Desert Heat

“No. I’d much rather have you there with Je

“Call if you need me,” Maria

“Thanks, Mari. I will.”

After hanging up, Joa

Again, the walk back to the hospital seemed to take forever. As she entered the lobby, she felt shabby and dirty and ill at ease. She felt even more so when a well-dressed young woman fell into step beside her.

“Mrs. Brady. Could I please have a word with you?”

The woman was a stranger yet she seemed to know Joa

“Sue Rolles. I’m a reporter with the Arizona Daily Sun.”

“What do you want?”

“About your husband’s suicide…”

“Murder,” Joa

“But I was under the impression that the case was being investigated as a suicide.”

Joa

“Andrew Brady was murdered,” Joa

“I’m here to tell you that Andrew Brady never shot himself in the gut. He wouldn’t have done something like that in the first place, and even if he had, he never would have done it where I’d most likely be the one to find him.”

Properly chastised, the reporter moved back a step just as Ken Galloway materialized out of nowhere.

“What’s going on?” he asked, extricating himself from a crush of homeward-bound people exiting an elevator.

Joa

“Who’s this?” Ken asked, nodding toward Sue Rolles.

“A reporter,” Joa

“Maybe you’d better go,” Ken Galloway said hurriedly to Sue Rolles. “I think Mrs. Brady has had about all she can handle for one day.” To Joa

He started away, but Joa

“I’ll be up in a little while,” Joa

“But what should I tell your mother? She’s waiting to give you a ride home,” Ken explained. “She said you rode up here with Sheriff McFadden last night and that you didn’t have a way back to Bisbee.”

Wearily Joa

“Well enough to know how much of a pain she can be at times. You may think I’m a terrible daughter, but I’m just not up to riding home with her right now. Too much has happened. I need some time to sort my way through things, some time to think without her constantly yammering at me. You’re here, Ken. You have a car, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe this sounds crazy, but couldn’t I ride back home with you? Be a friend. Go upstairs and tell my mother that I’ve got things to do. Make something up if you have to. Tell her I’ve got to go see the Medical Examiner or talk to someone from the Tucson PD. Tell her anything, whatever you want. Just so I don’t have to ride in the same car with her for the next two hours. I couldn’t stand it.”

Ken nodded sympathetically. “Sure,” he said. “I understand. There are times when the last thing you need is a mother. You go on over to the billing department and do what-ever you have to do. Then wait for me down in the cafeteria. I’ll come get you as soon as she’s gone. Is that all right?”

Joa

“No,” Ken Galloway said with a pained expression on his face. “You forget. You’ve been away from the hospital for the last two hours. I’ve spent that whole time upstairs in the waiting room with your mother and her pal Margaret Turnbull. I know exactly what you mean.”

Ken hurried back to the bank of elevators and Joa

Having done all that, she made her way to the cafeteria. By this time it was late afternoon and the place was deserted except for a few stray hospital workers taking off-hour breaks. She bought herself a cup of coffee and took it to a table near the door.

Too tired to feel guilty about ditching her mother and too wrung out to feel apologetic about her outburst with the young reporter, Joa

Ken Galloway turned up, startling her out of her reverie by placing the battered suitcase on the table in front of her.

“Your mother’s gone,” he a

Joa

“No problem. I understand completely.” He settled down on the chair opposite her and earnestly studied her face. “You look like hell. How’re you doing?”