Dead Wrong

Chapter 14

“Where are we going?” Frank asked once they were in his Crown Victoria. “Anna Marie Crystal’s place on Short Street in Sierra Vista.”

“Lisa’s mother?”

“Right,” Joanna said. “Do you know how to get there?”

“No,” Frank said. “But I can find it.” While he adjusted his portable Garmin GPS, Joanna shuffled through the stack of papers he had handed her. Most of the material consisted of archived articles from various Arizona newspapers-many of them dealing with Arizona Supreme Court decisions in which Lawrence Tazewell was mentioned briefly as part of either the majority or dissenting opinion. After skipping over most of those, Joanna settled in to read a long feature article from the Arizona Reporter.

It was a mostly laudatory piece with several color photographs of Judge Tazewell and his wife, Sharon. One showed them posing arm in arm on the patio of their home, with Camelback Mountain looming in the background. Another showed them standing in a living room next to a white grand piano with a huge oil painting of the Grand Canyon covering the wall behind them. There were mentions of the Tazewells both as participants and movers and shakers in various social and charitable events. Clearly they were members in good standing of the Paradise Valley and greater Phoenix social scene.

Lawrence Tazewell, a man who had come from humble beginnings in the copper-mining town of Morenci, Arizona, had obviously done all right for himself. No doubt hard work accounted for what he had achieved and acquired along the way, but Joanna suspected that a couple of fortuitous marriages-one of them to Aileen Houlihan of Triple H Ranch-had benefited Judge Tazewell’s plentiful bottom line, but the only reference to that long-ago marriage came at the very end of the article in a sentence that read:

Judge Tazewell’s only child, a daughter from a previous marriage, still resides in Sierra Vista.

“So,” Joanna said when she finished reading. “Aileen and Lawrence Tazewell convince Lisa Marie Evans to hand her baby over to them, she disappears into thin air, and then Judge Tazewell makes sure Bradley goes away for a very long time. Neat. Ties up all the loose ends.”

Frank nodded. “Everything goes swimmingly until Bradley comes back, runs into Leslie Markham by accident, and then there’s trouble. If any of the old stuff comes out, then it’s bye-bye to Larry Tazewell’s next judicial appointment.”

Joanna’s telephone rang.

“Hi, Sheriff Brady,” Debbie Howell said. “Wanted to let you know what’s going on. Jaime and I are still in Tucson. We’re still not having much luck tracking Tony Zavala and his friends. They all seem to have gone to ground. The media coverage probably has them scared.”

“So keep looking,” Joanna said.

“We will,” Debbie agreed. “We’re particularly interested in talking to Tony’s girlfriend, the one with the city of Tucson dog-fighting citation. From everything we’re hearing on the street, she’s a ringleader. We did spend some time over at the Humane Society. According to the guy we spoke to there, Roostercomb pit bulls are legendary in dogfighting circles for being killers. They go for top dollar.”

“The O’Dwyers sell them?” Joanna asked.

“That’s right.”

“If all this is happening in my jurisdiction, why don’t I know about it?”

“It turns out there’s a lot we don’t know about the O’Dwyers,” Debbie answered. “Not only do they breed and sell the dogs, they also offer a venue for the fights and run a lucrative betting operation on the side.”

“Sounds like they’re a regular pair of entrepreneurs. I’m surprised someone hasn’t signed them up for the local chamber of commerce.”

“Right,” Debbie said. “The only question is figuring out which chamber of commerce applies.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re pretending to operate out of New Mexico,” Debbie explained. “People who come to see the fights evidently use a road off I-10 that runs through New Mexico in order to gain access to Roostercomb Ranch through a back entrance. That way they don’t have to drive through San Simon, where extra traffic would be more noticeable.”

“Which also explains why the surveillance we set up in San Simon over the weekend came up empty,” Joanna said.

“Exactly. As far as sales are concerned, the kennel’s official address is actually a post office box in Road Forks,” Debbie added. “By operating in another state, they’ve managed to stay under everybody’s radar.”

“Until Jeannine started finding dead and dying dogs along I- 10.”

“Right,” Debbie agreed. “So is it time someone went over to Roostercomb Ranch and had a chat with them?”

“No,” Joanna said. “Absolutely not. Let’s see what we can do to get the goods on them before we make contact. That means, if and when you do find one of the gang of thugs who beat up Jeannine, let them know that we’re willing to deal. Tell them that the first guy who gives us enough evidence to convict Clarence and Billy O’Dwyer of conspiracy to commit murder can plan on getting special treatment.”

“A bargaining chip?”

