Partner In Crime

Joa

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” the young woman answered hurriedly. “Shaundra’s fine. The thing is, the only time we could get in for the ultrasound was late yesterday afternoon. We went right after the church service ended. By the time we finished up at the hospital, it was too late to go to the graveside service. I was too beat to go to the reception, so Terry and I just stayed home. But I didn’t want you to think we didn’t come because…” Kristin’s voice trailed off uneasily.

When Joa

In the months since, Joa

“You didn’t want me to think you missed the reception because of what?” Joa

“You know,” Kristin said with an uneasy shrug. “Because of what’s going on around here.”

“You mean because of Deputy Galloway?”

Kristin nodded. “That’s right. Neither Terry nor I wanted to have anything to do with him and his buddies,” she said quickly. “But four forty-five was the only time we could schedule the ultrasound, and the doctor was later than that. I just wanted you to know, Sheriff Brady – whatever those guys in the union are trying to pull, Terry and I aren’t involved. If we had known what was going to happen – that everybody else was going to stay away like they did – we would have come no matter what!”

A wave of relief washed over Joa

“The baby’s welfare has to be your first priority,” Joa

“I don’t know,” Kristin said, shaking her head. “Not really. I asked Terry the same thing this morning on the way to work. He thinks most of the guys are just messing around and that we shouldn’t pay any attention to them. But how could they do something like that – ditch the cemetery and the reception, I mean? And what about Leon Cañedo? How do those jerks think their staying away made him feel?” Kristin demanded, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion. “What would they think if somebody did something like that to their wives or kids?”

Joa

“Some people are simply incapable of putting themselves in anybody else’s shoes, Kristin,” she said finally. “Empathy won’t ever be one of Deputy Galloway’s long suits. But if it will put your mind at ease, I think Leon Cañedo was so overwhelmed by everything that was going on yesterday, he probably didn’t notice who was there and who wasn’t. Ken Junior may have drained off everyone he could bamboozle into not showing up, but it was still standing room only in the parish hall up at St. Dominick’s for most of the evening.”

Kristin heaved another sigh, this one of relief. “Good. I’m really glad.” Saying that, she pushed her unwieldy body upright. “Now that I know you’re here,” she said, “I’ll go get your messages.”

Joa

“Not yet. Give me a while.”

Nodding, Kristin went out, closing the door behind her. Joa

With an air of impatience she pushed that one aside. After all, it wasn’t anywhere near twelve yet. What would make him think she’d forget? She glanced at her watch. It was only twenty past eleven – plenty of time.

When it came to returning phone calls, Joa

“Why, there you are,” Eleanor Lathrop Winfield said. “I’m so glad you called back. I just had the strangest conversation with Marliss Shackleford.”

The fact that her mother was a longtime bosom buddy of The Bisbee Bee’s featured columnist was one of the crosses Sheriff Joa

“Marliss asked me why there were so few Cochise County deputies in attendance at the funeral reception yesterday evening,” Eleanor was saying. “I told her she had to be mistaken. I was there myself. It seemed to me there were plenty of people in uniform, all of them plowing through that buffet like they hadn’t eaten in days.”

Hardly any of those starving uniforms belonged to me, Joa

“Really,” she said, feigning as much i

“See there?” Eleanor responded, sounding relieved. “I tried to tell Marliss that very thing – that she had to be mistaken, but you know her. Sometimes you have to hit that woman over the head with a baseball bat to get through to her.”

Hitting Marliss Shackleford over the head with anything sounded like an excellent idea to Sheriff Joa

“I’d best be going,” Eleanor went on briskly. “I just spoke to George. He’s finished up with whatever it was he had to do this morning. He’s coming home for lunch. I should get it on the table. The egg salad is ready, but I haven’t made sandwiches yet.”

That, too, was vintage Eleanor Lathrop. The “whatever” George Winfield had to do that morning was to perform an autopsy. How like Eleanor simply to gloss over and/or ignore anything remotely unpleasant. Her husband’s title might be that of Cochise County Medical Examiner, but in Eleanor’s self-centered world, none of his professional duties were any more important than the egg-salad sandwiches she pla