J.A. Jance - Dead to Rights (A Joanna Brady Mystery)

Prologue

Hal and Bonnie Morgan wended their way through thecrowded, overheated movie-theater lobby into the cool air of a midwinterPhoenix night. Once outside the theater doors, the aroma of popcorn quicklygave way to a haze of smoke from a dozen hastily lit cigarettes. As they movedacross the open-air patio, Bonnie reached out, took her husbands hand, andsqueezed it.

In response, Hal leaned toward her. The names Bond, hewhispered, James Bond. Bonnie and Hal had just finished seeing Golden Eye forthe third time. Hals imitation of Pierce Brosnans accent and delivery was sodead-on that Bonnie giggled aloud.

Youre good enough that they should have made you the newJames Bond, she told him.

A passion for James Bond movies was something the two of them had shared in common when theymet twenty years earlier. And now, after a celebratory dinner in honor of theirnineteenth wedding anniversary, they were on their way hack to the HyattRegency two blocks away. They came to Phoenix each February to celebrate bothSaint Valentines Day and their wedding anniversary. Once a year, they wouldsplurge and pretend, for that one evening at least, that they, too, were a pairof carefree snowbirds.

On their anniversary trips they made a conscious effort toput aside all day-to-day concerns. Hal would do his best to forget whatevercrisis might be brewing in the small trailer park he managed up in Wickenburgwhile Bonnie turned her back on the petty small-town grievances simmering inthe Wickenburg Post Office where she worked as a part-time clerk. For thatsingle day, they concentrated on each other and on the miracle that had broughtthem together in the first place, one that had given them the blessing ofnineteen wonderful years.

Riding down on the outdoor escalator, Bonnie breatheddeeply. As the pall of cigarette smoke dissipated, a sweet, delicate scentpermeated the air. Smell those orange blossoms, she said. Its like everyyear God gives us my wed-ding bouquet all over again, except now its free. Wedont even have to pay for it.

Bonnie had carried a bouquet of orange blossoms to theirValentines Day wedding ceremony in front of a curmudgeonly Justice of thePeace in Palm Springs. They had gone to Palm Springs to marry in hopes Bonniesrecently divorced ex-husband wouldnt get wind of the ceremony and try to screwthings up.

You were a very beautiful bride, Hal said with a suddencatch in his throat. He was still as smitten with his wife as he had been thefirst day he laid eyes on her, as she had walked along the beach with herlittle niece and nephew in tow.

Before netting Bonnie, Hal Morgan had already had adisastrous first marriage blow up in his face. In the lonely aftermath of hisdivorce, he had thrown himself into his work as a police officer withsingle-minded dedication. He had been the one who always volunteered to takethose unpopular Sunday-afternoon and holiday shifts. What little spare timewas left to him he had spent prowling around dusty used-book stores.

From the moment he and Bonnie had struck up a casualconversation outside a snow-cone stand, all that had changed. Bonnie had comeinto his life bringing both her radiant smile and her sunny disposition, eitherof which would have been enough to melt Hal Morgans heart. Her spontaneous joyof living had caught him up and carried him along like the cur-rent in aswiftly moving babbling brook. Even now he some-times couldnt help but marvelat his great good fortune.

You were beautiful then, he added, almost as anafter-thought. And nineteen years later, you still are.

Bonnie looked up at him and smiled. As usual, Hal Morgansheart seemed to skip a beat.

They reached the intersection of Third and Van Buren justas the light changed from red to green. At nine oclock at night, downtowntraffic was almost nonexistent. Still, Hal checked in both directions beforethey stepped off the curb. There were a few headlights coming toward them inthe right-hand, west-bound lanes, but they were a block away, stopped at thenext light as Hal led Bonnie into the marked crosswalk. They were in the middleof the street when Hal heard the squeal of rubber as a car came careeningaround the corner, coming the wrong way on Third and then skidding into awrenching right-hand turn onto Van Buren. The speeding vehicle, a late-modelfull-sized Chevy pickup of some kind, bounced over the edge of the sidewalk andthen slid, spinning out of control, into the intersection.

Hal jumped back out of the way andtried to pull Bonnie with him, but he was too late. One moment Hal was holdingBonnies hand; the next she was yanked from his grasp. He stood there frozen instunned silence as she flew away from him, up into the air, seeming to floatabove him like a rag doll someone had tossed out of the window of a moving vehicle.The pickup was still doing a 180 when Bonnie Morgan started back to earth. Shecrashed to the pavement just to the left of the spinning truck, hitting theground back-first with an awful, bone-crushing impact and then disappearing completelybeneath the body of the truck as it finally came to rest, landing on its side.

Almost at once there were hornshonking. Within seconds a crowd gathered out of nowhere, but Hal Morgan heardnothing, saw no one. He vaulted forward, reaching the truck at almost the sametime it stopped moving. Several passersby, most of them fellow moviegoers whohad followed Hal and Bonnie down the escalator, joined him an instant later.

The engine was still running.

Turn the damned thing off before itcatches fire, some-one shouted. For Gods sake, turn it off!

Knowing the danger, Hal did whatyears of police training had taught him. He scrambled in through the smashedpassenger side window, into a fog of spilled booze and across a seat slick withwhiskey-laced vomit. The driver, cushioned by the now deflated air bag, wasstill strapped inside.

Whazza matter? he was asking. Whatthe hell happened?

Ignoring him, Hal managed to reachacross the seat far enough to turn the key in the switch. then he clambered hackoutside.

The swelling crowd stood together in stricken silence. Allthat was visible of Bonnie Morgan were the graceful fingers of a single handprotruding from underneath the pickups crushed drivers side. On one of thosefingers the gold from Bonnies wedding band glinted in the glow of astreetlight.

It was then Hal noticed there was someone standing next tohima young black man in torn jeans and a ragged shirt with a baseball capperched on a thicket of dreadlocks.

Help me, Hal choked. Maybe we can lift it off her.

Sure thing, man, the kid said. No problem.

As the two of them set to work, several of the passersbyjoined in. They knelt together alongside the fallen pickup. Then, on the countof three, they lifted it, rolling it back up-right, pushing it onto its wheels.Uncovered, Bonnie Morgan lay inert. In the lamp-lit dusk, a thin dribble ofblood, tinted purple by the mercury vapor lights, leaked out of the corner ofher mouth and ran downward into her ear and hair.

Hal rushed to his wifes side and threw himself down onthe pavement beside her. As he took her wrist to check for a pulse, a hushedsilence once again drifted over the crowd of onlookers. That was brokensuddenly by a frantic pounding from inside the truck.

Hey, somebody! the trapped driver yelled. Lemme out!The doors stuck. I cant get it open. Get me out of here.

Gently, as if the bone might shatter, Hal Morgan placedhis wifes still wrist back where he had found it. Then, with a groan that wasmore rage than anything else, he sprang to his feet and headed for the truckonce more. Of all the people gathered around at that moment, only the kid inthe torn jeans read the murderous look on the other mans face.

Leave him he, man, the kid said, taking hold of Halsshoulder, forcibly restraining him. Let the cops take care of the stupid jerk.