“I’m working on it,” Frank said. “What do you think I am, a miracle worker?”
“You’d better be,” Joanna said. “When you get it, fax a copy of it to me in care of the Lexus dealer in Tucson.”
“What’s the number?”
“I have no idea,” Joanna said, “but I can see the sign from here. It’s called Omega Lexus.”
As Joanna watched, Amy Bernard wheeled the white sedan off the street and up to the entrance to the service bays. Within moments a uniformed service representative came out to speak to her, clipboard in hand. “What do we do now, Boss?” Jaime asked.
“Pull up right behind her,” Joanna directed. “We wait until she gives the guy her car keys. Once they’re out of her hands and into his, we go up to her and have a little chat. You go one way, I’ll go the other, just in case she decides to make a run for it.”
As soon as the service rep took Amy Bernard’s keys, Joanna and Jaime climbed down out of the van. Amy stood with her back turned to the approaching officers, her blond hair ruffling in the wind. She had no idea they were there until Joanna spoke.
“How nice to see you again, Mrs. Bernard. Having some car trouble?”
The woman spun around. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Ignoring her, Joanna walked past both Amy Bernard and the service guy. She stopped in front of the car and made a show of studying the dent in the grille and the broken headlight. “Looks as though you’ve had a little fender bender here,” she said. “Have you reported it?”
“Of course I have,” Amy returned indignantly. “I was out driving alone the other night and hit a deer out on the highway between here and Oracle. I reported the accident to both the police and to my insurance company yesterday morning. But you still haven’t said why you’re here.”
“Do you happen to have a cell phone with you?” Joanna asked.
Amy Bernard’s blue eyes narrowed ominously. “Yes. Why?”
“Because I thought you might want to have Mr. Stouffer present, Mrs. Bernard. Detective Carbajal here and I would like to ask you a few questions.”
“You can’t do that.”
“You’d be surprised at what I can do, Mrs. Bernard,” Joanna said quietly. “I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Dora Matthews. And as for the car,” she added, turning to the astonished service rep who stood frozen in place, “I’ve requested a search warrant for that vehicle. The actual search warrant won’t be here until later, but as soon as it’s available, I’m having it faxed to me here. Until it arrives, no one is to touch that vehicle.”
“Wait just a minute!” Amy Bernard’s smoothly made-up face screwed itself into a knot of fury. “I brought my car in here to have it fixed, and it’s going to be fixed.”
“No,” Joanna said simply. “It’s not. I believe this vehicle contains evidence of a homicide,” she said to the service rep, who now had the presence of mind to step away from the two women and their heated exchange of words. “It’s to be left alone. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. The name on his uniform was Nick. He looked to be about twelve years old and scared to death.
Apparently, even then, Amy Bernard didn’t believe the rules applied to her. Springing forward like a cat, she wrested the clip board out of the service rep’s hands and tore off the identification tag with the keys still attached. Stuffing the keys into her pocket, she put one hand deep inside the shiny leather bag that dangled from one shoulder.
Before either Joanna or Jaime could stop her, she stepped behind the hapless Nick. “I’ve got a gun,” she announced ominously. “II’ you don’t want this guy to get hurt, you’ll let us drive out of here.”
“Where to?” Joanna asked. “How far do you think you’ll get? Do you want to add kidnapping charges to everything else?”
“You’re never going to prove anything,” Amy said, shoving the reluctant Nick ahead of her toward the driver’s side of the Lexus.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Joanna said. “Anything you say may be held against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford one, an—”
“Shut up!” Amy screamed. “Just shut up.”
“Please, lady,” Nick stammered. “I don’t know what this is about, but—”
“Get in the car,” she ordered. “Now!”
Prodding Nick forward with her purse, she pushed him as far as the front door of the Lexus. Then she slipped into the car ahead of him. She scrambled over the center console while pulling him behind her. Once they were both inside, she locked the doors.
“Get in the van, Jaime,” Joanna ordered. “If she tries to drive out of here, stop her.”
A man in a white shirt and tie emerged from the service office. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Get on the loudspeaker and clear this area,” Joanna told him, waving her badge in front of him. “Everyone inside and under cover. Now!”
For a second or two the man blinked at her in stricken amazement, then he turned and sprinted back into the office. Within seconds, Joanna heard his frantic announcement to clear the area. In the meantime, Nick turned the key in the ignition and started the Lexus. Ducking behind the door of the van, Joanna pulled the Glock out of her small-of-the-back holster. Taking careful aim, she shot out first one rear tire and then the other.
To her amazement, the passenger-side door of the Lexus flew open and Amy Bernard shot out of it into the lot. “What the hell are you doing?” she railed. “You can’t just stand there and shoot the hell out of my car. I’ll have your badge.”
Joanna noticed two things at once. For one, the driver’s door opened. Nick sprang out of the car and sprinted into the relative safety of the office. For another, both of Amy Bernard’s hands were empty. She had left her purse inside the Lexus. There was no weapon in either hand.
Seeing that, Joanna launched herself into the air. Her flying tackle caught Amy Bernard right in the midriff. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of both of them. They went down in a tangle of legs and arms. They rolled across the burning blacktop until they came to rest next to the wheel of the Econoline van. By the time they stopped rolling, Jaime Carbajal had entered the fray as well. As he reached for one of Amy’s flailing arms, she nailed him in the eye with her elbow and sent him careening backward.
Joanna, too, was trying to grab on to Amy and hold her. She felt a sharp pain on her face as Amy’s doorknob-sized diamond raked across her cheek. As Joanna’s hand went reflexively to her face, Amy Bernard scuttled away. Before she made it to the open door of the Lexus, Joanna tackled her again. Jaime came charging back as well. By then, most of Amy’s initial fury had been spent, and with two against one, it wasn’t much of a contest. Between them, Joanna and Jaime shoved the struggling woman to the ground long enough to fasten a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. Once they were secure, Jaime hauled the still-screeching woman to her feet.
“You can’t do this,” Amy wailed. “It’s police brutality. I have witnesses.”
“Why?” Joanna managed, still gasping for breath.
It was almost as though she had thrown a glass of cold water in the woman’s face. Amy Bernard stopped yelling and grew strangely still. “Why what?” she asked.
“Why did you kill Dora Matthews?” Joanna asked.
“She was a little piece of shit,” Amy snarled. “She was going to ruin my son’s life.”
“I don’t think so,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “If anyone’s going to ruin Christopher Bernard’s life, it’s you.”
Jaime Carbajal was still holding on to Amy Bernard with one hand. Using his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean hanky, which he passed to Joanna.
“What’s this for?” she asked.