J. Jance - Partner In Crime

“What about?”

Joanna thought about those first stormy years in her previous marriage. She and Andy had both been young, and having a child only a few months after the wedding had added a whole other dimension to the usual newlyweds conflicts. For years, there had always been too little money and too many bills. Thinking back, it seemed to Joanna that she and Andy had fought about almost everything – about whether or not he had filled the car with gas the last time he drove it, about why he was late for dinner or hadn’t picked up his dirty clothes, and why he always seemed to leave an unsightly sprinkle of whiskers in the bathroom sink. Then, after five years or so, things had smoothed out. Joanna and Andy had made it to their tenth anniversary and most likely would have made it longer if only…

“A lot of little things, I guess,” Joanna said finally. “Things that I see now weren’t important enough to fight over in the first place.”

“I never heard you fight,” Jenny said wistfully. “Or if I did, I don’t remember.”

“Good,” Joanna returned, meaning it. Her relationship with Roy Andrew Brady hadn’t been all good or all bad. Neither was her relationship with Butch Dixon. Jenny needed to have a more realistic idea of how the world worked.

“It’s better to forget quarrels than it is to remember them,” Joanna added.

Then, as they stepped off the rail and started toward the house, Butch drove into the yard. Again the dogs rode in the back with their heads thrust out the open windows.

As soon as Butch opened the door, the two dogs leaped out and gamboled over to Jenny. Only after greeting her did they make for their water.

“I see you let them ride again,” Joanna said, walking up to kiss him hello. If he was still angry about the train situation, it didn’t show.

He kissed her back and then frowned at the dogs. “I remembered what you said about spoiling them,” he said. “I tried to get them to run home, but Sadie wasn’t having any of it. She lay down in the middle of the road and wouldn’t budge. I had to go back and get her. Once she was in the car, Tigger wanted to ride, too.”

“It’s all right,” Joanna said. “I was teasing.”

Butch glanced down at Joanna’s clothing and then checked his watch. “It’s only five now. How long have you been home?”

Joanna shrugged. “A couple of hours. Jenny and I have been cleaning Kiddo’s stall and putting out hay.”

“Why so early?”

“I gave myself part of the afternoon off,” she said.

“How come?”

“Politics,” she said.

“I see,” Butch said. “Come tell me about it while I fix dinner.”

Inside the house, Jenny and the dogs disappeared into her room. Relieved that things were better with Butch, Joanna sat in the breakfast nook and sipped at a soda while he hustled around the kitchen. There was no point in asking if she could help. Years of being a short-order cook made Butch’s culinary efforts far superior to Joanna’s limited skills in that regard. His movements were quick, decisive, and economical.

Joanna told him everything – about the Rochelle Baxter/ Latisha Wall case as well as the difficult board of supervisors meeting and Marliss Shackleford’s hurtful column. Somehow, though, she neglected to mention the heart-to-heart she and Jenny had shared outside Kiddo’s corral.

“It sounds like Marliss is throwing her lot in with your opposition,” Butch said when she finished relating the part about the column. “Any idea who that’s going to be?”

“Not really,” Joanna said. “I have my suspicions. It was Ken Galloway who raised such a stink about Yolanda’s Fallen Officer funeral. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s Marliss Shackleford’s ‘unnamed source.’ “

Butch stopped with a half-peeled potato in one hand and the paring knife in the other. “Do you think Galloway might run against you?” he asked.

Joanna nodded. “It’s possible.”

“That’s my guess, too,” Butch agreed.

The phone rang, and Joanna hurried to answer it. “Howdy, boss,” Jaime Carbajal said. “Sorry to bother you at home.”

“It’s all right. What’s up?”

“I had an appointment to finish my interview with Dee Canfield today. Like I told you, I did a preliminary with her yesterday, but she was so anxious about getting ready for the show that she barely paid attention to my questions. Since she was so distracted, I made an appointment to see her this afternoon at the gallery.”

“And?”

“She wasn’t there. Her boyfriend wasn’t, either. The place is still closed up tight, just like it was last night. The sign’s still on the door. There were two notices – one from FedEx and one from UPS – saying they had attempted deliveries.”

Joanna felt a twinge of concern. She had been pleased to hear Dee had canceled the show, thinking the gallery owner had come to her senses. Now there was a far more ominous possibility. Only one person in town had been absolutely determined to shut down that grand-opening party.

“Did you go by her house?” Joanna asked. “Maybe she’s ill.”

“Sure did. She lives on Cochise Drive out in Huachuca Terraces. I stopped by twice,” Jaime said. “Nobody was home. The blinds are down and the curtains closed. Something’s not right here, Sheriff. I have a really bad feeling about it. If there’s still no sign of her or Warren Gibson by tomorrow morning, I should probably get search warrants and go through both the house and the gallery.”

“Maybe they decided to take a few days off,” Joanna suggested.

“I doubt that,” Jaime said. “For one thing, I talked to Gina Dodd at Desert Stairs Catering. Dee hired Gina to supply the food for last night’s party. The first Gina knew about the cancellation was when she showed up with a vanful of food and found the sign on the gallery door. Gina says Dee never would have done that without calling. She says that’s not the way Dee Canfield does business. Gina’s convinced something is terribly wrong.”

“Do you think Gina Dodd’s word will be enough for you to get a search warrant? And will you be able to get one on Saturday morning?”

“By the time I talked to Phyllis Kelly, Judge Moore’s clerk, he was gone for the day,” Jaime replied. “He and his wife have a dinner engagement in Tucson. I’ll have to catch up with him in the morning. Phyllis says I can bring the paperwork by his house then.”

“Did you talk to Bobo Jenkins about any of this?” Joanna asked. “He had a disagreement with Dee Canfield over Rochelle Baxter’s show, but I believe he and Dee have been friends for a long time. Maybe he knows where Dee and Warren might have gone off to.”

“I didn’t actually talk to Bobo today,” Jaime said. “What I got instead was a call from Burton Kimball. He says he’ll be along for the ride when Bobo Jenkins comes to talk to us at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Joanna was surprised. “Bobo’s bringing Cochise County’s premier defense attorney along for the interview? How come?”

“You tell me. I told Mr. Kimball all we want is to ask Bobo a few routine questions. Burton hinted that he thought our reasons for wanting to talk to his client were possibly politically or racially motivated.”

“Politically or racially motivated?” Joanna repeated. “What kind of nonsense is that?”

“I’ve heard talk that Bobo Jenkins is thinking of running for mayor,” Jaime offered.

“He can run for governor, for all I care,” Joanna shot back, angered by the implication. “Bobo is one of the last people who saw Latisha Wall alive. He was also raising hell in Castle Rock Gallery yesterday morning, not long before Dee Canfield and Warren Gibson disappeared. Of course we need to talk to him. That’s not race or politics; that’s police work. If Bobo feels a need to have Burton Kimball along to hold his hand, it’s his problem, not ours.”