Dead to Rights

Those insights all washed over Joa

There could be no doubt that, in spite of it all, D. H. Lathrop had continued to love his wife. The reverse-Eleanor’s love for Big Hank-wasn’t as easy to discern. Big Hank had managed to maintain the relationship by learning to disregard the hurtful things that came out of Eleanor’s mouth.

Unfortunately, that simple survival trick was one his daughter had yet to master.

Joa

“That’s fu

Seventeen years later, Joa

On the way, she radioed to the department to see if Ernie Carpenter could meet her there. Unfortunately, Dispatch reported that he was still up in Sunizona. Putting the radio mike back in its clip, Joa

That’s all right, she told herself. I’ll make like the Little Red Hen, and I’ll do it myself.

Once inside the hospital, she saw Deputy Debbie Howell stationed in the hallway outside the door of Hal Morgan private room. Instead of going directly to the room, Joa

“What can I do for you, Joa

“I’m here to see Hal Morgan.”

Mavis shook her head. “Dr. Lee says no visitors. He’s over in the clinic, if you want to talk to him about it. Until I get the okay from him, nobody goes in the room.”

Nodding, Joa

Lee, a Taiwanese immigrant and a recent medical school graduate, was only an inch or two taller than Joa

“Yes?” he answered.

Joa

“Another officer was here?” Joa

“A big man,” Dr. Lee told her. “Voland, I believe was his name. He, too, carried a badge.”

“Dick Voland is one of my deputies,” Joa

Dr. Lee drew himself up to his full height. “I do not care for his bedside ma

Joa

“Mr. Morgan has had a severe blow to the back of his head,” Dr. Lee replied. “He needs his rest. You promise not to take too long?”

“I promise,” Joa

“Very well,” Dr. Lee returned. “I will call Mrs. Embry and let her know.”

When Joa

Deputy Debbie Howell, stationed directly outside the door to Hal Morgan’s room, was a single mom and a relatively new hire in the department. As a consequence, she was low-man on Dick Voland’s patrol roster. She greeted Joa

“Good afternoon, deputy,” Joa

Deputy Howell shrugged. “B-o-r-i-n-g,” she answered. “The only people who’ve been in or out so far are doctors and nurses. No other visitors at all.”

In fact, a printed “No Visitors” sign had been affixed to the door frame. “I’ve spoken to Dr. Lee,” Joa

Hal Morgan lay on his back on the bed. His head was swathed in bandages. At first Joa

“Mr. Morgan?” Joa

Frowning, he turned to look at her. For a moment Joa

“Sheriff… Sheriff…” Morgan struggled.

“Brady,” Joa

He nodded and then grimaced, as though even that small movement had pained him. But when he spoke, his voice emerged with surprisingly clarity and force.

“I don’t care what that Voland character says,” Hal Morgan told her. “I didn’t kill Amos Buckwalter.”

There was a single chair next to the window. Joa

“Wait a minute, Sheriff Brady,” Morgan said with sudden wariness. “I put in my twenty years. Voland already told me I’m a suspect. There’s an armed deputy stationed outside my door. I’m not talking to anyone-you included-without having an attorney present.”

“Do you have one?” Joa

Morgan frowned. “Do I have one what?”

“An attorney,” Joa

Reaching into her pocket, Joa

“The name of that defense attorney,” Joa

Morgan lowered the card and stared at Joa

Joa

Momentary anger flickered in Hal Morgan’s deep-set eyes. “Look,” he said, “if this is one of those good cop/bad cop deals, forget it. It’s not going to work. I’ve played that game myself a time or two. No matter what you say or do, I still didn’t kill Amos Buckwalter.”

“I didn’t say you did,” Joa