“Mayor Rogers,” the man replied. “Mayor Cletus Rogers of Tombstone.”

Joanna sighed, took a seat, and prepared herself for the worst. In the aftermath of a bitterly divisive city recall effort, Clete Rogers had been the successful write-in candidate for mayor during a special election the previous July. A restaurateur with all the diplomacy of a mountain goat, Clete Rogers had assumed mayoral duties in the Town Too Tough to Die. Once sworn into office, he had immediately set about consolidating his power base by firing anyone who disagreed with him. One of the first victims of his displeasure had been Dennis Granger, formerly the town’s chief marshal.

Rogers had planned to fire Granger and replace him with a crony-somebody who would be more to his liking. Granger, however, refused to go quietly. After turning in his badge and city-owned weapons, he had filed a million-dollar wrongful-dismissal lawsuit. With litigation still pending, both sides were forbidden from discussing the matter in public. In the meantime, the Tombstone city attorney had advised Mayor Rogers that he had best not fill the marshal’s vacancy since, legally, the vacancy did not yet exist. Which was how Sheriff Joanna Brady and her department had been drawn into the fray.

Mayor Rogers had asked the county supervisors to allow the sheriff’s department to assume control of the town’s four remaining marshals. The job was more supervisory than anything else-a matter of assigning and coordinating the officers left to do the actual work.

In the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department, Chief Deputy for Administration Frank Montoya was Joanna’s right-hand man, but before signing on with the county, he had served as marshal for the city of Willcox. Montoya’s background and experience made him the logical choice to take on the Tombstone assignment. He had been there-working out of city hall, staying in a motel, and with the city of Tombstone paying his salary-for the better part of two months. But as litigation threatened to drag on and on, both Frank and Joanna were beginning to wonder if he’d ever return to his office at the Cochise County Justice Complex outside Bisbee. Not only that, from what Joanna had heard, Mayor Rogers didn’t seem to appreciate Frank’s performance as marshal any wore than he had Dennis Granger’s.

“What’s the problem now?” Joanna asked.

“I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Rogers returned. “My sister Susan is the problem. She came into my place of business just before noon and started a disturbance. Frank Montoya was sitting right there eating his lunch when it happened. He didn’t raise a finger.”

“What kind of disturbance?” Joanna asked.

“Do you remember the Smothers Brothers?” Rogers asked.

“The Smothers Brothers?” Joanna asked dubiously. “Who are they?”

“That’s right,” Rogers snorted. “You’re probably too young. Years ago, in the sixties, they were a comedy team. Used to have a great show called ‘The Smothers’ Brothers Comedy Hour.’ I loved it. Some of their best routines were all about how their mother liked the other one best. Believe me, when it comes to that, Susan could have given those guys lessons.”

“You’re saying the argument was about your mother, then?” Joanna asked.

“That’s how it started, and things went downhill from there. It ended up with Susan grabbing a tablecloth and pulling a whole table’s worth of glasses, dishes, and silverware onto the floor. Broke two plates, one mug, three water glasses, and four wineglasses. That’s more breakage than we usually have in a month. Make that a year. Those wineglasses especially are damned expensive. And what did your pal Montoya do about it? I’ll tell you what he did-nothing! Not a damned thing!”

“Is your sister still there?”

“No. Montoya did do that much, I guess,” Rogers admitted grudgingly. “He talked her into going outside, but he should have arrested her, by God! For disturbing the peace, if nothing else, for trespassing, or even for assault. With all that glass flying around, it’s a wonder somebody didn’t get hurt. If not one of my customers, then one of my workers. It was right in the middle of the Sunday after church rush, too. The place was packed.”

“And this incident was all about your mother?” Joanna asked.

“About her boyfriend, really. Farley Adams. I’m sure Mother’s mentioned him to Susan the same as she has to me, but now that it looks like things might turn serious, Susan’s all pissed off that I haven’t done something to stop it.”

“I take it your sister disapproves of the boyfriend?” Joanna observed.

“Our mother is something of a free spirit,” Rogers said. “But my sister is an uptight middle-class prude with delusions of grandeur. She can’t stand the idea that our mother still has some feminine juices flowing. I’m sure she’d like to think of Mother as a shriveled old prune. The fact that the old girl’s still capable of sowing wild oats drives Susan wild.”

“So what exactly caused the fuss?” Joanna asked.

“I suggested Susan mind her own business. I also hinted that maybe she should try reading Lady Chatterley’s Lover. That’s when she went ballistic on me and started breaking up my restaurant.”

Joanna felt as though important parts of the story were missing. “Why did that upset your sister so?”

“Have you read Lady Chatterley’s Lover?” Rogers asked pointedly. “The randy caretaker and all that?”

“You’re saying the boyfriend, this Mr. Adams, started out

as your mother’s employee then, as a gardener or something?”

“Right, as her handyman, but he’s graduated to something else, evidently. According to Susan, the two of them drove up to Laughlin, Nevada, a couple of weeks ago and stayed for three whole days. I doubt they had separate rooms. And I doubt they spent the whole time playing slot machines or blackjack, either.”

“All right,” Joanna said. “So your sister disapproved of your mother’s choice of friends, but how did that cause trouble between the two of you?”

“Susan evidently found out about the Laughlin trip just last night. Mother went out to Sierra Vista to have dinner with Susan and her husband and told them all about it. Rubbed their noses in it, was the way Susan put it. She asked me if I had known our mother was drifting in that direction, and why hadn’t I done something to stop it. I told her it was none of my business, any more than it was hers.”

“Where’s your sister now?”

“Not in jail, where she should be. Montoya told her to go home and cool off.”

“And your mother?”

“At home, as far as I know. I haven’t talked to her today so far, but she usually comes by for dinner later on in the afternoon. That’s one of the disadvantages of being in the restaurant business. Some of your relatives give up cooking completely. As far as Mother is concerned, though, it’s the least I can do.”

In the course of the conversation, Clete Rogers sounded as though he had cooled off some. He had needed to vent.

“So things are pretty well under control at the moment, is that correct?” Joanna asked.

“Well, yes. I suppose so.”

“Are you interested in filing any charges?”

“Oh, all right. Probably not. If Mother found out, it would only upset her, wouldn’t it?”

“Most likely.”

“I’ll just let it go, then. But you tell Montoya to give Susan the word. Have him tell her that she’s not to come around here again. That from now on the Grubsteak is totally off limits.”

“It might be best if you told her yourself instead of dragging Deputy Montoya into it,” Joanna inserted smoothly. “Better yet, you might consider having your attorney go to court and obtain a restraining order. That way, if Susan comes anywhere near your home or your place of business, either one, then there’ll be grounds for officers to arrest her. That will go for your town marshals and for my deputies, both. It’ll give everyone a legal basis for removing her.”