Dead to Rights

Joa

“What happened?” she asked.

“It’s too soon to tell. The fire crew is mopping up inside.

One of the firemen discovered the body. Bebe Noonan…” Voland paused long enough Io consult a notebook. “Full name’s Bianca Noonan the young woman over there with the horse-is the one who reported the fire. If you’re looking for heroes, she’s it. She found Morgan lying just inside the door to the barn and dragged him outside. She also rescued the horse.”

Following Voland’s glance, Joa

Joa

“The fire’s out, except for a couple hot spots, but we’ll have to check for structural damage before we can let anyone else go inside. I’ll let you know.”

Lowrey walked away, leaving Joa

Joa

“Well,” Voland said derisively, motioning toward the still smoldering hulk of a barn. “If you call this over, I’d hate to see wait you call an ongoing.,,

Joa

“Bebe came to work at noon,” he said. “She evidently works afternoons and most weekends. That’s her little brown Honda parked over there by Doc Buckwalter’s van. She said he parked her car, went inside the clinic, and was getting things lined up for the afternoon appointments. Bucky wasn’t here, and neither was Terry, but she didn’t think anything bout it.

“About a quarter to one or so,” Voland continued, “she looked out the window and saw smoke pouring out the door the barn. She called nine-one-one right away to report the fire and then came ru

“Smoke inhalation?” Joa

Voland nodded. “That and an egg-sized knot on the back of his head.”

“Somebody hit him then?” Joa

Voland scowled and shook his head. “Most likely he cracked the back of his head on the cement floor when he fell. Anyway, according to Ben, the fire was mostly confined to the tack room and to the hay and grain stored at the far end of the barn. It made for lots of smoke, although, as you can see, there’s not much damage to the front of the building.

Joa

“Maybe, maybe not,” Voland replied. “According to Bebe, she drives an old T-Bird. Since it’s not in the parking lot, we’re hoping she went somewhere. I’ve got people looking for her right now.”

Joa

Unable to speak, Joa

Bild-a-Barns were the construction equivalent of fast food. They came from the modular school of design and were shipped in lots made up of prefabbed numbered pieces. Once at a site, they came together like a giant Erector set, clipped together over concrete slabs and preassembled metal frames.

Bild-a-Barns came in several different styles and configurations. They could be as small as one stall and one storage room or as large as ten stalls, depending on how many sections the owner was willing to fasten together. This one was a five-stall/tack room version, giving Bucky Buckwalter enough room for Kiddo along with space left over to board four additional animals.

Joa

On that happy occasion, Bucky Buckwalter had been extraordinarily proud of the latest addition to his clinic. At the time, no one could possibly have predicted that three or four years down the road, that same barn would be the site of its owner’s death. And not just death, either, Joa

Joa

His sudden show of concern caught Joa

“No, it’s not,” Voland returned quickly, with almost no trace of his customary gruffness. “Forget what I said earlier. Sure, it’s easy as hell to have twenty-twenty hindsight in situations like this. Our manpower’s spread way too thin to have a deputy stand around all day holding some damn protester’s hand. What’s important, though, is that we’ve got the perpetrator. It’ll save Ernie the time and trouble of going looking for him.”

Trying not to betray how much Voland’s unexpected kindness had affected her, Joa

Ernest W. Carpenter-Ernie for short-was Cochise County ’s sole homicide investigator. “He and Deputy Carbajal are on their way back from working that natural-causes stiff up in Sunizona,” Voland answered. “According to Dispatch, they should be here within a matter of minutes. The last I heard, they were still fifteen miles out.”

At the far end of the parking lot, Bebe Noonan continued to work at calming the panicky horse. The two of them, woman and horse, were just beyond Bucky’s Ford Econoline van.

Joa

“Us?” Voland asked after her.

“Us,” Joa

She knew full well the need of keeping the number of crime-scene visitors to a minimum. Unfortunately, she also understood the need for people in her department and in the community at large to see her as a “real” police officer-as an active player and investigator rather than as a mere figurehead.

“If you say so,” Voland replied. Joa

“Right now I’m going to go talk to Bebe,” Joa