J. Jance - Desert Heat

It was also the key to survival. Angie understood that if Tony had even the slightest glimmer that she knew the truth about him, that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Every time he looked at her, she was petrified that her face would somehow betray her, giving away to him the thoughts she meant to keep hidden in her head.

If she was going to get away, it would have be soon, before Tony learned her secret, while she could still take his money and use it as a grubstake. But regardless of how much money there was, she doubted there would ever be enough for her to get away from him completely. The only way he’d ever leave her alone was if he was dead or in jail. Dead didn’t seem likely, and thugs like Tony got out of jail all the time. And as soon as he got out, knew he’d be after her. He’d be vicious as bulldog, and just as relentless. She didn’t dare think about what he’d do if he ever caught her.

If she did come up with a plan for getting away, she’d have to come up with a foolproof plan for getting rid of Tony as well. She couldn’t see herself holding a gun on him and pulling the trigger, but she needed something every bit as permanent as a well-placed bullet something that wouldn’t land her in jail well.

“Angie,” he bellowed from the other room. She jumped as though she’d been shot. He was awake early and wanting her. Lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard the click of the cigarette lighter.

“Did you start the coffee?”

“Not yet. I will in a minute.”

“Bring me the paper,” he ordered, “and turn on the TV set in here. I wish to hell 1’d asked for that television repairman to come today instead of Saturday. This worthless little set sucks. It’s so goddamned small a man could go blind just trying to see what’s on it. And hurry up with the coffee.”

Finished organizing her list, Joanna had started to gather her keys and purse when Sa die, her canine early-warning system, began to bark. Joanna checked outside just in time to two Cochise County sheriff’s vehicles stopping in front of her gate. Two men walked toward her back door-Chief Deputy Richard Voland and Ernie Carpenter, Cochise County ’s chief homicide detective.

Joanna knew Dick Voland pretty well. Not Ernie Carpenter. Around the department he had the unenviable reputation of being an unbending, humorless prig who nonetheless usually got his man. In a world of bola ties and sons, he was the only officer on Walter Fadden’s staff who consistently showed up work wearing knotted ties and three-piece suits.

Andy hadn’t particularly liked the man, and neither did Joanna. Aloof and rigid, a stickler for rules, Carpenter seemed to hold himself above it all, from interdepartmental politics to volleyball games at the annual picnic at Turkey Creek. Moments earlier, Joanna might have dreaded seeing Detective Carpenter, but now, full of this latest bit of information from Dr. Sanders, she was eager to tell what she knew. Quieting the noisy dog, she closed Sadie in Jenny’s room and then hurried back to kitchen to open the door.

“Good morning, Joanna,” Voland said, politely tipping his hat. “Hope we’re not catching you at a bad time.”

“No. Come on in.”

From the distressed looks on their faces, it was apparent that neither one of the officers relished the coming encounter. The death of a fellow officer was always hard on all concerned. Thinking it would ease the situation, Joanna blurted out her news from Dr. Sanders. “Andy’s surgeon from Tucson just called. He told me he thinks Andy was murdered.”

To her surprise, neither Carpenter nor Voland seemed much interested in her news. “Really,” Carpenter mused. “What makes him say that?”

“He saw preliminary results from the autopsy. They don’t have a toxicology report yet, but Dr. Sanders seems to think Andy died of a possible drug overdose, that someone slipped Andy something lethal right there in the hospital under everyone’s very noses.”

Carpenter shook his head and smiled indulgently. “That’s all very interesting, Joanna. Sounds like something straight out of a soap opera to me, but we have to take these things one step at a time. We need to ask you a few questions if you have time.”

She nodded. Looking at the two burly men looming over her in the kitchen, Joanna knew they wouldn’t be well suited to the tight-fitting benches of the breakfast nook. “Come on into the dining room,” she said.

As they seated themselves around the table, Dick Voland seemed especially uncomfortable. “I hate to bother you at a time like this. I’m sure you’re real busy today, but since we couldn’t visit with you yesterday…”

“It’s all right,” Joanna assured them, determined to be cooperative and do what she could to help. “I understand you’ve got your jobs to do. And after talking to Dr. Sanders, I’m ready to talk. Would anybody like coffee?”

Both men shook their heads in silent unison. Their joint refusal unnerved her a little. It wouldn’t have hurt them to observe some social niceties, and it puzzled Joanna that they both seemed to give so little credence to Dr. Sanders’ mind-boggling news.

“What’s really going on?” she asked.

“Suppose we cut directly to the chase, Joanna,” Ernie Carpenter said at once. “Can you tell us where Andy was weekend before last?”

She answered without hesitation. “Payson. Outside of Payson, actually, visiting with a friend. Floyd Demaris is his name, but everyone calls him Pookie. He and Andy graduated from the police academy in Phoenix together, but Pookie got shot while he was still a rookie. He’s in a wheelchair and back living with his folks. He always loved the outdoors. Once each September, before it got too cold, he an Andy would go camping.”

“And, as far as you know, that’s what they did?” Detective Carpenter asked.

“As far as I know?” Joanna echoed. “You’ saying Andy didn’t go there?”

Sitting with a Cross ever-sharp pencil poised above a blank page in a meticulously kept notebook, Ernie Carpenter abruptly changed the subject. “How many guns did Andy own?”

“Two,” Joanna answered. “The.38 Chief and his.357.”

“So you’re aware he had two separate weapons?”

“Of course, I’m aware of that,” Joanna returned shortly. “Guns were the tools of Andy’s trade. Those are the kinds of things married couples usually know about each other. He carried the.357 with his uniform and wore the Chief with civilian clothes because it’s so much smaller and easier to carry.”

“So you would have expected him to take the Chief with him for the weekend rather than the.357?”

“That’s right.”

“Didn’t you find it odd that he always left one or the other of those two weapons in locker down at the department?”

“What’s odd about it?” Joanna asked.

Carpenter looked her right in the eye. “I take mine home,” he said.

“Do you have any little children at home?” she returned.

“Not anymore.”

“We do. The day Jennifer was born Andy spent most of the day in the waiting room of County Hospital with the distraught parents of a little girl who’d been playing with her father’s pistol. Remember that?”

Both officers nodded. “She died, didn’t?” Detective Carpenter asked.

“That’s right, she did. And it made quite an impression on Andy and me. He always said keeping track of one handgun was trouble enough. He didn’t want to risk having two in the house at the same time. None of this was exactly a state secret, so why all the questions about Andy’s guns? What do they have to do with the price of peanuts?”

Carpenter dropped his gaze as he made a quick notation in his notebook. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now about Lefty O’Toole’s death, haven’t you?”