“You bet,” Joanna said. “And if they’re taking bets, once we wrap them up I’m sure the feds will be interested in little things like income-tax evasion. It should turn into quite a nice package.”

“We’ll keep plugging,” Debbie said. “We’re motivated.”

“I know you are,” Joanna said. “But the hours…”

“Don’t worry about Bennie,” Debbie returned. “He’s having a great time with his cousins. Believe me, the extra hours are not a problem.”

Frank waited until she ended the call. “Sounds like you could be venturing into the unauthorized-plea-bargain business,” he said. “Shouldn’t you clear that offer with the county attorney before you make it?”

“I’ll call Arlee Jones first thing in the morning and bring him into the loop, but I’m not particularly worried about it. He’s so lazy he’d rather do a plea bargain any day. Actually trying a case would require his getting off his dead rear end.”

“Don’t hold back,” Frank said with a grin. “Why don’t you say how you really feel?”

“But there is someone else I need to call,” she added. “Sheriff Randy Trotter.”

Through the years Joanna had had enough dealings with Hidalgo County Sheriff Randy Trotter in New Mexico that his numbers were programmed into her cell phone. Minutes later she had the man on the phone.

“Are you still working?” he asked once he knew who was calling. “I thought you’d be off having your baby by now. What can I do for you?”

“What would you think if I said the names Billy and Clarence O’Dwyer?” Joanna asked.

“I’d think I was glad Roostercomb Ranch is mostly on your side of the state line,” Randy Trotter answered. “Those two guys are mean as snakes, and the less my officers and I have to do with them the better. Why?”

“Because it looks like they’re operating a criminal enterprise that straddles the state line the same way their ranch used to.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this,” Randy said, “but I guess you’d better tell me.”

It was ten after four and Joanna had just gotten off the phone with Sheriff Trotter when Frank pulled up in front of Anna Marie Crystal’s modest home on Short Street.

“You never did say how we’re going to play this,” Frank observed as they walked up the sidewalk. “Are you going to tell her about Leslie Markham’s resemblance to her dead daughter?”

“Not if we don’t have to,” Joanna returned. “For one thing, until we know whether or not her daughter is dead or alive, I don’t want to get the poor woman’s hopes up.”

Fritz, the silky terrier mix, began barking the moment they stepped onto the porch. Through the door they could hear Anna Marie muttering to herself while she shut off the blaring television set, confined the dog to the kitchen, and then came to the door. When she opened it, a thick cloud of stale cigarette smoke wafted outside.

“Oh,” Anna Marie said, looking at Joanna and shaking her head in apparent disgust. “It’s you again. What do you want this time?”

“This is my chief deputy, Frank Montoya,” Joanna said. “We’d like to talk to you for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”

“I’ve already told you everything I know about Bradley Evans,” Anna Marie said. “Personally, I don’t give a damn if you ever find out who killed him.”

“This is about your daughter,” Joanna said.

“About Lisa?” Anna Marie gave Joanna a shrewdly appraising look, but finally she stepped back into the room, allowing Frank and Joanna to enter. “What about her?”

“Do you mind if we sit?” Joanna asked.

“It’s okay, I suppose,” Anna Marie answered.

Joanna immediately chose a spot at the far end of the couch and seated herself next to an end table that contained a reeking ashtray. One of the stubs was still smoldering.

“What do you want to know?” Anna Marie asked brusquely.

“What can you tell us about your daughter’s marriage to Bradley Evans?” Joanna asked.

“I don’t see that it matters. I thought they were too young to be married. And I thought he was on the wild side and not ready to settle down. I thought he drank too much. Why? Why does any of this matter now?”

“Was Lisa unhappy with him?” Joanna persisted.

“Are you kidding? She was head over heels in love with the guy. And she told us-Kenny and me-that she was sure he’d straighten up once she had the baby.”

“Did she ever threaten to leave him?”

“Never.”

“You don’t think it’s possible she tried to run away from him?”

“If she did, he stopped her, didn’t he. Murdering her would be one way to keep her from leaving.”

“Yes,” Joanna said, “I suppose it would.” She eyed the ashtray where the smoldering cigarette stub had finally extinguished itself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I seem to be thirsting to death. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

“All right,” Anna Marie said grudgingly. She stood up with a sigh and headed for the kitchen. Before the door had swung shut behind her, Joanna had collected the cigarette stub, stuffed it into an evidence bag, and shoved the bag into her pocket. Grinning, Frank gave her a quick thumbs-up.

Anna Marie returned to the living room with a glass of water in one hand and her yapping dog in the other. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with the price of tea in China,” she said.

“We’re trying to find out if it’s possible that Bradley Evans’s murder now has something to do with what happened to your daughter all those years ago.”

