Frank shuffled through the briefing papers. “Not much. Casey Ledford is down in Douglas.”

“Dusting Evans’s apartment?” Joanna asked.

Frank nodded.

“Still no sign of the vehicle?”

“Nope,” Frank answered. “If I was the perpetrator, I’d probably take it up to Tucson and leave it parked in plain sight somewhere where no one is going to pay any attention.”

“You’ve alerted Tucson PD to be on the lookout?” Joanna asked.

“You bet.”

There was a knock on the conference-room door, and Deputy Debra Howell entered the room. “Sarge told me you wanted to see me?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Joanna said. “Have a seat.”

“Is something wrong?” Debbie asked.

“Nothing at all,” Joanna assured her. “But we’re thinking about making some changes. I understand you’ve been studying for the detective exam?”

“Yes,” Debbie said. “I have.”

“Chief Deputy Montoya and I were wondering if you’d like to spend some time working as a detective for the next week or two with the understanding that the promotion is provisional until such time as you take and pass the exam?”

Debbie Howell flushed with apparent pleasure. “That would be great,” she said. “But how come? What’s going on?”

Joanna had hoped that Ernie might have mentioned his medical situation to his protegee, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Since he hadn’t confided in Debbie, Joanna didn’t tell her, either.

“It won’t come as any surprise that we’re chronically short-handed, and we need to add some depth to our investigation team. We’re dealing with an unsolved homicide at a time when one of our homicide guys may be having to take some time off. You’re the one we want to tap-if you’re interested, that is. But homicide investigators don’t punch time clocks the same way deputies do, Debbie,” Joanna warned. “They work long hours and can be called out anytime, day or night. Will that be a problem?”

“Because of Bennie, you mean?” Debbie asked.

Benjamin was Debbie’s five-year-old son. Joanna nodded, and Debbie grinned.

“If you’d asked me that question two weeks ago, it would have been a big problem,” she admitted. “But last week my sister’s jerk of a husband decided he didn’t want to be married anymore. He took off and left Katy and the two kids high and dry. Rather than staying in Phoenix and paying rent she couldn’t afford, Katy decided to come back home to Bisbee. She and the kids are staying with me right now until the dust settles and until she can find a job. In other words, working late won’t be a problem as long as Bennie’s aunt and cousins are here. When do you want me to start?”

“Today,” Joanna said. “You’ll be working plainclothes, so you’d better go home and change. Then track down Jaime and Ernie so they can bring you up to speed.”

Joanna and Frank went on with their meeting. The last of the briefing papers was a single-page report from Animal Control. Eighteen dogs, twenty-one cats, and an eight-foot-long python were currently in the Cochise County Pound.

“A python?” Joanna repeated. “Where did that come from?”

“Sunrise Apartments in Sierra Vista,” Frank replied. “A cleaning crew went into a recently vacated apartment and found the snake hiding in a closet. Sierra Vista Animal Control refused to have anything to do with it. They called us, so Jeannine Phillips and Manny Ruiz went out and collected it.”

“Great,” Joanna said. “So now we’re stuck with a python?”

“For the time being,” Frank said. “They’re trying to locate the former owner. They’re also trying to find someplace that will take him in.”

“I know about Greyhound Rescue and Golden Retriever Rescue,” Joanna said. “There’s even that wiener-dog rescue up in Phoenix, but I’ve never heard of Python Rescue, have you?”

“Actually, I have,” Frank said. “I was checking on the Internet just before I came in here. There are several python rescues listed. The problem is, there are more pythons looking to be rescued than there are people willing to take them in, so I’m guessing we could be stuck with this guy for a very long time.”

“What do pythons eat?” Joanna asked.

“Mice, I think,” Frank answered. “Live mice.”

Joanna groaned. “Great. That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

After another tap on the conference-room door, Kristin Gregovich entered the room. “What’s up?” Joanna asked.

“Sergeant Winston Brown from Huachuca City PD is on the line,” Kristin said. She picked up the conference-room phone and handed it to Joanna. “They think they’ve found our missing pickup truck.”

“This is Sheriff Brady,” Joanna said. “You think you’ve found Bradley Evans’s missing vehicle? How and where?”

“Where is right on Huachuca City‘s main drag,” Winnie Brown told her. “The last couple of years we’ve been making a concerted effort to get rid of all our local eyesores. Periodically we go around and ticket all the ’For Sale by Owner‘ cars that are left on vacant lots inside the city limits. We had your APB for a red F-100. Since this one was gray-primer gray-nobody really gave it a second thought. But the bed of the truck is red, and when our officer ran the plates, they belonged to a ’96 VW Passat. That’s when we knew we had a problem. We tried calling the number listed on the For Sale sign on the dash. It’s not a valid number. No surprises there.”

“Where is it again?” Joanna asked.

“Corner of Highway 90 and Pershing,” he said.

“Has anyone been inside it?”

“It’s locked,” Winnie Brown told her. “If you want me to, I’m sure someone could get inside…”

“No,” Joanna said quickly. “It may be a crime scene. No one is to handle it inside or out. Understand?”

“Gotcha,” Winnie Brown said.

“As soon as I can make arrangements,” Joanna continued, “I’ll dispatch a tow truck to retrieve it.”

“Okay,” Brown responded. “I’ll tell the officers on the scene that the sheriff is sending someone to pick it up.” •

Joanna looked at Frank, who was already in motion, gathering his papers and heading for the door. “I’ll make arrangements for the tow,” he said. “I’ll also track down Jaime and Ernie and let them know. Maybe Debbie can meet up with them out in Huachuca City and hit the ground running.”

With a crew of perfectly competent people collecting the homicide victim’s vehicle, there was no need for Joanna to go traipsing off to Huachuca City to bird-dog the process. Instead, she went into her office, where she found the morning’s mail stacked high on her desk. Just looking at it made her sigh. According to the latest figures from the FBI, national violent crime figures were down. Paperwork, on the other hand, seemed to be way, way up.

Twenty minutes later, when her phone rang, a truculent Jeannine Phillips was on the phone. “Well?” she said. “What did they find?”

“In San Simon?” Joanna asked. “Nothing. We had three cars stationed in and around there both Saturday and Sunday nights. There wasn’t a sign of trouble or suspicious activities. Unfortunately, with everything else that’s going on, we’re just not going to be able to maintain that level of surveillance.”

“So that’s it, then?” Jeannine responded curtly. “We’re just going to give the O’Dwyers a pass and let things go until the next dead dog shows up?”

“The next one?” Joanna said. “Did the one at the vet’s office die, then?”

“No,” Jeannine replied. “No, thanks to Mil-to Dr. Ross, he’s going to pull through.”

“And how about Monty Python?” Joanna joked.

“He’s all right, too,” Jeannine said. “Manny and I had to rig up special accommodations for him. We lined the inside of one of the kennels with Plexiglas and then hooked up lights so the damned thing wouldn’t be too cold. Since the owner went off and left both the snake and no forwarding address, I’m working on locating a snake rescue organization of some kind.”

So’s Frank Montoya, Joanna thought.

“The problem is, they’re mostly out of state. I’m concerned about transportation issues.”