voice mail. So far he hasn’t bothered to call me back.”
“The man must have a boss,” Joanna said. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out, Jaime, and get me his number,” Joanna said. “I’ll give him a call. Maybe the big boss can set a fire under Mr. Todd’s butt.”
Jaime Carbajal grinned. “Works for me,” he said. He left the room. A few minutes later he returned with a slip of paper.
“Good luck,” he said, handing it over.
Joanna glanced at her watch. “It’s already after five. He’s probably gone.”
“Try anyway,” Jaime said.
Picking up her phone, Joanna dialed. “Attorney general’s office,” a woman’s voice answered.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Ross Alan Connors,” Joanna said. “This is Sheriff Joanna Brady of Cochise County, Arizona.”
“May I say what this is concerning?”
“Latisha Wall.”
There was a noticeable pause. “One moment, please.”
As soon as the operator went away, canned classical music began playing, interrupted periodically by a recorded voice apologizing for the length of the wait and assuring Joanna that her call was very important to them and that someone would be with her as soon as possible. The third time she heard the equally canned apology she was ready to blow.
Five minutes later a live voice finally returned to the line. “I’m sorry. Mr. Connors is in a meeting right now.”
“Any idea what time he’ll be through with it?”
“None at all. Sorry.”
Like hell you’re sorry, Joanna thought. “What about O.H. Todd?” she asked. “Is he available?”
“He’s also in a meeting.”
The same one, no doubt .
“Would you like to be connected to Mr. Connors’s voice mail?” the woman asked.
“No, thank you,” Joanna said. “I’d like you to personally take a message. Tell him Sheriff Joanna Brady needs to speak to him, urgently. Detective Jaime Carbajal, the investigator working Latisha Wall’s death, has so far been unable to reach Mr. Todd. Obviously, time is of the essence.” After leaving her office, home, and cell-phone numbers, Joanna hung up. Across the desk from her Jaime Carbajal scowled.
“You got the same treatment I did,” he said. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for a callback.”
H ARRY I GNATIUS B ALL HAD TURNED off the light in his office and was about to close the door and head home when his phone rang. Muttering irritably under his breath, he returned to his desk and grabbed up the receiver.
“Special Unit B,” he said. “Ball speaking.”
“Harry, glad I caught you,” O.H. Todd said, sounding relieved. “I just got cut loose from a meeting that lasted all afternoon.”
Harry rattled his car keys, hoping O.H. would get the message. “What’s up?” he asked.
“How’s Beaumont doing?”
“What do you mean, how’s he doing?”
“Is he up to speed?” O.H. asked. “Ready to send out on a case?”
Harry snorted. “He was ready for that the day he got here. Why?”
“We’ve developed a problem down in Arizona. A place called Bisbee. Ross may need to ship someone down to check it out.” Todd paused. “What can you tell me about Beaumont?” he added. “About him personally, I mean. What kind of guy is he?”
“From what I’ve seen so far,” Harry replied, “he isn’t exactly a team player.”
“Maybe that’s okay,” O.H. Todd said thoughtfully. “In fact, for this case, that may be just what the doctor ordered.”
I T WAS ALMOST SEVEN when Joanna finally pulled into the yard at High Lonesome Ranch. The house was dark and locked up tight. Once inside, she discovered that Jenny and Butch had evidently already eaten. A single place setting remained on the table in the breakfast nook. In the middle of the plate was a note from Butch saying he had taken Jenny back into town for a play rehearsal and that there was a green chili casserole waiting for her in the fridge. All she had to do was heat it up.
After locking her weapons away and
“The man must have a boss,” Joanna said. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out, Jaime, and get me his number,” Joanna said. “I’ll give him a call. Maybe the big boss can set a fire under Mr. Todd’s butt.”
Jaime Carbajal grinned. “Works for me,” he said. He left the room. A few minutes later he returned with a slip of paper.
“Good luck,” he said, handing it over.
Joanna glanced at her watch. “It’s already after five. He’s probably gone.”
“Try anyway,” Jaime said.
Picking up her phone, Joanna dialed. “Attorney general’s office,” a woman’s voice answered.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Ross Alan Connors,” Joanna said. “This is Sheriff Joanna Brady of Cochise County, Arizona.”
“May I say what this is concerning?”
“Latisha Wall.”
There was a noticeable pause. “One moment, please.”
As soon as the operator went away, canned classical music began playing, interrupted periodically by a recorded voice apologizing for the length of the wait and assuring Joanna that her call was very important to them and that someone would be with her as soon as possible. The third time she heard the equally canned apology she was ready to blow.
Five minutes later a live voice finally returned to the line. “I’m sorry. Mr. Connors is in a meeting right now.”
“Any idea what time he’ll be through with it?”
“None at all. Sorry.”
Like hell you’re sorry, Joanna thought. “What about O.H. Todd?” she asked. “Is he available?”
“He’s also in a meeting.”
The same one, no doubt .
“Would you like to be connected to Mr. Connors’s voice mail?” the woman asked.
“No, thank you,” Joanna said. “I’d like you to personally take a message. Tell him Sheriff Joanna Brady needs to speak to him, urgently. Detective Jaime Carbajal, the investigator working Latisha Wall’s death, has so far been unable to reach Mr. Todd. Obviously, time is of the essence.” After leaving her office, home, and cell-phone numbers, Joanna hung up. Across the desk from her Jaime Carbajal scowled.
“You got the same treatment I did,” he said. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for a callback.”
H ARRY I GNATIUS B ALL HAD TURNED off the light in his office and was about to close the door and head home when his phone rang. Muttering irritably under his breath, he returned to his desk and grabbed up the receiver.
“Special Unit B,” he said. “Ball speaking.”
“Harry, glad I caught you,” O.H. Todd said, sounding relieved. “I just got cut loose from a meeting that lasted all afternoon.”
Harry rattled his car keys, hoping O.H. would get the message. “What’s up?” he asked.
“How’s Beaumont doing?”
“What do you mean, how’s he doing?”
“Is he up to speed?” O.H. asked. “Ready to send out on a case?”
Harry snorted. “He was ready for that the day he got here. Why?”
“We’ve developed a problem down in Arizona. A place called Bisbee. Ross may need to ship someone down to check it out.” Todd paused. “What can you tell me about Beaumont?” he added. “About him personally, I mean. What kind of guy is he?”
“From what I’ve seen so far,” Harry replied, “he isn’t exactly a team player.”
“Maybe that’s okay,” O.H. Todd said thoughtfully. “In fact, for this case, that may be just what the doctor ordered.”
I T WAS ALMOST SEVEN when Joanna finally pulled into the yard at High Lonesome Ranch. The house was dark and locked up tight. Once inside, she discovered that Jenny and Butch had evidently already eaten. A single place setting remained on the table in the breakfast nook. In the middle of the plate was a note from Butch saying he had taken Jenny back into town for a play rehearsal and that there was a green chili casserole waiting for her in the fridge. All she had to do was heat it up.
After locking her weapons away and
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