J. Jance - Dead to Rights

Soon after Andy’s death, almost within days, any number of unscrupulous real estate vultures had shown up on her doorstep. All of them had been eager to buy her out-to take High Lonesome Ranch off her hands-at bargain-basement prices. She had felt as though they all thought the words “widow” and “sucker” were one and the same. Now she found herself wondering if some of those same kinds of low-life scum were busily targeting Terry Buckwalter for the same reason-to cheat her-without even having the good grace to wait for Bucky to be properly buried.

“You’re sure Terry Buckwalter said she’s selling the practice?” Joanna asked.

Eleanor hesitated. “She didn’t tell me exactly,” Eleanor said. “Not in so many words. She was leaving Helene’s at the same time I was going in. I only saw her on her way out the door, but that is what she told Helen Barco. And she’s not just unloading the clinic, either. She’s going to sell out completely-the house, the practice, everything.

“Now then,” Eleanor added, blithely changing the subject. “Would you like me to make an appointment for you? At Helene’s, I mean. You should have seen what Helen did for that frumpy Terry Buckwalter. You’d be amazed. The haircut and makeup made all the difference in the world. In fact, I almost didn’t recognize her.”

All the old conditioning was there and all the old patterns. Eleanor’s offer of help, which was actually nothing but art-fully disguised criticism, was an old, old ploy. Joanna was within a heartbeat of rising to the bait when she caught sight of Eva Lou’s face in the rearview mirror. Eva Lou’s quick wink, accompanied by a sympathetic smile, were enough to bring Joanna up short. Let it go, the wink seemed to say. Don’t ’ let her do this.

It was enough of an assist so Joanna was able to stop the rising retort before it ever made it out of her mouth. Instead to her surprise, she discovered it was possible to shrug of her mother’s none-too-subtle attack while at the same time saluting Eleanor’s unwavering single-mindedness.

“‘Thanks all the same, Mother,” Joanna said with a smile. “I’ll have to see when I can work a haircut into my schedule and set the appointment on my own.”

To Joanna’s amazement, that was all it took. Once she let it go, so did Eleanor. By the time they reached the Rob Rob parking lot a few minutes later, Eleanor was happily telling Eva Lou all about Bob and Marcie’s bone-china egg cups.

It was ten after twelve. Between golfers and luncheon attendees, the parking lot was fairly crowded. Joanna dropped Eleanor and Eva Lou at the door and then drove to the nearest available parking place at the far end of the lot. As she stepped out of the Blazer, she realized that the car next to hers was a familiar-looking aging white T-Bird that looker very much like Terry Buckwalter’s.

Sure enough, when she went around to the back and looked at the vehicle license, the license surround was printed with the words, “Have you hugged your vet today?”

Joanna was stunned. She had been surprised by Terri Buckwalter’s matter-of-fact acceptance of what had happened to her husband, but was the woman out playing golf the very next day? That was astonishing. Unheard of. And if Joann was shocked by the idea, Terry Buckwalter was making a social faux pas that would set tongues wagging all over Cochise County for years to come.

Shaking her head, Joanna headed for the dining room when a man met her at the door with a charming proprietary smile. “You must be Sheriff Brady,” he said. “Your lovely mother said you’d be along any minute. I’m Myron Thomas, the manager.”

Myron was short and round. He had penetratingly blue eyes, a courtly manner, and a slightly foreign but entirely unrecognizable accent.

“How late am I?” Joanna asked.

“Not at all,” Myron said easily. “The ladies were so enjoying their pre-lunch cocktails that they’re only just now settling into the dining room. If you’ll come this way, Sheriff Brady, I can take you directly to your place.”

As soon as Myron led the way into the dining room, Marianne Maculyea came hurrying to meet them. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “Until your mother and Eva Lou showed up, I was afraid you weren’t going to make it. I’ve just been drafted into introducing you. Come on. You’re seated right next to me.”

“What happened to Marliss Shackleford? I thought doing the introduction was her job.”

“So did I,” Marianne answered. “Maybe she’s sick. All I know is, she isn’t here. Linda Kimball, the women’s club president, asked me to pinch-hit.”

After their telephoned confrontation the night before, Joanna couldn’t help being grateful that Marliss wasn’t doing the introductory honors. With no love lost between the two women, there was no telling what Marliss might have said.

A waitress bearing two loaded salad plates stood waiting for Joanna and Marianne to slip into their places. As she sat, Joanna was pleasantly surprised to see her mother smiling in Joanna’s direction from two tables away. Eleanor Lathrop’s glass of “house” while wine was raised in a salute. Using her water glass, Joanna returned the favor.

Linda Kimball leaned her stout frame in Joanna’s direction. “I hope you don’t mind that there wasn’t room at the table for both your mother and your mother-in-law. I did find a place where they could he together.”

“That’s fine,” Joanna said. “I’m sure they appreciate It.”

“And how are things out at the sheriff’s department this morning?” Linda asked. “Hopping, I presume.”

“You could say that,” Joanna said with a nod. “That’ why we’re so late, as a matter of fact.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Linda said. “Most of the ladies have never been here before. The social hour gave them all chance to explore. I think even nondrinkers like me were getting a kick out of prowling around. Makes me feel like somebody dropped me somewhere smack in the middle of the Cotswolds.”

When Linda turned away to speak to the person seated on her left, Joanna had an opportunity to study her surroundings. The room was lovely, and spacious enough to hold the ten or so tables of twelve without seeming the least bit crowded. Dark walls and wood, as well as indirect lighting concealed behind deep-profiled cove molding near the ceiling gave the place an elegant ambience. If the food came close to matching the atmosphere, it was little wonder that the Rob Roy had emerged as the dining place of choice in Cochise County.

Linda stood up and tapped her water glass with a spoon calling them to attention. “Good afternoon, ladies,” she said with a smile. “Please stand for the invocation. Reverand Maculyea?”

With the invocation and flag salute over, the luncheon began in earnest. In years past, Joanna would have been almost sick at the prospect of standing up later and giving a speech. Fortunately, running for sheriff had cured her of all fear of public speaking. She was able to enjoy the food and to chat with her table companions without succumbing to a case of nerves.

“Have you heard anything more from Jeff?” Joanna asked during a moment of relative privacy.

A cloud seemed to pass over Marianne’s face. “Nothing,” she said. “Not a word. The board advanced the money he said he needed. I wired it to him yesterday afternoon, but at this point I have no way of knowing whether or not he received it.”

“Don’t worry,” Joanna said. “It probably arrived there right on time. If it didn’t and he really needed the money, he would have called by now.”

Marianne nodded, but still she looked troubled. “The problem is, spending that money now is going to leave us strapped later on. I can’t imagine what Jeff was thinking when he asked me to come up with that much more. When he gets back, he may have to go to work just to help keep us afloat. Who’ll take care of the baby?”