Dead Wrong (29 page)

“What married woman?” Joanna asked.

“I really shouldn’t say,” Barbara
hedged. “Really. People could still get hurt. I mean,
he’s married now. Knowing about this would probably hurt her
feelings.”

“If it happened long before he married his
current wife, why would it hurt her?” Joanna asked.

Barbara sighed. “Because the woman’s
name was Ruth,” she said at last.

“Ruth Houlihan?” Joanna demanded.
“Leslie Markham’s grandmother?”

“You already know about them, then?”
Barbara asked. “In that case I don’t suppose my two
cents’ worth will make any difference. Ruth’s husband
was a lot older than she was, and Rory was a real hunk back in
those days. Old Mr. Houlihan hired Rory to do odd jobs around the
ranch, and he ended up balling the missus behind the old
man’s back. The two of them would ride up into the hills to
an old line shack and screw their brains out. The Houlihans had a
daughter named Aileen who was about the same age as Lisa and me.
Ruth and Rory both pretended he was interested in the daughter, but
that was just a convenient cover.”

Barbara stopped talking for a moment, then added,
“I do feel guilty to be gossiping like this, but even after
all these years, I’m still more than a little pissed at the
man for what he did to me. Thank God I didn’t marry him,
though. I can’t imagine what that would have been like. Rory
Markham is a real piece of work.”

I couldn’t agree
more,
Joanna thought.

Her cell phone rang just then. “I’m
sorry, Mrs. Petrocelli. I need to take that. Can I call you back
later?”

“Sure. Feel free. I’ll do whatever I
can to help.”

When Joanna picked up her cell phone, Frank was on
the line. “When are you going to be here?” he said.
“The cameras are ready to roll, and so is the first batch of
puppies.”

“I’m afraid you and I are going to miss
the puppy party,” Joanna said.

“Why? What’s going on?” Frank
demanded.

“We need to pay a call on Rory
Markham,” Joanna said. “Because one of Lisa Marie
Evans’s friends has just connected some of our missing
dots.”

K
nowing there was no way she’d be able
to dodge in and out of the Justice Center without being
photographed, Joanna took time enough to do what she could with her
hair and makeup before she left the house. And she was right. As
soon as she drove into the complex, a group of reporters began
following her. Rather than leading them to the relative privacy of
her backdoor entrance, she stopped directly in front of the
building and marched through the throng to the spot near the front
entrance where Frank, holding a wiggly pit bull puppy, was doing
his best to carry on a press briefing.

He looked at her gratefully. “And
here’s Sheriff Brady right now,” he said.

As Joanna stepped to the collection of microphones,
Frank took the opportunity to duck inside and divest himself of the
puppy. Prepared for a grilling about the fate of the unfortunate
animals Millicent Ross had found it necessary to euthanize,
Joanna was astonished to find no one was the least
bit interested in those. Everyone wanted to know about the puppies.
How long would they be in her jail? Who had come up with the idea?
Did the inmates mind? Did the guards? Was it true that a benefactor
was providing the money to pay for this so it wasn’t coming
out of public funds?

When Frank reemerged minus the wiggling puppy,
Joanna was happy to turn the briefing back over to him. “With
this mob to handle, I can see you’re not going
anywhere,” she said. “What about Debbie or
Jaime?”

“They’re back up at San Simon,”
he said. “But Ernie’s here.”

“Ernie!” Joanna exclaimed. “I
thought he was off on medical leave.”

“So did I,” Frank said. “But he
turned up first thing this morning itching to go back to
work.”

“Where is he?”

“At his desk reading up on everything
he’s missed.”

Joanna went inside and found Ernie in his cubicle.
“Are you sure you should be working?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you,”
he returned. “But yes, I need to be here. Rose said either I
came to work or she was getting a divorce. Besides, Frank said you
might need some help.”

“It’s the Bradley Evans case. As I
recall, you weren’t too thrilled about working it last
week.”

“That was before I was stuck at home for what
felt like forever. I’ll work whatever needs working. Where
are we going and what car do we take?”

Joanna handed him her keys. “We’ll take
mine,” she said. “It’s parked out front, but
there’s no way I’m going back through that crowd of
reporters to get it.”