Anna Marie put down the dog. Then she collected the ashtray, her cigarettes, and her lighter and took them to the opposite end of the couch. She lit a cigarette and then blew a new puff of smoke into the already saturated air. By the time she looked back at Joanna, her countenance had changed.

“I certainly hope so,” she said fiercely. “I always thought the son of a bitch got off way too easy. I prayed every night for years that he’d die in prison. You see how much good that did. But he’s dead now, so why are you still asking questions?”

“Since Bradley Evans confessed to the crime and also went to prison for it, it’s possible that the investigation into your daughter’s death was something less than thorough,” Joanna explained. “We’re exploring the possibility that someone else may have been involved.”

“You’re saying Bradley had an accomplice?”

That wasn’t at all what Joanna meant, but since that idea seemed to satisfy some of Anna Marie’s objections, she let it slide. Joanna knew from reading the casebook that the Lisa Evans homicide had been closed so quickly and so definitively that few of the victim’s friends and associates had ever been interviewed.

“Possibly,” Joanna said.

“Was it a woman?” Anna Marie asked. “I always wondered about that-if he had a girlfriend or someone on the side-and that’s why he got rid of Lisa.”

“Did your daughter say something that led you to think that might be the case?”

“No. According to what she told me, everything was hunky-dory, except for Bradley’s drinking, that is. She was worried about it. That was the only thing she ever complained about.”

“It may be the one thing she mentioned to you, but she might have said something more to someone else,” Joanna said. “You see, Mrs. Crystal, although I love my mother very much, there are issues in my marriage that I would never discuss with her. Is it possible that Lisa had friends other than you, people her age, that she might have told her troubles to?”

Anna Marie considered for a moment before she answered. “Lisa’s best friend would have been the Tanner girl-Barbara Tanner. Lisa might have said something to her.”

“Who was Barbara Tanner?”

“Her parents owned the dry cleaner’s where Lisa worked. In fact, Barbara was the one who got Lisa the job in the first place. She worked part-time there while she was still in high school and then full-time after she got out. Barbara worked there, too, some of the time, but after she went off to college, she only worked on winter breaks and during the summers to help her parents.”

“What about Lisa?” Joanna asked. “Why didn’t she go to college?”

Anna Marie shrugged. “She wasn’t interested, mostly. Kenny would have found a way to pay for it if she had really wanted to go, but her grades weren’t all that good, and she never really liked school.”

“Do the Tanners still live around here?” Joanna asked.

Anna Marie shook her head. “They sold out a long time ago, and they’re both gone now. Barbara was a change-of-life baby, so her parents were a lot older than Kenny and me.”

“What about Barbara?”

“I have no idea,” Anna Marie said. “The last time I saw her was at Lisa’s funeral. She was there with her fiance. I know she introduced me to him, but I don’t remember his name or anything about him. I don’t think he was from around here.”

“Did Lisa have any other friends?”

“Not really. She wasn’t a very outgoing person; she was pretty but shy. I thought working in the dry cleaner’s would help bring her out of herself. Instead, she ended up meeting Bradley. He asked her out and that was it. He was the only person she ever dated, and for some reason she didn’t think she deserved anyone better.”

Joanna thought about what Leslie Markham had said-that Rory was the only person she had ever dated. It sounded as though Lisa Marie Crystal’s history had repeated itself in Leslie. Both of them had settled for someone who probably wasn’t the very best specimen of manhood. And what about Lisa’s father, Anna Marie’s beloved Kenny? Maybe he wasn’t any better than the men his daughter and granddaughter had chosen. Was the propensity for choosing men badly also to be found on mitochondrial DNA?

Joanna closed her notebook and rose to her feet. “We’ll see what we can do to track down Barbara Tanner.”

Anna Marie rose, too, and followed Frank and Joanna to the door. “You will tell me, won’t you?”

“Tell you what?” Joanna asked.

“Tell me if you find out someone else was involved,” Anna Marie said. “It wouldn’t change anything, but at least then I’d know why Lisa died-that there was an actual reason for it. That’s what I really wanted Bradley to tell me-why he did it. If he’d given me at least that much, maybe I could have forgiven him, but without knowing…” Anna Marie shook her head and didn’t finish.

“If we find out,” Joanna said, “I promise we’ll let you know. But tell me one more thing, Mrs. Crystal. Do you happen to remember when your daughter’s baby was due?”

“Oh, yes,” Anna Marie said. “I remember that perfectly. Her due date was November the fifteenth. That’s my birthday, too, so of course I remember. When Lisa told me she was pregnant, I remember telling Kenny, ”Oh, boy! By Thanksgiving we’ll be grandparents.“ But that wasn’t to be,” she added sadly.

