was a large woman with mousy brown hair who looked to be about Joanna’s age. She wore shorts, an oversize T-shirt, and thongs.
It was only midmorning, but already the office was heating up. Dressed in her uniform, Joanna couldn’t help but envy the other woman’s casual attire, but not the strained expression on her face. It was the despairing, empty look in the eyes that gave Joanna her first clue. She had seen that look far too many times before in the eyes of grieving survivors—the people left behind in the wake of violent and unexpected deaths. This had to be one of Carol Mossman’s sisters.
Joanna stopped in front of the love seat and held out her hand. “I’m Sheriff Brady,” she said. “You must be Stella Adams.”
“Yes,” the woman murmured softly. “Yes, I am.”
“Please accept my condolences.”
Stella nodded. “Thank you,” she replied.
“And thank you for bringing your grandmother here for the interview. We’re a little shorthanded at the moment. Otherwise I would have sent one of my detectives