Devil’s Claw

Joa

Jay sighed. “I hope it’s not true that she’s a killer. But if it is-if it turns out Lucy Ridder really is responsible for her mother’s death-then I’m glad my mother didn’t live long enough to see it. Finding out that one of her favorite students ended up like that would have broken Mother’s heart. I don’t think she could have stood it.”

Having gleaned as much information as possible, Joa

He nodded.

Joa

“Right,” Jay said. “It does. This complex used to be called Freeway Airport. When they rezoned the land and shut down the runways, the control tower became the only part of the airport they left standing. It’s sort of a memorial, I guess.”

The sound of a ringing telephone drew Jay Quick back inside while Joa

“Santa Theresa’s,” a woman said. “Sister Emelda speaking.”

“I’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Joa

“That would be Sister Celeste, but she won’t be home until after five.”

“This is Sheriff Joa

“She’s over at the school,” Sister Emelda said. “But she has a faculty meeting that’s scheduled to start at three and won’t be out until around four o’clock. Is that too late?”

Joa

“Could you give me her office number?” Joa

“You can try,” Sister Emelda said dubiously. “But one thing about Sister Celeste. She’s very prompt, and she expects other people to be the same.”

Seconds later, Joa

“Could I take a message, please? She’s about to go into a meeting.”

“This is Sheriff Joa

The secretary went off the line. Seconds later the phone was answered again. “Yes,” a clipped voice said. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is-”

“You’re Sheriff Brady,” the woman interrupted. “I know all that. My secretary already told me. This is Sister Celeste. What is it you want?”

“We’re investigating a homicide that occurred sometime overnight last Friday down near Elfrida,” Joa

“I don’t think so,” Sister Celeste said abruptly. “In fact, I’m sure that would be quite impossible. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”

With that, the line went dead. Joa

You may think it’s impossible, Sister Celeste, Joa

Joa

“Thought you’d like to know that we’re having the Lexus towed to the impound lot,” Ernie said. “Looks like our victim was there, all right. Or, if not Sandra Ridder, somebody else bled all over the leather upholstery. Casey Ledford came out to the site and did a preliminary look-see. She tried lifting prints from several places and couldn’t find any.”

“No prints again,” Joa

“Right,” Ernie agreed. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t see one of your ordinary run-of-the-mill UDAs working that hard to keep his fingerprints out of sight and out of our computers. That suggests to me that whoever it is has been in some kind of hot water before, and he knows once we get a lock on his prints, we’re going to get a hit on AFIS and know exactly who he is.”

“Can you tell where whoever it was went after abandoning the Lexus?”

“I’d say the driver of the Lexus was picked up by someone driving a second vehicle. The driver went from one vehicle to the other without leaving any kind of prints we could cast. And the tire tracks of the second vehicle are in the roadway, so they’ve long since been obliterated by passing traffic. We’ll probably pick up trace evidence from the car’s interior that will help us get a conviction if we ever catch who did it, but for right now…”

“The Lexus is a dead end for identifying the suspect,” Joa

“How many low-life crooks do you know who are this cagey?” Ernie Carpenter asked. “Most of them never consider the possibility that they might get caught. In other words, Joa

“What kind of feeling?” Joa

“Like we’re supposed to think we’re dealing with illegals when we’re not.”

“Who then, Lucy Ridder?”

“She’s fifteen years old. I doubt very much that a kid her age would know enough or be sophisticated enough about criminal procedures to wipe down prints. Besides, she doesn’t have a driver’s license.”

“I don’t think Lucy Ridder has a license to carry, either,” Joa

“Point taken,” Ernie said.

There was a momentary pause before Joa

“He’s driving,” Ernie replied. “I know better than let him talk on the cell phone when he’s supposed to be concentrating on the road. What do you want to know?”

“He’s talked to Melanie Goodson, hasn’t he?”

Ernie was off the phone for a few seconds. “He says three times so far. Why?”

“Did she say anything about receiving a middle-of-the-night phone call around three o’clock on Saturday morning?”

Ernie passed along the question. “No,” he said when he came back on the line “She never mentioned it. Do you want him to ask her about it?”

“Why don’t I do it?” Joa

“On Speedway. The street number is four fifty-eight.”