“The families never do get over it, do they,” Frank observed, once they were back in his Crown Victoria. “But I admit, the family resemblance from Anna Marie to Lisa and from Lisa to Leslie is downright spooky. Where to now?”

But Joanna already had her phone out and was dialing Markham Realty. “Since Leslie and her husband own the place, let’s hope she doesn’t go home at the stroke of five.”

“Ms. Markham is in with a client writing up an offer,” Fran, the receptionist, told her. “It may be some time before she’s available, and I’m not allowed to interrupt.”

“That’s all right,” Joanna said. “We’ll stop by the office and wait for her to finish.”

“What’s the plan?” Frank asked.

“Leslie presumably knows the least about what went on in 1978, but she still may be able to tell us things that will help. She may be aware that she’s adopted. Then again…”

“You’re going to tell her?”

“I’m not sure,” Joanna said. “Maybe. If not, our fallback position will be DNA.”

“Which could take weeks or months to give us an answer.” Frank sighed. “I suppose it would be asking too much to hope that Leslie Markham smokes, too.”

“No,” Joanna said, “I’m sure she doesn’t. We’re going to stop by the Starbucks on our way and pick up a latte for her. When it’s time for us to leave, I’m going to count on you to bus the table- and to keep the cups straight.”

“I should be able to manage that much. By the way, Leslie is number four.”

“Number four what?”

“Mrs. Rory Markham the fourth,” Frank returned. “He married Leslie two weeks to the day after his divorce from number three was final.”

“No wonder I didn’t like the guy,” Joanna said. “He gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

“More of your good ol‘ woman’s intuition?” Frank asked.

“More like woman’s radar,” Joanna replied.

They waited in the lobby of Markham Realty until a quarter past six. When Leslie finally emerged from the conference room and escorted her client to the front door, she frowned at Frank and Joanna as she walked past. Only when the client was safely out of earshot did she whirl on them.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I already told you everything I know. I’ve never met the man who took those pictures, and Rory’s still mad at me about it. He thinks I had some kind of relationship-”

“Actually,” Joanna said, “I’m quite certain you never had a romantic relationship of any kind with the man in question. In fact, our investigation will be able to lay your husband’s concerns to rest on that score. But could we please go somewhere a little more private to discuss this? And we brought you a drink. It’s probably cool by now, but…”

She was relieved when Leslie accepted the proffered cup without a murmur and then led them into the conference room.

“Tell me about your parents,” Joanna said once they were all seated.

“My parents?” Leslie repeated. “I thought I already did that.” She paused and, to Joanna’s relief, took a tentative sip of the latte. “My father is Lawrence Tazewell-Judge Lawrence Tazewell of the Arizona Supreme Court. He lives in Phoenix with his second wife, Sharon. My mother’s last name is Houlihan,” she continued. “She took her maiden name back after the divorce, and she’s never remarried. Rory and I live with my mother on the ranch that originally belonged to her family over at the base of the Whetstones. We live in one house and Mother lives in another. She used to raise quarter horses, but she doesn’t do that anymore.”

“Used to?” Joanna asked.

Leslie nodded. “She hasn’t been well for several years now- one of those degenerative things. When it got to be too much for her, we sold off most of the livestock.”

“What’s your date of birth?” Joanna asked.

“Why?” Leslie returned.

“Humor me,” Joanna said.

Leslie sighed. “All right. October twenty-eighth, 1978. Actually, it’s a fun story.”

Joanna felt a quickening of excitement. Leslie’s birth date fit. October 28 was the day before Bradley Evans had been arrested. Anna Marie had told them Lisa Evans had been due on November 15, but if the baby had been born two weeks early, no one might have noticed.

“What kind of story?” Joanna asked.

“More like a family legend,” Leslie conceded. “And, of course, everything I’m telling you is secondhand. The first time I heard it, I was just a kid and I thought it was incredibly embarrassing. Now it seems pretty amazing. Anyway, my father was away the week my mother was due to give birth. He was somewhere out of state at a conference for judges, and my mother was out on the ranch. My grandfather had remodeled the old bunkhouse for them to live in. As a matter of fact, that’s the same house where Rory and I live now.

“Anyway, Mother went into labor so hard and fast that there wasn’t time enough to get her to the hospital. Fortunately, Grandma Ruth was there to help. She always said it was a real pioneering experience. They boiled water and everything. She used a kitchen shears to cut the umbilical cord. After I was born, they packed Mother and me off to the hospital in Sierra Vista to be checked out. By the time my father came home from his conference, we were both back home safe and sound.”

