Partner In Crime

“You talked to Detective Carbajal today?” Joa

“Oh, no. Not Jaime – that other fellow, the big one with the salt-and-pepper crew cut. He must be new. I don’t remember ever seein’ him around before. Can’t tell you his name, but I’m sure you know who I mean.”

Joa

“What all did you tell him?” she asked.

“Nothin’ much. About that fight the other day, the one you had to break up. I was surprised that he didn’t seem to know nothin’ about it.”

I’m not, Joa

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to him this afternoon,” she said i

Harvey Dowd took a final, thoughtful drag on the end of his cigarette, then he dropped the stub into the gutter and ground it out with the sole of his boot. “Had a long talk again this evening with that nice black lady, the one whose sister was killed down in Naco earlier this week. She keeps coming by hoping to get a look at her sister’s paintings, but, of course, nobody’s been there.”

Cornelia Lester, Joa

“She was all wore out from walking so far uphill,” Harve Dowd continued. “She’s from Georgia, you see. She’s not accustomed to this here elevation of ours. My shop was closed for the day, but I let her come in and sit a spell in one of my old rockers until she got her breath back. I offered to bring my car down from the parking lot and give her a ride back to the hotel, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said walking was fine.”

Harve paused long enough to shake another cigarette out of his pack of Camels. “What about that boyfriend of Dee’s?” he asked.

“So far there’s no sign of him,” Joa

Sheltering a flickering match with his cupped hand, Harvey Dowd lit his next cigarette. “Not surprised,” he drawled when he finished. “I’m guessing you’re not go

“You think Warren Gibson is underhanded?” Joa

“When I’m out prospecting in the desert, which I do every now and again, I sometimes get this fu

“Warren Gibson’s the first human being ever who gives me that same kind of snaky feeling. It happened right off, the first time Dee introduced us, and for no real reason I can explain.”

“He makes you feel snaky?” Joa

Harvey Dowd nodded. “Not exactly the same, but sort of. Like he’s dangerous or somethin’, although he never done nothin’ to me and never said anything out of line, so I could be mistaken about the man. Like I said, it’s just a feelin’.”

“Did you ever mention any of this to Deidre Canfield?”

Harve shook his head. “Did you ever have any dealings with that woman?”

“A few,” Joa

“I liked old Dee well enough, but she could be a screaming meemie when she wanted to. She seemed to think the sun rose and set on that man of hers, so far be it from me to try to tell her otherwise. Like I told you before, I’m not the gossipin’ kind. If I’d a told Dee Canfield that Warren was two-timing her, she would’ve bit my head clean off.”

“Two-timing?” Joa

“Didn’t see,” Harvey Dowd corrected. “Heard. Maybe not even heard, either, as far as that goes, but I’m as sure of it as I’m standing here. Why else would someone, with a perfectly good phone at home and another one right there in the gallery, spend so much time standing around on Main Street yakkin’ away on a pay phone? Maybe I’m all wet. Maybe it’s not a girlfriend, but I saw him talking on those pay phones down by the post office a lot – well out of Dee’s sight, you see. And what crossed my mind at the time was that, whoever it was he was talking to and whatever he was up to, he sure as hell didn’t want Dee Canfield to know about it.”

Joa

Thanking Harvey Dowd for his help, Joa

With that call completed, Joa

Across the street, through a tiny park, and up a concrete stairway, Joa

With a sigh, Joa

Walking around the sheltering stairway, Joa

All afternoon, the man had dogged her heels. Now he was interviewing Latisha Wall’s sister. Refusing to give way to a budding temper tantrum and steeling herself to be civil, Joa

IF LOOKS COULD KILL, I would have keeled over dead when Joa

“Thank you,” Cornelia said graciously. “I take it you and Mr. Beaumont here already know each other?”

Joa

Settling into a nearby chair, Joa

Cornelia Lester didn’t blink. “Who?” she asked.

“Deidre Canfield.”

“The woman who owns the gallery?”

Joa

“If she’s dead, too,” Cornelia speculated, “and if she and my sister were friends, then her death must have something to do with Tizzy’s, don’t you think? I’m sorry, Sheriff Brady. I mean with Latisha’s. Tizzy is what we always called my sister back home. But tell me, please, is there any progress now?”