Devil’s Claw

Bearing all that in mind, it was hardly surprising that Lucy Ridder was a loner. Her father was dead, and now so was her mother. And all those years she had lived with Catherine Yates-all during the time when the awful pain of losing her father would have been at its peak-Lucy had been in the care and keeping of someone who more or less thought Tom Ridder got what he deserved-of someone who thought Lucy’s father’s killer was being wrongly imprisoned. That had to have hurt. And even if it was true that Tom Ridder had physically abused his wife, it might not have made any difference to his daughter’s broken heart. It seemed clear enough to Joa

Joa

But still, Joa

Just because the Bible talked about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth didn’t mean that the offending eye or tooth were there for anyone’s taking. If Lucy Ridder had avenged her father’s death by killing her mother, then fifteen years old or not, she would have to answer for that crime in a court of law.

Regardless of whether or not Lucy Ridder agreed with the judge’s sentence, her mother had paid for her crime by spending eight years of her life in prison. Joa

CHAPTER 14

Quick Custom Metals on Romero Road was in a light-industrial complex near I-10 and Prince. Driving up to it, Joa

When Joa

A counter ran the length of the room. In front of it, an elderly silver-haired woman was engaged in a serious low-voiced conversation with a middle-aged man who stood behind the counter. It was clear from what was being said that the woman was in the process of having a sheet-metal custom-made coffin designed to hold the earthly remains of her beloved cat. The woman wanted to ascertain that the dimensions of the box would be large enough to accommodate her pet in a comfortable resting position without being crowded.

“Some cats like to curl up in a little ball, you know,” she was saying. “But not my Sidney. He always preferred to stretch out flat on the cool tiles in the kitchen, more like a dog than a cat. So that’s why I want to be sure this will be big enough. I don’t want the poor thing to be scrunched up for all eternity.”

It may have sounded like a bizarre request, but the man behind the counter seemed unfazed by it. “In that case, Mrs. Dearborn,” he said, “you’d better bring us Sidney’s exact measurements so there’s no mistake. Where is Sidney now?”

“Still at the vet’s,” Mrs. Dearborn replied. “They’re keeping him on ice there until I can come back with the coffin.”

The man gave the woman an understanding smile. “Well, if you’ll have the vet call me with the correct measurements, I’ll have one of my men get right on it. And be sure that they measure him laid out just the way you want him. Once we have the dimensions, you’ll have the box-the coffin-within twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Quick,” Mrs. Dearborn murmured. “You are quick, too,” she added. “Just living up to your name, I suppose, but you have no idea how much this means to me. I expect you’ll be hearing from my vet, Dr. Winston, within the hour.”

With that she gathered her purse from the counter, collected a crystal-knobbed cane, and hobbled her way toward the door. Joa

“Thank you, young lady,” Mrs. Dearborn said. “That’s a big help.”

“Thanks from me, too,” the man behind the counter said when Joa

“You are Mr. Quick, then?” Joa

“That’s me,” he said with a nod.

Joa

“Sure,” he said. “Just a minute.” He pulled open a door that led into a cavernous shop area. Sharp metallic-smelling smoke from a burning welding torch wafted into the office. “Hey, Leon,” he called. “Kathy’s still at lunch. Could you come watch the front counter for a few minutes?”

A few seconds later, a young man in a pair of faded blue coveralls riddled with burned spots came sauntering into the office. Once he arrived, Jay Quick ushered Joa

“Nice art,” Joa

Jay Quick nodded. “I have my mother to thank for that,” he said. “She may have come from a place most people think of as a backwater, but she maintained that living in Council Bluffs, Iowa, was no excuse for not knowing about the world outside the city limits-fine art and music included.”

“She sounds like an unusual woman,” Joa

Jay nodded. “She was,” he said. “I still miss her. But let’s get down to business, Sheriff Brady. I’m sure you’re not here to admire my framed art or discuss my mother. I’ll be glad to give you whatever help I can, but I’m not all that sure what I can tell you.”

“First, if you will, try to remember exactly what Lucy Ridder said to you on the phone.”

“Not all that much. She did identify herself, of course. Said she was Lucy Ridder and that she was looking for Mrs. Quick. At first I didn’t recognize the name and thought she wanted to speak to my wife. Finally, though, I figured out who she was and that she was trying to reach my mother. She said she wanted to talk to her-that she needed to talk to her. She made it sound important, like it was some kind of dire emergency.”

“She didn’t say what that emergency was?”

“No. Not even a hint.”

“Do you have any idea why she would call your mother?” Joa

“I don’t know if ”close‘ is the right word,“ Jay said. ”I know Lucy made a big impression on my mom-a favorable impression. And maybe that went both ways. I know Mother talked about Lucy for years afterward, always hoping that, wherever she was, she was all right.“