Of course, Joanna thought. It’s much more difficult to pull a baby switcheroo if you’re in a hospital setting.

Joanna had come to the office with every intention of pulling out the damning photographs and trying to get some straight answers, but clearly Leslie was an innocent bystander here. She didn’t deserve to be asked the tough questions. Aileen Houlihan was another matter.

“Did your mother ever mention a friend or acquaintance named Lisa?” Joanna asked. “Lisa Marie Evans?”

Leslie shook her head. “Not that I remember. Who’s she?”

“She was married to Bradley Evans, the man who took the photographs of you.”

“I remember now,” Leslie said. “You told us about her yesterday. You said Evans went to prison for murdering her-for murdering his wife.”

Joanna nodded. “Lisa was pregnant at the time she disappeared in late October of 1978,” she said. “Recently my investigators uncovered new evidence that suggests perhaps she wasn’t murdered after all.”

“And you think Lisa Evans and my mother may have been friends?”

“Possibly. I’d like to ask her about it.”

“I don’t think so,” Leslie said.

“Why not?”

“I already told you. Mother’s ill. She’s not up to having visitors.”

Rather than arguing about it, Joanna simply moved on. “What about your father?” she asked. “We’ll want to talk to him as well. I’m sure we can reach him through his office next week, but can you tell us how to get in touch with him over the weekend?”

Leslie shook her head and a shadow of sadness clouded her face. “Sorry. His home number is unlisted, and I don’t have it to give. He and my mother divorced years ago. He and I have never been close.”

Not having her father’s home phone number was about as “not close” as Joanna could imagine, but that small admission made Rory Markham’s presence in Leslie’s life far more understandable. Estranged from her father, Leslie had gone looking for a father figure-and had found one. It wasn’t all that surprising, then, that she had settled on a man who was probably only a few years younger than her biological father.

“That’s all right,” Joanna said reassuringly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to locate him even without your help.”

Leslie glanced at her watch and her eyes widened. “I didn’t know it was so late!” she exclaimed, dropping her paper cup in the trash. “Rory and I are supposed to meet someone for dinner ten minutes from now. I really must go.”

“Of course,” Joanna said. “Sorry to have kept you so long.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“Not at the moment.”

Frank paused at the doorway, motioning for the women to leave first. Once they were out in the hall, Joanna caught sight of him ducking back to retrieve Leslie’s cup.

Neither of them said anything more until they were back in the car.

“She doesn’t even have her father’s unlisted phone number?” Frank commented. “What kind of family is that?”

“A broken one,” Joanna said. “As sad as she was, I just couldn’t bring myself to blow her out of the water,” she added once the car doors closed.

“I couldn’t have done it either,” Frank said. “So it’s on to plan B, which means we’re back to getting the DNA tested?”

“That’s about it,” Joanna said. “The testing itself can be done in a matter of hours. The big problem will be pushing this to the top of the list. Once we have the samples there, I’ll see what I can do to get things moving.”

“What about me?” Frank asked.

“See what you can do about locating Lawrence Tazewell’s address as well as his unlisted phone number. With a federal judgeship hanging in the balance, I’m wondering about him.”

“As in, Bradley shows up with a handful of pictures that pretty well proves Lawrence Tazewell knowingly sent an innocent man up the river. The next thing that happens is his federal bench nomination is in the toilet.”

“Exactly,” Joanna agreed. “Sounds like possible motive to me.”

“But if he’s a suspect, what makes you think the man will talk to us?” Frank asked.

“We’ll just have to try,” Joanna said. “And if he doesn’t, maybe Aileen will.”

“But Leslie said…”

“I know she said her mother wasn’t up to having visitors,” Joanna returned. “But this is a homicide investigation. One way or the other, we’re going to talk to the woman.”

“Tonight?” Frank asked.

Joanna looked at the clock on the dash. It was almost seven, and she had yet to call Butch to let him know she’d be late for dinner.

“No, not tonight,” she said. “If Aileen really is ill, it’s probably too late to drop by to see her. Tomorrow will be plenty of time.”

“But tomorrow’s Saturday,” Frank objected. “Are you sure you want to work on Saturday?”

“Working on a Saturday before the baby is born will be easier than working any day of the week afterward. Yes, I’m working tomorrow. What about you?”

Frank Montoya shook his head. “You’re hopeless,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Joanna asked.

“If you can’t figure out how to take even so much as a weekend off, I doubt you’re going to be any good at maternity leave.”

Joanna should have been able to object, but she couldn’t because it occurred to her as soon as Frank said it that he was probably right.