sheriff. It had happened almost by accident. But now she was up against decision time—the same place Jenny would be if ever she was offered another cigarette. Joanna was at the point where, as Big Hank Lathrop would have said, it was time to fish or cut bait.
Which meant it was time to ask herself what she, Joanna Brady, really wanted. If she wasn’t sheriff, what would she do instead? She was an indifferent cook and had never been much of a house-keeper. In that regard, Butch made a far better stay-at-home spouse than she did. Did she want to go back to managing an insurance agency for Milo Davis? No. That no longer spoke to her, no longer challenged her the way it once had. Joanna had to admit that she liked being sheriff; liked working the good-guy side of the bad-guy street. She liked the challenge of managing people and she felt that she was doing a good job of it. But the election was a stumbling block. She might feel she was doing a good job, but What about the voters? Did they feel the sane way? And what if she stood lot reelection and lost? What then?
Eventually the Civvie—as she preferred to call the Crown Victoria—emerged from the cool pine forests and dropped off the Mogollon Rim into a parched desert landscape where the in dash digital display reported a temperature of 118 degrees.
There’s too much on my plate for me to even think about this right now, Joanna told herself. When the time’s right, I guess I’ll know.
CHAPTER FIVE
A little after two that afternoon, Joanna drove into the shaded porte cochere of the new Conquistador Hotel in downtown Peoria. A doorman in white shirt and tie approached the driver’s door and opened it, letting Joanna out of air-conditioned comfort into a stifling and breath-robbing heat even though overhead mist ejectors were futilely trying to provide evaporative cooling. Looking at the doorman, Joanna was grateful that he was the one wearing a tie while she was dressed in the relative comfort of a T-shirt and shorts.
“Checking in today?” the doorman asked.
Joanna nodded. As she and Butch stepped out of the car, Butch looked around and whistled in amazement. It had taken less than a year for a fully landscaped, twelve-story resort hotel to sprout on the property that had once contained Butch’s Roundhouse Bar and Grill, along with any number of other small morn-and-pop-style businesses. The gentrification process had left behind no trace of the old working-class neighborhood’s funk or charm.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Butch said with a grin. “It’s so upscale now, I’m not sure they’ll let us in.”
“Will you need help with your luggage?” the doorman asked. Joanna nodded. “And we have valet parking,” he added. “Just leave your keys in the car.”
He handed Joanna a ticket. Once a bellman had loaded their luggage onto a cart, a valet attendant started to drive the Crown Victoria away. Joanna stopped him.
“I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” she said. “I have an errand to run. If you don’t mind leaving the car here ...”
“Sure,” he replied, stepping back out. “But we’ll have to keep the keys.”
Butch glanced at his watch. “It’s two now. The dinner starts at six. Why don’t you leave from here? I can handle getting us checked in. That way you’ll be finished that much sooner.”
Joanna looked down at the wrinkled shorts and T-shirt that had already done five hard hours in the car. “I have to change,” she told him. “I can’t very well do a next-of-kin notification dressed like this.”
Butch nodded. “You’re right about that,” he said. “But I’m betting you won’t make it back in time for dinner.”
“I will, too,” Joanna declared.
While Butch followed the luggage inside, Joanna used her cell phone to contact the department in Bisbee where, despite its being Saturday, Frank Montoya was nonetheless hard at work. “How are things?” she asked.
“Doc Winfield completed the Jane
Which meant it was time to ask herself what she, Joanna Brady, really wanted. If she wasn’t sheriff, what would she do instead? She was an indifferent cook and had never been much of a house-keeper. In that regard, Butch made a far better stay-at-home spouse than she did. Did she want to go back to managing an insurance agency for Milo Davis? No. That no longer spoke to her, no longer challenged her the way it once had. Joanna had to admit that she liked being sheriff; liked working the good-guy side of the bad-guy street. She liked the challenge of managing people and she felt that she was doing a good job of it. But the election was a stumbling block. She might feel she was doing a good job, but What about the voters? Did they feel the sane way? And what if she stood lot reelection and lost? What then?
Eventually the Civvie—as she preferred to call the Crown Victoria—emerged from the cool pine forests and dropped off the Mogollon Rim into a parched desert landscape where the in dash digital display reported a temperature of 118 degrees.
There’s too much on my plate for me to even think about this right now, Joanna told herself. When the time’s right, I guess I’ll know.
CHAPTER FIVE
A little after two that afternoon, Joanna drove into the shaded porte cochere of the new Conquistador Hotel in downtown Peoria. A doorman in white shirt and tie approached the driver’s door and opened it, letting Joanna out of air-conditioned comfort into a stifling and breath-robbing heat even though overhead mist ejectors were futilely trying to provide evaporative cooling. Looking at the doorman, Joanna was grateful that he was the one wearing a tie while she was dressed in the relative comfort of a T-shirt and shorts.
“Checking in today?” the doorman asked.
Joanna nodded. As she and Butch stepped out of the car, Butch looked around and whistled in amazement. It had taken less than a year for a fully landscaped, twelve-story resort hotel to sprout on the property that had once contained Butch’s Roundhouse Bar and Grill, along with any number of other small morn-and-pop-style businesses. The gentrification process had left behind no trace of the old working-class neighborhood’s funk or charm.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Butch said with a grin. “It’s so upscale now, I’m not sure they’ll let us in.”
“Will you need help with your luggage?” the doorman asked. Joanna nodded. “And we have valet parking,” he added. “Just leave your keys in the car.”
He handed Joanna a ticket. Once a bellman had loaded their luggage onto a cart, a valet attendant started to drive the Crown Victoria away. Joanna stopped him.
“I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” she said. “I have an errand to run. If you don’t mind leaving the car here ...”
“Sure,” he replied, stepping back out. “But we’ll have to keep the keys.”
Butch glanced at his watch. “It’s two now. The dinner starts at six. Why don’t you leave from here? I can handle getting us checked in. That way you’ll be finished that much sooner.”
Joanna looked down at the wrinkled shorts and T-shirt that had already done five hard hours in the car. “I have to change,” she told him. “I can’t very well do a next-of-kin notification dressed like this.”
Butch nodded. “You’re right about that,” he said. “But I’m betting you won’t make it back in time for dinner.”
“I will, too,” Joanna declared.
While Butch followed the luggage inside, Joanna used her cell phone to contact the department in Bisbee where, despite its being Saturday, Frank Montoya was nonetheless hard at work. “How are things?” she asked.
“Doc Winfield completed the Jane
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