Joanna bristled. “Marliss, I’m sure whatever action the board took was supposed to be confidential.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Are you on the board of directors?” Joanna demanded.

“No,” Marliss countered, “but one of my friends is. She said-”

“If it’s supposed to be confidential, then I don’t want to know what anyone said,” Joanna interrupted. “It’s none of my business, and it’s none of yours either, Marliss. Good night.”

“But wait,” the other woman said hurriedly. “Don’t hang up. What I’m afraid is that Jeff Daniels has gotten himself it some kind of trouble with the Chinese authorities and that Marianne needs the extra money to bail him out. He’s always struck me as sort of a hippie type. And I just saw a National Geographic program on TV, on public television, of course, that talked about all the drugs and hippies in Goa, India, which happens to be right next to China, you know. I thought that it anyone would be aware of what was really going on, it would be you.”

The word “hippie” might have gone out of favor in the rest of the world, but among old-time Bisbeeites it still accounted for anyone who veered ever so slightly out of the norm. With a mighty effort, a seething Joanna Brady attempted to keep from saying everything that was on her mind. The end result left her voice quivering like a serving of underdone church potluck Jell-O.

“Jeff Daniels went to China to bring home a baby,” Joanna said. “He’s in a place called Chengdu, which, as I understand it, is far better known for its coal dust than it is for drug trafficking. If there has been any delay in Jeff’s return, I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with what you regard as Jeff Daniels’ hippie tendencies.”

“Joanna, I’m only doing my job,” Marliss objected. “If there’s something going on, the public has a right-”

“No, you’re wrong, Marliss,” Joanna shot back. “This has nothing to do with your job. It has nothing to do with being a reporter and everything to do with being a gossip. Let me give you a word of advice, Marliss Shackleford. If one word of this shows up in that column of yours-one single word-I’ll come up to your office and make you eat the damn thing.”

“Joanna…”

“Marianne Maculyea may be a good enough Christian that she can turn the other cheek to people like you. But I’m not. I’m nothing but a poor, miserable sinner. My cheeks don’t turn.”

“That sounded like a threat.”

“As a matter of fact, it was,” Joanna growled into the phone. “You can count on it.”

She flung down the receiver and stood there glaring at it with as much loathing as if it were a coiled snake, one that might strike at any moment. Seconds later she was stabbed by an attack of remorse. How much of that blast of steam had Marliss actually deserved and how much should have gone to Eleanor Lathrop? One thing was sure, however. Joanna wasn’t about to call Marliss back and apologize.

“Mom?” Jenny emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a sodden bath towel wrapped around her still-wet body. Her blond hair dripped water onto the carpet. “What’s the matter?” she asked, looking up at Joanna in big-eyed concern. “I heard you yelling. I was afraid something was wrong.”

Ignoring the wet towel, Joanna pulled Jenny to her, holding the child close. “I’m fine now,” Joanna said.

“But who was that on the phone?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Joanna said. “It wasn’t important.” “It wasn’t Grandma Lathrop, was it?”

“No, it was somebody else-someone who made me mad. You don’t need to worry. It has nothing to do with you.”

“But you hardly ever yell,” Jenny said, her eyes misting over with a veil of tears. “Usually, when you get mad at me, you get quiet, not loud.”

Moving Jenny to arm’s length, Joanna smiled down at her. “You know me pretty well, don’t you.”

Biting her lip, Jenny nodded.

“Well,” Joanna continued. “The person on the phone wasn’t very nice. Sometimes that’s contagious. I ended up yelling, and that makes me almost as bad as she is.”

Jenny considered that for a moment. “Back before Daddy died, I used to think that everyone was nice.”

Joanna shook her head, then gathered her daughter into her arms once more. “So did I,” she said. “But, Jenny, we have to remember that most people still are. There are just a few bad apples. And you know what they do, don’t you?”

Jenny nodded gravely. “Grandpa Brady says they spoil the whole barrel.”

“Right,” Joanna said. “Now off you go to bed. It’s getting late. We have to get up early in the morning to go pick up Tigger. Bebe Noonan left a message that we can come get him anytime after seven.”

“You mean I can go, too?”

“If you’re ready.”

Motivated, Jenny started for her bedroom. “Good night,” she said from the doorway.

“Good night, Jenny.”

She went into her bedroom and closed the door. A moment later it opened again. “Mom?”

“What now?” Joanna asked.

“How many apples are in a barrel?”

Joanna couldn’t help laughing. “I have no idea,” she said. “That’s a question only Grandpa Jim Bob can answer. You’ll have to ask him. Good night now. Go.”

When the door closed for the second time and stayed closed, Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. For that one evening at least, Jenny had seemed like her old self. That was some-thing to be grateful for, something to appreciate. It made her hassles with both Eleanor Lathrop and Marliss Shackleford pale in significance.

Smiling to herself, Joanna picked up the phone once more. This time she dialed Angie Kellogg to let her know that being selected for jury duty wasn’t the end of the world. At least this time when Angie showed up in a courtroom, it would be with the prospect of someone else going to jail. That ought to be some small consolation.

“ There you go, Sheriff Brady,” Dr. Reginald Wade said the next morning as a red-eyed Bebe Noonan led Tigger out into the reception area on a lead. As soon as he saw Jenny, the dog went crazy. Reggie, a long, tall drink of water with a crooked grin and an easygoing manner, leaned back against the counter and watched the dog’s joyous reunion with his tiny mistress.

“You’d think he’d been locked up here forever,” he said

“At home the two of them are inseparable,” Joanna said “except, of course, when Tigger takes it into his head to go chasing after porcupines.”

The vet nodded. “Speaking of which,” he said. “It must have been close to twenty-four hours from the time that dog of yours and the porcupine started mixing it up before I was able to get after those quills. Fortunately, Bucky had Tigger under sedation and on an IV, so he came through it like a champ. By the way, I noticed that his chart called for a rabies vaccination. I gave him one while we were at it.”

Looking from Dr. Wade to Bebe Noonan, Joanna reaches into her purse to retrieve her checkbook. “Who do I pay, then?”

“Pay Terry, by all means,” Reggie Wade said. “I’m just helping out. Filling in until Terry has a chance to sort things out. Had our situations been reversed, I’m sure Bucky would have done the same for me and my furry patients. Putting Terry’s mind at ease about the animals is the least I can do.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Joanna said. “Thanks.” She turned to Jenny. “Go ahead and get Tigger in the car. If you want to have breakfast before I drop you off at school, we’re going to have to get a move on.”

Jenny reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a car-rot. “I brought this along for Kiddo. Do I have time to take it to him?”

“Sure,” Joanna said. “But hurry.”

Jenny raced out the door, taking Tigger with her. Meantime, Bebe came hurrying into the reception area along with yet another client, a young mother who had come to collect her family’s newly neutered basset-hound pup.