J. Jance - Dead to Rights

“I already told you,” Ruth asserted, “it is too late. I got sick and tired of listening to him talk about Joanna Brady this and Joanna Brady that twenty-four hours a day. I’ve found someone else. Kenneth is the coach of my son’s bowling team out in Sierra Vista. Ken’s already divorced, and I will be soon.”

Joanna was stunned. She had somehow thought all she’d have to do was walk up to the door, talk to Ruth Voland a few minutes, and the whole thing would be set to rights.

“You’re filing for a divorce?”

“Sure I am,” Ruth Voland replied. “Ken and I want to get married as soon as we can.”

“But Ruth,” Joanna argued. “You’ve already got a perfectly good husband.”

“If he’s so damned perfect, you have him then,” Ruth Voland said. “It was bad enough when he was married to the job. I could take that. I knew what to expect. But then, when you turned up, it was too much. I’m just a housewife, Sheriff Brady. I don’t know what you are, but to hear Dick tell it, you must be right up there with Wonder Woman. I can’t compete with that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get hack to my Exercycle.”

Still in a daze, Joanna walked back to the Blazer, got in, and drove back k her in-law’s place in Warren. Jenny was at a friend’s house when Joanna got there, and that was just as well.

“What’s going on?” Eva Lou asked. “You look upset.”

“Ruth Voland has thrown Dick out of the house. She’s filing for a divorce. She thinks there’s something going on between us.”

“Between you and Dick Voland?”

“That’s right.”

“There isn’t anything, is there?” Eva Lou asked.

“Of course not!” Joanna replied indignantly. “We work together, and that’s it. I tried to explain that to Ruth. I’m certainly not interested in the man, but I don’t think she believed me.”

“Probably not,” Eva Lou answered. “You’ve got to look at it through her point of view.”

“Which is?”

“Other than being an Avon Lady for a little while a few years back, I don’t think Ruth Voland has ever worked out-side the home. All of a sudden you arrive on the scene, not just as a fellow officer, but as her husband’s boss. He’s bound to talk about you. The more he does, the more threatened she must feel.”

“But Eva Lou,” Joanna argued, “we never did anything. There was never anything out of line. We’ve just worked together, but here she has me cast as the other woman.”

“Whether you meant to be or not, you are the other woman,” Eva Lou said quietly.

“But what should I do about it?” Joanna asked desperately. “What can I do to fix it?”

“Not a blessed thing, ”Eva Lou answered. “It’s strictly between the two of them. It has nothing to do with you.”

The front door banged open and a breathless Jenny came racing into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom,” she said. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.”

When Jenny and Joanna reached the Pizza Palace, Butch Dixon’s Goldwing was already parked outside the door. They found the man himself inside, seated at an oilcloth-covered picnic table. He was leaning against the wall, still reading the same book. While Jenny headed straight for the video-game arcade, Joanna slipped onto the bench across from him.

“Must be a good book,” Joanna said.

Closing it, Butch looked over at her and grinned he said. “This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve read it. It’s like reading the Bible. Depending on where you are and what’s going on in your life, you get something different out of it with each reading.”

He glanced around the room. “Where’s Jenny?”

“Waylaid by the video games,” Joanna answered with an exasperated shrug of her shoulders. “I gave her a dollar and told her when that’s gone there’ll be no more.”

“If she’s any good, she could he gone a long time,” Butch said.

“Believe me,” Joanna returned, “she ’s not that good.”

“You look tired,” Butch said, examining her face. “Rough day, I suppose, with the funeral and all.”

Joanna was still so stricken by her confrontation with Ruth Voland that Bucky Buckwalter’s funeral seemed days, not hours, away. “It’s been a rough week,” she said.

Jenny proved to be far better with the video games than her mother had expected. By the time she finally showed up at the table, Butch had already ordered a pitcher of root beer, a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, and green salads all around. Left on their own, the two grown-ups had launched off into conversation.

“Well,” Joanna said, “what’s the verdict on Bisbee so far?”

“It’s nice,” he said. “And small. And everybody seems to know you.”

“That’s how small towns are supposed to work. Everybody knows everybody else.”

“No,” Butch said. “People know you specifically. Several different people have asked me what I’m doing in Bisbee. When I tell them I’m here visiting a friend and that the friend is you, they all have something to say about you.”

“Good, bad, or indifferent?” Joanna asked.

“Mostly good,” Butch replied. “The people I’ve talked to seem to be very proud of you. Small-town girl makes good and all that.”

Joanna gave him a rueful grin. “Don’t believe everything you hear. And remember, I didn’t exactly volunteer for this job. I was drafted.”

“So were most of the guys whose names ended tip on the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C.,” Butch Dixon answered seriously. “But just because they were drafted doesn’t keep them from being heroes or martyrs, depending on your point of view.”

A moment or two passed. “Does that bother you?” he asked. “The fact that everybody knows you?”

“I guess I’m getting used to it.”

Sensing that the conversation was making her uncomfortable, Butch changed the subject. “It’s gorgeous country,” he said. “The contrasting reds and grays. The blue sky. The whole place is just incredible.”

Relieved of her four quarters, Jenny arrived at the table, sampled her drink, smiled at Butch and said, “What kind of pizza?”

“Jenny,” Joanna admonished. “Mind your manners. First you should say hello.”

“Hello,” Jenny chirped in Butch’s direction. “And what kind of pizza?”

“Hello yourself,” Butch returned. “And the pizza of the day is pepperoni with extra cheese.”

“Did you know that’s my favorite?” Jenny asked.

Butch nodded. “A little bird told me.”

“It did not,” Jenny responded, settling onto the bench be-side her mother. “She told you.”

Butch grinned. “You got me,” he said. “Now tell me all about this ranch of yours. Where is it again?”

“The High Lonesome is about ten miles the other side of town. Fifteen miles or so from where we are now.”

“And the two of you live out there all by yourselves?” he asked. “Isn’t it lonely?”

Jenny shook her head. “It’s not lonely,” she said. “We’ve got the dogs. And pretty soon we’re going to have a horse, too. Mom’s going to buy me one for my birthday.”

Joanna glowered at her daughter. “I wouldn’t he so certain about that horse, Jenny,” she said. Then, to Butch, she added, “It does seem a little lonely at times. And there are days when I get so sick of the long commute that I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“What do you mean, a long commute?” Butch asked.

Joanna shrugged. “Well,” she replied, “it’s ten minutes to the end of the road and then another seven or so after that to the office.”

Butch Dixon’s response was a genuine hoot of laughter. “Back in Chicago, where I grew up, twenty minutes was how long it took my father to get to the train station in Downers Grove. Then there was another hour on the train. That’s a long commute. He did it every weekday for twenty-five years.”