“Why, Sheriff Brady,” he said, hand extended. “How good to see you again, although I wish it were under somewhat less stressful circumstances. We really must stop meeting this way. But that reminds me: How’s my friend Junior doing these days?”
“As far as I can tell, he really seems to like living with his new guardians, Moe and Daisy Maxwell,” Joanna told the priest. “He works at Daisy’s restaurant most days—busing tables and washing dishes. He seems to like that, too. Every time I see him, it looks as though he’s having the time of his life.”
“I’ll have to stop by and check on him one of these days,” Father Mulligan said with a smile. “Now, I trust Sister Celeste has brought you up to speed with our latest little crisis? We do tend to gather unconventional strays around here.”
Joanna looked around. “Where are they?” she asked.
“Big Red and Lucy? I’m afraid the hawk was keeping far too close an eye on the fish in our reflecting pond,” Father Mulligan responded. “I suggested Lucy take him down by the riverbed in hopes he can rustle up something for dinner that isn’t one of my prize-winning koi.”
“Which way did they go?” Joanna asked.
Father Mulligan pointed. “Do you see that path between the church and the cemetery?” Joanna nodded. “Follow that,” he said. “It’ll take you right down to the river, but be careful. It’s been so dry lately that the bank is crumbling in spots.”
As Joanna set off in that direction, Sister Celeste made as if to follow. “I’ll come, too,” she said.
“No, Sister Celeste,” Father Mulligan said firmly. “That’s not necessary. Sheriff Brady will manage just fine on her own. I’ve seen this woman in action.”
Sister Celeste made as if to protest, but Father Mulligan shook his head and took her by the arm. “Come on,” he added. “Let’s you and me go into the rectory and wait there. I’m sure Brother Gregory will be happy to pour us a nice cup of his special herbal tea.”
Grateful to the priest for running interference, Joanna set off. Once she was out of sight behind the church and in the privacy of the well-kept cemetery, she stopped walking long enough to remove her cell phone from her purse. Fumbling Sister Celeste’s slip of paper out of her pocket, she dialed Bill Forsythe’s number.
“Sheriff Joanna Brady,” she said to the woman who answered. “I’m returning Sheriff Forsythe’s call.”
The man who came on the line seconds later sounded far different from the person Joanna had spoken to earlier in the day. “Thanks for calling me back, Sheriff Brady,” he said. “I just finished spending a good deal of time on the phone with Fran Daly. She’s our assistant medical examiner.”
“I know Dr. Daly,” Joanna said coolly.
“Yes, I understand you do,” Sheriff Forsythe said quickly. “She mentioned something to that effect. Anyway, she’s completed the Melanie Goodson autopsy. She tells me the victim died of homicidal violence—smothered, to be exact. Whether it was done with or without the benefit of drugs remains to be seen. The toxicology report will take something over a week. At any rate, Dr. Daly suggested that we work in conjunction with your detectives on this one.”
Thank you, Fran Daly, Joanna thought as she bit back the temptation to make some snide comment in return. “As you may have gathered,” she said aloud, “I’m out of the office right now. So are my detectives. If you would call back down to my department and speak to my chief deputy, Frank Montoya, I’ll direct him to give you whatever assistance you need.
“So,” she added, testing the water, “do your detectives have any theories so far?”
Bill Forsythe paused momentarily. “Melanie Goodson has a real estate investment partner by the name of Edward Masters. My detectives have been trying to locate him for the better part of two days. No success so far, I’m afraid.”
At that juncture, Joanna Brady might have volunteered the fact that she was about to interview Lucy Ridder, but she didn’t. Sheriff Bill Forsythe had left her hanging earlier. What goes around comes around, she thought as she ended the call. Immediately afterward she dialed Frank’s number. He didn’t answer, but she left word on his voice mail about Sheriff Forsythe’s sudden change of heart. Then, putting the phone away, Joanna started toward the river.