Free Damage Control by J. A. Jance

her own phone when they got there. “All right, Mrs. Sunderson,” she said, once the call was completed. “We’ve talked to the Red Cross and made arrangements for you and the boys to have vouchers so you can stay at Crocker’s Motel out in the Terraces for the next five days. We’re using that one because they allow pets and also because the rooms have kitchenettes. We’ve also arranged for gift cards for you to both Target and Safeway. That way you should be able to get the basics as far as food and clothing are concerned. And Mr. Morales, who runs the Chevron station on the traffic circle, says youhave fifty gallons of free gas coming. Just go by there and fill up whenever you need to.”
    Carol Sunderson’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said.
    “Don’t thank me,” Marianne replied. “That’s what small towns are good for. When there’s a problem we all pull together. The trick is getting those solutions in place before something bad happens instead of doing it after the fact.”
    Joanna knew there was indeed no trick to it at all. What it took was hard work, organization, and lots of pre-planning. Fortunately for Carol Sunderson, Marianne Maculyea was good at all three.
    By then the last fire truck was finishing its mopping-up operation. As Joanna directed deputies Raymond and Ruiz to put up a crime scene barrier, her phone rang, reminding her that she had not yet checked her voice mail messages, either.
    “Frank here,” Chief Deputy Montoya said.
    “What’s up?”
    “To begin with, Jaime’s nephew showed up claiming to have found a body. The kid was too spooked to speak to anyone but Jaime. I’ve asked Dispatch to send Ernie out to the Double Adobe fire so Jaime can take his nephew down to Naco to check out his story,” Frank said. “Jaime said he’d stay on the scene until Ernie gets there to take over.
    “But that’s only part of the problem,” Frank continued. “Now I’ve got a crazy woman here at the office who’s demanding to speak to you and nobody else.”
    As sheriff, Joanna had dealt with more than her share of crazies. Some of them were such regulars that they were practically on a first-name basis. “Which one?” Joanna asked. “And is she armed or not?”
    “Not,” Frank said. “She says her name is Edwards, Samantha Edwards. She wants to know why her sister received the next-of-kin notification about their parents’ deaths and she didn’t.”
    Joanna waved at Matt Raymond, miming that it was time to drive.
    “Where to?”
    “Back to the Justice Center,” Joanna told him. “She’s one of the Beasleys’ daughters, then?” Joanna asked Frank.
    “Yup.”
    “And who was in charge of doing notifications?”
    “Detective Howell.”
    Deb Howell was Joanna’s newest detective. It was possible that inexperience had led to some kind of error in judgment.
    “Where’s Deb right now?” Joanna asked.
    “Up at Doc Winfield’s place,” Frank said. “She’s scheduled to be there most of the morning—for the official ID, and then she’s supposed to hang around and sit in on the autopsy as well.”
    “Okay,” Joanna said. “Speaking of Doc Winfield. He can’t deal with any remains here until what’s left of the fire cools down. I’m going to leave Deputy Ruiz on-site to maintain the scene. When I left the house earlier, our wash was still up, so my Crown Victoria is stuck at home. I’ll have Deputy Raymond give me a ride to the office. Before I get there, though, I’ll try to talk to Deb and get her version of what happened.”
    “She’d better have a hell of a good story,” Frank said. “This woman is not a happy camper.”
    “So what’s all this about Jaime’s nephew and a body?”
    Frank gave her a quick overview. “Like I said, Jaime’s on his way there and will call once he has had a chance to scope things out and let us know if he needs more people.”
    “We don’t have more people,” Joanna pointed out.