Devil's Claw

“Is Terry going back out there to look some more?”

 

 

“I don’t think so. As I told you, he and Spike worked pretty much all day yesterday. They put in some pretty long hours. My understanding is that he’s taking some comp time off today.”

 

“And chewing up my secretary’s workday by calling her on the phone,” Joanna said.

 

“Want me to talk to him about that?”

 

“No,” Joanna said. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll handle it.”

 

Butch was waiting for her on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “Your mother called after I got off the phone with you,” he said, as Junior Dowdle led them to a booth in the far back corner of the room.

 

“What did Eleanor want today?”

 

“To know whether or not I had scheduled hair and manicure appointments for you on Saturday morning.”

 

“What did you tell her?”

 

“That I hadn’t, but I would. And I did. You and Jenny both are due at Helene’s Salon of Hair and Beauty on Saturday at eleven a.m. Helen Barco will handle the two hairdos. Helen’s daughter-in-law will be on hand for your manicure.” Butch frowned. “By the way, if Helen owns the shop, who’s Helene?”

 

Joanna laughed. “When Slim Barco was making the sign for his wife’s new beauty shop, he added the extra e because he thought it would make the place sound classier.”

 

“Oh,” Butch said. “I see.”

 

“But you didn’t need to make an appointment for me,” Joanna continued. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my own hair.”

 

“Tell that to your mother,” Butch replied. “She insisted, and in case you haven’t noticed, Eleanor Lathrop Winfield can be very persuasive.”

 

“She’s a bully,” Joanna said. “Did she say anything else?”

 

“She wanted to know what’s all this stuff about Clayton Rhodes’ daughter?”

 

“What did you tell her?”

 

“Nothing. I’m not dumb enough to get sucked into that kind of deal. I told her that if she wanted information she’d have to go straight to the horse’s mouth—to you.” He grinned.

 

Joanna shook her head. “Great. That means I can expect my phone to be ringing the moment I come back from lunch.”

 

“Sorry,” Butch said. “But I was afraid if I said anything more than that, I’d probably stick my foot in my mouth.”

 

“You’re right. I’m the one who should handle it. She is my mother, after all.”

 

“She’s also inviting us over for dinner tonight. You, Jenny, and me, and my folks as well. She wants us all to have a chance to get acquainted.”

 

“What did you tell her on that score?”

 

“I asked her what time and told her we’d be there.”

 

Joanna found herself bridling. She didn’t like having someone else tell her where she’d be going and when, but then she thought better of it. After all, she had told Eleanor that Butch was in charge of wedding logistics. It was time to shut up, take her lumps, and let him do it.

 

“What time?” she asked.

 

“Six-thirty.”

 

Daisy came and took their order. “What’s going on at work today?” Butch asked after Daisy left for the kitchen.

 

As Joanna prepared to answer, she worried about restarting the previous night’s quarrel. “Dick Voland came around for those fingerprints.”

 

“Did you give them to him?”

 

“Casey Ledford did. I told her to.”

 

“All right, then,” Butch said. “I suppose you know what’s best.”

 

And that was the end of it. They went on to enjoy their lunch. They were done with their burgers and drinking coffee when Joanna’s distinctive cell phone with its roosterlike ring crowed in her purse.

 

“Sheriff Brady,” Tica Romero said when Joanna answered. “A call just came in from Tucson. The man first asked to speak to one of the detectives. When I told him neither of them was available, he asked to speak to the sheriff. Do you want me to patch him through?”

 

“Please,” Joanna said. “What’s his name?

 

“Quick,” Tica said. “Mr. Jay Quick.”

 

“And where’s he from, again?”

 

“Tucson.”

 

“Did he say what this was about?”

 

“No,” Tica replied. “Just that it was important, and he wanted to speak directly to someone in authority.”

 

“I guess that’s me, then,” Joanna said. “Patch him through.”

 

Moments later a male voice came through the phone. “Hello? Sheriff Brady?” he said.

 

“Yes,” Joanna said. “This is Sheriff Brady.”

 

“Sorry,” he said uncertainly. “I thought I was still talking to the nine-one-one operator. I didn’t expect the sheriff to be a woman.”

 

Joanna laughed. “You and a lot of other people, but I really am the sheriff. What’s your name again?”

 

“Quick. Jay Quick. I live in Tucson.”

 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Quick?”

 

“I just heard a report on the radio about a homicide down in your neck of the woods. The report said the dead woman’s name was Sandra Ridder and that she had recently been released from prison. Is that true?”

 

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