Devil’s Claw

“Yes, but-”

“No buts, Casey. This is important. Mr. Voland is to have your full cooperation. Is that clear?”

“Yes. I’ll get right on it.”

“Wait, Casey. Before you go, I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Have you had a chance to lift any prints off the water jugs Jaime Carbajal brought in from the Cochise Stronghold crime scene on Friday?”

“I tried,” Casey replied. “But there weren’t any.”

“Not one? That’s odd.”

“Yes, I thought so, too. I’ve looked at several sets of those water jugs over the months I’ve been here,” Casey said. “I’ve never seen one with no prints on it before. Since when did UDAs start either wearing gloves or wiping their jugs clean?”

“They don’t as far as I know,” Joa

“Right,” Casey said. “It’s something that doesn’t fit. One of the jugs still had some water in it. I’ve taken that down to the lab and asked Ernesto to check on it and see if he can tell where it came from.”

“Probably from a well in Old Mexico or from somebody’s stock tank somewhere between Pearce and the border.”

“But how many towns in Mexico chlorinate and fluoridate their water?” Casey asked back.

“Not many,” Joa

“Maybe,” Casey said. “Ernesto’s making some follow-up phone calls on that right now.”

“Good work, Casey. Have him call me with his results. In the meantime, give Dick Voland whatever assistance he needs.”

“Will do,” Casey replied.

Sitting on the far side of Joa

“Casey likes the print lab,” Joa

“Sheriff Brady?” Once again Kristin’s disembodied voice came over the intercom. “Is Chief Deputy Montoya still in there?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell him that Marliss Shackleford is out in the public lobby waiting to speak to him?”

Frank stood up. “Time to go earn my keep,” he said. “Why do you suppose she wants to talk to me?”

“The last I heard, you were still our Media Relations officer,” Joa

“Media Relations!” Frank snorted, heading for the door. “For this I ought to qualify for hazardous-duty pay.”

CHAPTER 12

The bell on Joa

“So how is my partner in crime this morning?” George Winfield asked. “According to Reba Singleton, you and I are schemers of the first water-conflict of interest, collusion. The woman seems to have a whole laundry list of grievances. Is there anything you and I aren’t guilty of?”

“How’s it going, George?” Joa

She felt more than a little guilty about talking to him. Despite his having left two separate messages on Saturday, all of Sunday had passed without Joa

Sheriff Joa

“Does Mother know what Reba Singleton is up to?” Joa

“Not exactly,” George admitted. “At least not yet. I didn’t want to discuss it with her and get her all wound up until you and I had a chance to talk. However, I just left Madame Singleton in the courthouse lobby in what can best be described as a state of high dudgeon. The way the grapevine works around here, it’s probably only a matter of hours before Ellie hears about it and the you-know-what hits the fan. What’s this about the FBI’s being expected to ride to Reba’s rescue at any moment?”

“As far as I know,” Joa

“Dick Voland?” George Winfield asked. “Your ex-chief deputy?”

“That’s the one.”

“What is he now, a PI?”

“Right again. He was here at the department just a few minutes ago picking up fingerprints records on me. You see, since I’m the one who found the body, my prints are on Clayton’s ignition key.”

“Why, that ungrateful son of a bitch!”

“George,” Joa

“Seeking a court order to require me to have another autopsy done by an outside medical examiner-with the county paying the tab, of course. She lost. Superior Court Judge Cameron Moore told her to take a hike. Then, once the hearing was over, she demanded that I release her father’s body immediately, along with my results and tissue samples so she can hot-foot it up to Tucson for a second-opinion autopsy which she’ll pay for.”

“What did you tell her?”

“ ”No dice, lady. You can’t have it both ways.“ If she wants a second opinion, fine. She’s more than welcome to one. But I’m not sending my results out of town. And I’m not releasing tissue samples, either. That means Clayton Rhodes’ body stays in my morgue until Ms. Singleton’s second-opinion autopsy is complete. She wanted to know what she’s supposed to do about a funeral. I told her that depends on how soon she can find some circuit-riding ME to come down here to Bisbee to do it. If Reba Singleton wants accountability, I’ll show her accountability. In spades.”

George Winfield wasn’t joking now. He was hot. Joa

“I’m sorry I got you into all this, George,” she murmured.

“You?” he demanded. “How did you get me into anything? Did you have any idea you were a beneficiary under Clayton Rhodes’ will?”

“No.”

“The man died of a cerebral hemorrhage, Joa