Dance of the Bones

“I would have, I suppose,” Unc allowed, “if anybody had ever bothered to come around asking the questions, but nobody did—-not until you turned up today. In my business, it’s never a good idea to go looking for trouble unless it lands smack on your doorstep, especially when you’re running a joint like this. But the next time Big Bad John stopped by, I showed him the door and told him he wasn’t welcome. He had the unmitigated gall to ask me how come. I told him he already knew how come, and that was that. And you know what? If he walked through that door today, I’d take a baseball bat to the SOB myself.”


Brandon left El Barrio that day with a spring in his step and feeling as though he might possibly be making progress. He went back to the office to look for Ava Martin, and she wasn’t hard to find. John Lassiter had said that she’d moved up in the world. Based on public records, Brandon could see that was certainly true. At midmorning the next day, Brandon showed up at the spread Ava shared with her new husband. It turned out to be a five--acre horse property just off Houghton Road on the far side of Pantano Wash. County records indicated that Ava was married to a man named Clarence Hanover. Brandon just happened to know for a fact that Hanover was one of Tucson’s top--drawer -attorneys.

Rather than call ahead, Brandon simply showed up. He parked in the drive of a low--lying stuccoed, fully landscaped ranch house. Stepping up onto the front porch, he rang the bell. There was a long pause before the door cracked open, and a woman peered out.

“We don’t want any,” she announced immediately, as soon as she caught a glimpse of Brandon’s face. She would have slammed the door shut, but Brandon managed to insert the toe of his boot between the door and the jamb.

“I’m not selling anything,” he asserted. “My name is Detective Brandon Walker with the Pima County Sheriff’s Office. I’m here investigating a homicide.”

Ava sighed and opened the door a bit wider. Her blond hair was impeccably styled into a smoothly flowing pageboy. Her makeup was flawless. She wore a tight--fitting cowboy shirt, equally tight jeans, a pair of boots, and enough turquoise and silver jewelry to choke a horse.

“A homicide?” she echoed. “Who’s dead?”

“A friend of yours, I believe, or at least an acquaintance—-a man by the name of Amos Warren. His skeletal remains were found out in the desert some time ago. After an autopsy, the M.E. concluded that Mr. Warren died of homicidal violence.”

Ava sighed again, letting Brandon know that she regarded his arrival on her doorstep as a grave inconvenience. “Okay, then,” she said, opening the door. “I guess you’d better come in.”

Ava led Brandon into a spacious living room and motioned for him to have a seat on a large cowhide--covered couch, while she sat down on a wooden--armed Eames chair with similarly covered cushions. Between them stood a coffee table constructed of thick glass covering what looked like the splintering remains of an antique wagon wheel. With friends living in real poverty out on the reservation, Brandon found the Hanovers’ pricey faux--rustic decor more than a little annoying.

“I’m surprised to hear Amos is dead,” Ava said. “What did he die of?”

“This is an ongoing investigation,” Brandon answered. “I’m not at liberty to release that information at this time.”

“Where did it happen?”

“On the far side of the Rincons. Actually, not that far from here, as the crow flies,” he added, pointing, “but it’s a long way if you’re driving.” After a slight pause, he added, “So I take it you did know Mr. Warren?”

Ava nodded. “But not well,” she said. “Amos was good friends with the guy I was dating back then, a fellow named John Lassiter. Johnny looked up to Amos, worshipped him practically. Johnny’s father died when he was a kid, and Amos acted like a father to him. When Amos left town—-at least that’s what we thought at the time—-it broke John’s heart. He went completely off the rails. That’s why I broke up with him—-he was drinking too much, fighting, and generally getting into trouble.”

“You said, ‘when Amos left town.’ That makes it sound as though you believed the same thing John did—-that Amos left of his own free will?”

“Wait,” Ava said. “You’ve talked to Johnny? How is he?”