Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [90]
“He and Grandma died within weeks of each other. The minute Gramps was gone, my mother and aunts and uncles came riding into town on their broomsticks. They had Grandma’s casket dug up and then they shipped both Grandma and Grandpa back home to bury them. It’s years later, Joey, and I’m still pissed about it. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t gone back home to visit. I’d as soon punch my aunts’ and uncles’ lights out as look at them.”
“I never knew any of that,” Joanna said quietly.
“No,” Butch agreed. “I don’t suppose you did. I’m still ashamed of myself for letting him down—for not putting up more of a fight. But I was only the grandson. No one was interested in listening to me.”
Joanna reached over and put a comforting hand on Butch’s leg. “I’m sure you did the best you could,” she said quietly.
“Right,” he said bitterly. “Sure I did, but it wasn’t good enough.”
With 60 Minutes over, Joanna went into the den, turned on her computer, and wrote up a report on everything she had learned during her trip to Lordsburg. When she finished, she e-mailed it to Frank Montoya at the office. That way, even if she didn’t go in right away in the morning, the report would be there.
“Reports come first,” D. H. Lathrop used to say. “If you’re not doing the paper, you’re not doing the job.”
Twenty-four hours late, Dad, she said to herself. But the paper’s there.
Thirteen
Good as her word, Joanna was at the Cochise County Medical Examiner’s office by eight forty-five the next morning. Busy on the phone, Nell Long, the ME’s receptionist, waved Joanna toward George Winfield’s open office door.
“Any sign of Mr. Mossman?” Joanna asked, peering around the doorjamb into her stepfather’s office.
“Not so far,” George replied. “But I have an idea he’ll be here shortly. Have a chair. How are you feeling?”
“I’m still a puking mess every morning,” Joanna returned. “I’m hoping that’ll settle down in a few weeks. At least that’s how it worked when I was pregnant with Jenny.”
“I never had a chance to say anything about the other night—with Ellie, I mean,” George Winfield said. “I thought she was way out of line, and I told her so. In other words, if it’s any consolation, Joanna, I think she’s as provoked with me right now as she is with you.”
“The old misery-loves-company routine,” Joanna said with a hollow laugh. It was easier to make light of Eleanor Lathrop Winfield’s rantings and ravings when she was well out of earshot.
“Something like that,” George agreed.
“Well, don’t worry about it. I’ve known Mother a lot longer than you have, George. She’ll get over it eventually.” Joanna made the statement with more conviction than she felt. There were some things Eleanor Lathrop never got over.
“What about you?” George asked.
“I’m going to go ahead and do what I do,” Joanna told him. “Eleanor will have to like it or lump it.”
“Good girl,” George said. “Way to go!”
The telephone rang. Nell answered it. A moment later, her voice sounded on George’s intercom. “Edith Mossman is on the line.”
“Great,” George said. “Just what I need. I love being caught in the cross fire between battling relatives.” He picked up his phone. “Good morning, Mrs. Mossman. What can I do for you?”
There was a pause. A frown appeared on George Winfield’s brow. The longer Edith Mossman talked, the deeper grew the lines on George’s forehead.
“Yes, that’s true. He is coming in this morning. I’m expecting him in the next few minutes. And no, I’m not sure who notified him. Someone from the sheriff’s department, I should imagine.”
Another pause. “No, I’m really not involved in all that. I release the body to the mortuary. After that, it’s up to the family to handle things from there.”
There was another long silence on the medical examiner’s part. Joanna couldn’t make out any of the words, but the angry buzz of Edith Mossman’s shrill voice hummed through the telephone receiver and out into the room.
“Really, Mrs. Mossman, that’s not up to me. You’ll need to discuss it with