Dead to Rights

“Does that mean Bucky was having an affair?” she asked.

Carpenter shrugged. “Maybe. Either that, or he was hoping to or seeing professionals. Whichever, it does throw a somewhat different light on the situation. And it opens us up to the idea that things around here might he somewhat more complicated than they look.”

Joa

“What if Terry doesn’t know anything about the possibility that her husband was messing around on her?” Joa

Carpenter seemed unconcerned. “She’s bound to find out eventually,” he said.

“Not necessarily,” Joa

“As in ignorance is bliss?” Ernie asked.

“No,” Joa

Ernie gave Joa

“Right,” Joa

Ernie Carpenter was one of the homicide detectives who come to Joa

Ernie Carpenter looked down and examined his feet. “A good cop was dead,” he said huskily. “In what had been made to look like a suicide. Maybe I was a little overzealous, but it was my job to figure out what had happened. I’ve been sorry about that ever since.”

Joa

At least Ernie Carpenter did Joa

“That’s different from having the information come from you or from someone in my department,” Joa

Ernie Carpenter shook his grizzled head. “I can’t promise it won’t come up,” he said at last. “But I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Detective Carpenter,” Joa

By three o’clock, the crime-scene investigation was pretty well complete. Ernie had retreated into the clinic’s restroom to change back into his street clothes, and Joa

Deputy Dave Hollicker had been stationed at the clinic’s entrance all afternoon, telling whoever tried to turn into the parking lot-potential clients and gawkers alike-that they would have to come back some other time.

As soon as Deputy Hollicker waved the T-Bird to a stop, Joa

As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Dick Voland had issued orders that no information was to be released by anyone other than Frank Montoya, the public information officer. Dave Hollicker was exceptionally good about obeying orders.

When Joa

“It’s all right, Deputy Hollicker,” Joa

They moved forward that way, with Terry Buckwalter driving the T-Bird as Joa

Not knowing where to begin, Joa

“I know that,” Terry replied impatiently. “A fire in the barn. Somebody who knows I golf at Rob Roy in the afternoons called out there and spoke to Esther Thomas, the lady who runs the restaurant. Esther sent Tom out on the course to find me and let me know. I can see the barn from here. From the way it sounded, I expected it to he a complete loss, but it doesn’t look that bad. So what’s the problem? Why all the fuss?”

She glanced off in the direction of the barn. “I’ve told Bucky a thousand times not to smoke in the barn, but he never listens to me.” Parking in the empty space next to Bebe Noonan’s Honda, Terry jammed down on the emergency brake and then stepped out of the car, leaving the door open and the keys in the ignition.

“Terry,” Joa

“Arson,” Terry repeated with a puzzled frown. “Why would anyone want to do that? And what does Bucky think about all this?”

“I’m afraid things are much worse than they look. About Bucky…”

“What about him? Where is he?”

Joa

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Terry, but your husband is dead.”

As soon as Joa

Seeing Terry’s reaction, Joa

“Dead?” Terry repeated, as though in a daze and n t quite capable of grasping the word. “You’re saying Bucky is dead?”

Joa

Terry Buckwalter leaned back against the headrest of the seat, momentarily closing her eyes. Joa

“How can that be?” Terry murmured. “He was fine when I left at noon. What happened?”

“We won’t know for sure about that until after the autopsy.”

The word “autopsy” seemed to be a catalyst. Terry grasped the steering wheel with both hands and pulled her-self up straight. Since she still hadn’t taken the keys out of the ignition, a hollow bell-like tone was bonging out some internal warning signal. The racket was driving Joa