On her way through the lobby, Joanna heard several conversations stop abruptly as she passed by. She also noted several sidelong questioning glances. Stiffening her spine, she smiled, greeted people by name, and marched right on past.

Let ‘em talk, she told herself firmly. All I’ve got to do is show them it’s business as usual. Everything will be fine.

But everything wasn’t fine. In the reception area outside Joanna’s office, a red-nosed and tearful Kristin Marsten barely acknowledged Joanna’s greeting. “Your messages are on your desk,” the overwrought secretary told her boss.

A glance into Dick’s office showed that the place had been stripped bare of every personal item. Relieved, Joanna turned back to Kristin. “Did Mr. Voland drop off the keys to his Bronco?”

“Yes, he left them,” Kristin snapped back. “Those are on your desk, too. Why don’t you go look for once instead of asking me!”

That outburst brought Joanna to a full stop in front of Kris-tin’s desk. Never one to raise her voice when she was angry, she didn’t do so now.

“Let’s get something straight, Kristin,” she said in a voice just barely above a whisper. “Chief Deputy Voland left of his own volition. I did not ask him to leave, but I didn’t ask him to stay, either. There are certain basic requirements for working around here, and mutual respect is one of them. If you’re not happy with my personnel changes, then you have three choices. One: You can learn to live with them. Two: You can quit. Three: You can ask for a transfer to some other duty station inside the department.

“It’s your choice, Kristin,” Joanna continued, “but those are the options. Let me warn you, however. If the choice you make is to continue working as my secretary, you’d better be prepared to give me the respect I deserve. Understood?”

Ashen-faced, Kristin nodded bleakly and said nothing.

“All right then,” Joanna finished. “I’m going into my office to return some calls. Is Frank Montoya still around?”

“He’s in his office.”

“Good. Ask him to come see me when he has a minute.”

With that, Joanna stalked off. She knew she had lashed out at Kristin, probably harder than the young woman deserved. After all, Kristin had worked with Dick Voland for years, and she obviously liked him. Still, Joanna had to make the point so word would get around. If there were any other die-hard Dick Voland loyalists in the office-and he had worked for the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department long enough that there were bound to be some-then those people needed to know exactly how the wind was blowing. Joanna Brady was in charge and she wasn’t going to be stepped on. That was the way it was, by God, and she had to let people know!

Dick Voland’s keys sat on top of the stack of messages in the middle of her desk. Putting the keys to one side, Joanna sorted through the messages. On her way home from the Kiwanis meeting, when Joanna had decided that she was going home for the day, she had shut off her pager and shifted her cell-phone calls to the office. As a consequence, all of that day’s calls had been routed through the office and had been transcribed by Kristin.

Sorting through them was a bit like dealing out a hand of solitaire. There were sixteen in all. Three of them were from Butch. The first one from him contained an invitation to dinner. The second set the time and neglected to tell her where, while the third worried about whether or not she had received either of the first two. Seven were congratulatory calls from people around town who had read about her expected engagement and who were calling to wish Joanna well. Two of the remaining six were from Marliss and two were from Eleanor, with one each from George Winfield and Dr. Fran Daly.

Deciding to return the congratulatory calls later, Joanna set those aside. The messages from Marliss and Eleanor went straight into the circular file under her desk. The calls from the two medical examiners were the only ones she actually tackled.

“Oh, it’s you,” George said, when he recognized her voice. “When I didn’t hear from you, I called Ernie Carpenter. He sent Jaime Carbajal up here to pick up the preliminary report on Mark Childers.”

That was Joanna’s first hint that Mark Childers hadn’t survived the night, but she didn’t let on. “So what was it?” she asked.

“Heart attack,” Dr. Winfield answered wearily. “His heart was already badly diseased to begin with. And I’m sure the drugs didn’t help.”

“Drugs?” Joanna repeated.

“You bet. I’ll bet Mark Childers was a long-time recreational drug user-cocaine and/or heroin. He was a heart attack waiting to happen. And sitting locked in the dark in a crapper with somebody outside taking pot shots at the door was enough to do him in. I did that one first thing this morning, and just finished up with Flores a little while ago. I’ll be sending that paperwork along as well, but since you were right there when it happened, I suppose that one is pretty self-explanatory.”

“Right,” Joanna said. “But Ernie and Jaime will need a copy all the sane.”

An awkward pause followed. “I’m sorry as hell about the way things worked out,” George Winfield said finally. “That bit in the newspaper was ridiculous. I told your mother-well, never mind. Suffice it to say, we’ve had words about this. She had no right to do that to you, Joanna, or to Butch, either. I’ve always given Ellie the benefit of the doubt where you were concerned. To hear her tell it, you were always a handful from the day you were born and always a step or two out of line. Now-what can I say?”

He sounded so genuinely upset that Joanna felt sorry for him. “You don’t have to say anything, George. It’s all right. Butch asked me to marry him and I said yes. That’s all there is to it. An item in Marliss Shackleford’s column certainly wouldn’t be my first choice for letting the world know, but now the word’s out, and it’s all right.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Have you talked to your mother then?”

“Not yet.” Joanna laughed. “I talk a good game, but maybe not quite that good.”

“I understand,” George Winfield said with obvious relief. “But do call her as soon as you can. For all our sakes.”

“All right,” Joanna said. “I will.”

As soon as she ended that call, Joanna tried returning Fran’s call, only to be told that the assistant medical examiner was unavailable. Well, Joanna thought, it turns out so am I.

She stood up and started into the lobby to tell Kristin she was leaving. Frank Montoya met her at the lobby door. “For someone who didn’t come to work today, you’ve had yourself quite a day,” he observed.

“Is everything under control?” she asked.

“As much as it can be.”

“Good. I may not look sick, but I’m having a sick day nonetheless. Since you’ve done a great job of handling things so far, keep right on doing it. We’ll talk about all this tomorrow morning. What do you say?”

“You’re the boss,” Frank replied. “Tomorrow it is.”