Outlaw Mountain

Butch shrugged. “Like I said. It’ll take some getting used to.”

Daisy came back with their drinks. Coffee and water for Joa

Nodding and beaming, Junior reached for the paper-wrapped straw on the plate beside the shake. In his eagerness, his hands trembled so much that he wasn’t able to free the straw from its wrapper. After watching him struggle for the better part of a minute, Butch reached across the table, unwrapped the straw, and stuck it into the drink.

“There you go, Junior,” Butch said. “Have a ball.”

Halfway through lunch, Junior once again a

“You’re right,” she said. “This isn’t the most romantic of engagement lunches, but I have to say, from where I’m sitting, the prospective groom is making a very good impression on the prospective bride.”

“Thanks,” he said.

When it was time to leave, the three of them gathered around the cash register near the front door while Daisy rang up their bill. “You know,” she said, “I was thinking. A couple of years ago for Christmas, our kids gave us one of those big coffee-table books, America the Beautiful, I think it’s called. It’s full of pictures from all over the country. You know, the kind of stuff people recognize-like San Xavier Mission in Tucson or the Space Needle in Seattle. I wonder if we showed it to Junior, would he recognize anything?”

“He might,” Butch said. “It’s a long shot.”

“Well, Moe’s at work up at the post office right now,” Daisy said. “As soon as he gets off, I’ll have him drop the book off here at the restaurant. That way, you can stop by and pick it up whenever you like.” She looked at Junior. “Moe’s my husband,” she explained. “He has a book-a very pretty book-with all kinds of pictures in it. Do you like pictures?”

Junior smiled and nodded. “Like pictures,” he said.

“Good, then. The book will be here waiting for you, and you can look at it however much you like.”

Some other people came in the door, and Butch led Junior out to his car. “He’s just as sweet as he can be, isn’t he,” Daisy commented, looking after them.

“Yes,” Joa

“What do you suppose happened to his family? And why haven’t they come back for him? Surely they didn’t leave him on purpose, do you think?”

“It looks that way,” Joa

“That’s awful,” Daisy said. “What kind of a low-down snake would do such a thing?”

Joa

Back in her office, Joa

She had labored in peace for the better part of an hour and felt that she was starting to make some real progress when the phone rang. “Yes, Kristin. What is it?”

“Someone to see you, Sheriff Brady. She says her name’s Monroe. Jessie Monroe. She wants to talk to you about her sister.”

“Who’s her sister?”

“Alice Rogers,” Kristin answered.

With a swipe of her arm, Joa

The woman Kristin ushered into her office was a stooped, bird-boned woman who leaned almost bent double on a walker. She was tiny and frail, but the piercing eyes she focused on Joa

“I’m Sheriff Brady,” Joa

“And you’re investigating my sister’s death-Alice Rogers’ death?”

“I’m not doing that personally,” Joa

“I suppose they’ve already spoken to that worthless niece and nephew of mine.”

“Susan Jenkins and Clete Rogers?” Joa

“But you will be talking to them.”

“My detectives will.”

“Well, then,” Jessie Monroe said. “I want you to give them a piece of my mind.”

Jessie’s walker had what looked like a bicycle basket attached between the two handles. At that point, Jessie reached into the basket, pulled out a clothbound book and dropped it onto Joa

“What’s this?”

“What does it look like?” Jessie demanded. “It’s a book.”

Joa

“Your sister wrote this?” Joa

Jessie Monroe nodded. “Paid good money to have it printed, too. She wanted people to know about her, about who she really was. I watch all those programs on TV,” Jessie continued. “You know the ones-’Law and Order’ and all those other things they call police dramas. It seems to me, the dead people never get to tell their side of the story. The people in authority only learn what the people who are left want to tell them, which may or may not be the truth. I wanted someone to know what Alice thought instead of hearing what her kids think she thought. There’s a big difference, you know. A big difference.”

“Won’t you please sit down,” Joa

“A glass of water would be nice. I am feeling a bit parched.”

Joa

“Fond? Absolutely not. They’re both next thing to worthless. Cletus never amounted to a hill of beans. How he ever got himself elected mayor is more than I’ll ever know. Susan always drank like a fish. Still does, as far as I know. And then she went and married that long-haired freak who sells cars out in Sierra Vista. Have you ever seen him?”

“I’ve met him,” Joa

“He doesn’t do a thing for me,” Jessie Monroe a

“Custer?” Joa

“General George Armstrong Custer. Except I don’t suppose he ever wore earrings,” Jessie sniffed. “Ross Jenkins does, you know. Two or three to an ear.”

Kristin came in with water. Jessie took the glass, emptied it with several long unladylike gulps, and then handed it back. “Thank you,” she said. “Much obliged. Now, then, to get back to Alice. She was the baby of the family. I’m the oldest. Eleven years difference between us. But even with the age difference, we were always friends and I always looked out for her. Some of my brothers and sisters I can pretty much take or leave, but Alice and I were good friends. You know what I mean?”

Joa

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Jessie Monroe’s eyes misted with tears. She groped in her pocket and found a hankie. “You’ll have to excuse me. I still haven’t quite accepted the idea that she’s gone. I always assumed I’d be the one who’d go first, you see. Anyway, Susan called me this morning. She’s the ‘full of business’ one in the family. She called to let me know what had happened. She said Alice had been killed up near Tucson. She said the authorities seem to think some young Mexican boys did it, although Susan seems to have her own ideas on that score.”