Free Judgment Call by J. A. Jance

littering the table, Joanna gathered that lunch was mostly over. As she walked up, Butch looked at her and grinned.
    “Without that layer of red dust, you clean up very well,” he told her, “but is something wrong? You look upset.”
    “Yes, something’s wrong,” Joanna answered stiffly. “I am upset, and I’m here to tell you, Jennifer Ann Brady is in deep caca!”
    “What’s caca?” Dennis asked, smiling up at his mother over a last fistful of taco.
    “Mommy will tell you later,” Butch assured their son.
    Joanna knew she’d just been thrown under the bus. Since she was the one who had used the term, that was only fair.
    “What did Jenny do?” Butch asked.
    Joanna shook her head. “I’d better not talk about it right now. Obviously, little pitchers have big ears. Am I too late for lunch?”
    Butch moved over far enough so Joanna could sit down next to him. He passed her a glass of iced tea. “This is yours,” he said. “Your chimichanga is ready, but I told Daisy to keep it under the salamander until you got here. She’ll bring it out in a minute.”
    “After we have our ice cream, we’re going to the park,” Jeff said. “Can you come, too?”
    “No,” Joanna told him. “I have to go to work.”
    Daisy Maxwell arrived at the table, personally delivering a platter with Joanna’s steaming chimichanga on it. Daisy set the plate down in front of Joanna and then started away from the table without saying a word. Her customary smile was missing in action. Seams of worry lined her face.
    “I’m sorry to hear Junior is under the weather,” Joanna said. “Let him know we’re sending him get-well wishes.”
    Daisy paused long enough to nod her thanks. “I’ll tell him,” she said, but clearly Joanna’s words had done little to lighten the woman’s burden of worry as she marched back to the kitchen.
    Joanna pushed a fork into the chimichanga’s crusty tortilla shell, letting some of the steam leak out into the air. She wished she could let some of the steam out of her head at the same time.
    “You heard about Junior, then?” Butch asked.
    Joanna was grateful he had changed the subject. “Just what Eva Lou said.”
    “I’ve been noticing it for the last few weeks,” Jim Bob told them. “It used to be whenever Eva Lou and I came in, he greeted us by name. Now he acts as though he’s never seen us before. This morning, the people next to us asked him for water. He said he’d bring it. When the guy reminded him—and that’s all he did and not even in a mean way—Junior went ballistic. It was out of character and completely over the top. Daisy had to come out of the kitchen and talk him down. He was so upset that she had to take him back to the kitchen with her. When the next set of customers came in, Eva Lou decided it was time to help out.”
    “She’s doing a fine job of it, too,” Jeff Daniels added.
    Their waitress came by, checking to see if any additional tacos were needed. Fortunately all three of the kids had reached their taco limit. By the time they were done with their single servings of ice cream, Joanna had gobbled down half of her chimichanga and had the rest of it boxed up to take back to the office.
    “In other words,” Butch said, when she stood up to leave, doggie bag in hand, “we shouldn’t be surprised if you’re late for dinner.”
    On a day that had started out with a homicide investigation, that was a good guess. Joanna was grateful that he didn’t say anything more than that, something that might have turned their private discussion into fodder for the local gossip mills, which were already operating at full capacity.
    She leaned down and gave him a kiss, picking up the collection of checks on the table as she did so and making the move before either Jeff Daniels or Jim Bob could object.
    “See you when you get home,” Butch said. “Are you going to stop by the clinic to see Jenny?”
    Joanna nodded.
    “Don’t be too hard on her,” Butch said.