J. Jance - Skeleton Canyon

Just as Joanna had suspected earlier, another fierce summer thunderstorm was on its way, bringing with it wind, dust, and rain. Not to mention flash floods and more overtime, Joanna thought. But as she continued to stare out the window, her budget concerns were overtaken by another consideration-by the glimmer of a hunch that was more gut instinct than anything else.

Under normal circumstances, Joanna would have turned that hunch over to her investigators. With both her detectives otherwise occupied, she decided to follow through on it herself. Picking up her phone, she dialed the records clerk. “Cindy, can you get me driver’s license information for Katherine O’Brien?”

“Sure, Sheriff Brady,” Cindy Hall responded. “Do you have a middle initial or date of birth?”

“Negative on both of those,” Joanna told her.

“What about address?”

“Purdy Lane,” Joanna replied. She waited during the silence for the several seconds it took for the computer to hook into the slate’s vehicular database and to kick out the needed information.

“All right,” Cindy said finally. “I think I’ve got her. Middle initial is V. Maiden name was Ross. What else would you like to know?”

“Date of birth, for starters,” Joanna said.

“March four,” Cindy answered. “And the year is 1942. Anything else?”

March four, Joanna thought. The same day as the entry that said Katherine was a liar. Are the two somehow related?

“Any arrests or convictions?” Joanna asked.

“None at all,” the clerk answered.

Putting down the phone, Joanna considered her next move. Finally, picking up the receiver again, she dialed her in-laws’ number. She was relieved when Eva Lou answered the phone. That way Joanna could ask her question directly without having to go through Jim Bob.

“Why, good afternoon, Joanna,” Eva Lou said. “How are you doing today, and what have you heard from Jenny?”

Joanna laughed. “Nothing so far. This is Monday. She’s only been there since Saturday, remember?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Eva Lou conceded. “It seems much longer.”

Joanna nodded. It seemed that way for her as well.

“If you write to her,” Eva Lou continued, “be sure to tell her that Grandpa and I miss her terribly.”

“Will do,” Joanna agreed. “In the meantime, I need your help. Last night you were telling me something about Katherine O’Brien. About her mission work.”

“Oh, yes. That poor woman,” Eva Lou said. “My heart just aches for her.”

“Who was it who told you about Mrs. O’Brien’s going on missions? ”

“That would have been Babe,” Eva Lou answered at once.

“Babe Sheridan. She also attends St. Dominick’s. Why do you heed to know?”

“It’s nothing,” Joanna said. “I have a couple of questions is all.” Minutes later, Joanna was on the phone with Babe Sheridan at the water company’s customer service desk, where she had worked ever since her husband’s death in a mining accident some thirty years earlier.

“What can I do for you Sheriff Brady?” Babe asked.

“I’m curious about Katherine O’Brien,” Joanna said, trying to make the inquiry seem as casual as possible.

“Isn’t it terrible about their daughter?” Babe said at once. “It’s bad enough to lose a husband, but a child? I hear the funeral mass is going to be on Thursday afternoon. I’m planning on taking half a day off so I can attend.”

“Yes, it is terrible,” Joanna replied, “but I’m not calling about that at the moment. I wanted to ask you about the mission work Katherine does. I have a friend who’s interested in doing some medical mission work as well, but this doesn’t seem to be the right time to ask the O’Briens about it.”

Joanna’s story was a bold-faced lie, but it worked. “Oh, of course not,” Babe Sheridan agreed at once. “They shouldn’t he bothered at a time like this. Now, let me see. I don’t quite remember the details or even the name of the organization. It’s not Doctors Without Borders, but it’s something like that. I’m terrible with names. Whatever it is, it operates out of Minneapolis. I could probably find out for you if you want me to,”

“No,” Joanna said quickly. “I’ll give nay friend the information and let her do her own searching. If she’s that interested in going, she should do her own research, don ’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” Babe replied. “But still, if you need me to help out…”

“You’ve been a help already,” Joanna assured her. “I’ll let my friend take it from here.”

When she finished that call, she considered for only a moment before dialing Doc Winfield’s office. Since he was from Minnesota and also a doctor, Joanna thought he might know something about such an organization. When his voice mail message announced he was out of the office until five, Joanna looked up the area code for Minneapolis and dialed the number for information, asking the directory assistance operator for the number of the Minneapolis public library. It took several minutes before she was put through to a reference librarian who was willing to help.

“I’ve never heard of any such organization,” the librarian said once Joanna finished explaining what was needed. “The medical association might know about it, though, and if it’s possibly church-related, the diocese might know as well.”

For the next half hour, Joanna followed one blind lead after another. If a medical mission operation was working out of the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, someone was doing a terrific job of keeping it a total secret-something that didn’t seem the least bit likely. An organization setting out to save the world would want everyone to know about it-for fund-raising purposes if nothing else. Of course, the simplest thing to do would have been to call Katherine O’Brien herself and ask for the name and number, but Joanna knew better than that.

Instead, she called Phoenix information. After receiving yet another number, she dialed Good Samaritan Hospital and asked to be put through to the director of nursing. While waiting for someone to answer, Joanna tried to piece together a timetable. Brianna O’Brien had been eighteen years old when she died. Joanna remembered Katherine’s saying that she and David O’Brien hadn’t married until five years after she stopped working at Good Sam. That meant that the records Joanna needed would be twenty-three to twenty-five years old, if they still existed at all. She didn’t hold out much hope.

Moments later a woman’s voice came on the line. “This is Barbara Calderone, the director of nursing,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Joanna Brady. I’m the sheriff of Cochise County. We’re trying to learn something about a nurse who worked at Good Sam a number of years ago. I was wondering-”

“How many years ago?” Barbara Calderone interrupted.

“More than twenty.”

“It’s highly unlikely that we’d still have records from that long ago. We’re computerized now. It’s much easier to keep t rack of the nurses who come and go. The problem is, few of our records go back that far unless there was some kind of special circumstance. What was her name? In those days, of course, I’m assuming the nurse was a woman.”

“Ross,” Joanna said. “Katherine V. Ross.”

“One moment.”

Over the phone line came the familiar sound of a clicking keyboard as Barbara Calderone typed something into a computer. “That’s odd,” she said. “Is her birthday March 4, 1942?”

“Yes,” Joanna replied, fighting to contain the excitement in her voice.

Barbara Calderone sounded mystified. “I don’t know why, but the name’s still here, even after all this time, along with a DNH designation. There’s a notation that indicates all inquiries ore to be directed to the legal department.”