Minutes later, Ernie drove the Crown Victoria up to
Joanna’s private entrance. They left the Cochise Justice
Center complex without fanfare.

“Where to?”

“It’s Sunday afternoon,” Joanna
said, glancing at her watch. “Prime real estate time.
Let’s see if Mr. Markham happens to be in his
office.”

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist
told Joanna when she called. “He’s not in. Some kind of
family emergency. Can I take a message?”

“Never mind,” Joanna said without
leaving her name. “Maybe I can catch him at home.”

“To the Triple H, then?” Ernie
asked.

Joanna nodded. On the way she told Ernie as much as
she could remember about what they had uncovered concerning Lisa
Marie and Bradley Evans and about Rory and Leslie Markham as well.
Ernie was appalled.

“You’re telling me Rory Markham once
had an affair with the grandmother of the woman who’s now his
wife? What is he, some kind of pervert?”

“The presumed grandmother,” Joanna
corrected. “And no, I don’t think Rory’s
necessarily a pervert. He’s a cagey operator who’s also
very dangerous. I’m almost certain that he must have had some
involvement with whatever happened to Lisa Marie back in 1978.
Having Bradley show up unexpectedly on his doorstep after all these
years and start asking about Lisa must have thrown Markham for a
loop. He couldn’t afford to have his possible involvement
come to light. He opted for damage control and got rid of Bradley.
I’m sure he was convinced there’d be no way to link the
crime back to him and that would be the end of it.”

“This is all gut instinct, though,”
Ernie grumbled. “Gut instinct and theory. We’ve got no
solid evidence to back any of this up.”

“You’re right,” Joanna said.
“But by the time we finish talking to him, maybe we will
have.”

“You take the lead, then,” Ernie said.
“I can’t see how this is going to pull
together.”

Joanna wasn’t sure she did either, but she
spent the next part of the drive thinking about the entry in her
father’s diary—about how he felt that sending Bradley
Evans to prison for his young wife’s murder was “dead
wrong.” Other than Bradley, no other possible suspects had
ever been named or even mentioned.

But here was Rory Markham caught up in the middle
of it. And not, as Lawrence Tazewell had so readily assumed, as
Aileen’s sometime boyfriend, but as Ruth’s. And who was
Ruth? Someone cold-blooded enough to want her daughter to abort a
child rather than give birth to one at risk of developing
Huntington’s disease.

“What if Aileen never knew about any of
it?” Joanna said aloud.

“Never knew what?”

“That Ruth and Rory had somehow arranged to
substitute Lisa Marie’s baby for Aileen’s? According to
Leslie, Aileen was eager for Leslie to be married so that if and
when she did develop HD, she’d have someone to take care of
her. But if Aileen had known about the switch, then she’d
also have known that there was no reason for her to worry about the
possibility of Leslie developing Huntington’s.”

Ernie wasn’t buying it. “Women usually
know when they have babies. Rose sure as hell did. How’s that
possible?”

“Leslie told me she was born at home—on
the ranch—the
same day Lisa Marie Evans
disappeared. Aileen’s mother was a nurse. Maybe she exchanged
one baby for another without Aileen’s knowledge. Who knows?
But when Ruth arrived at the hospital later on that day with a
newborn baby and with a woman who had clearly just given birth in
tow, no one would have thought to question whether or not the baby
was really hers.”

“So when Bradley Evans turns up claiming
Leslie Markham is his daughter, it’s news to
everybody.”

“News to everybody except Rory,” Joanna
said. “And because he was involved with whatever went on back
then, Rory couldn’t afford to have Bradley waving
Lisa’s picture around and asking too many
questions.”

“You’re right,” Ernie agreed.
“That scenario provides some motive, but I still don’t
think it’s possible. How could Rory and the grandmother pull
it off? Someone had to lure Lisa away from the dry cleaner’s.
Someone else had to deal with Bradley Evans. And then there’s
the question of being there at the ranch when Aileen gave birth.
How could Ruth and Rory manage all of that by
themselves?”

“Maybe they didn’t,” Joanna said
suddenly. “Maybe they had help.”

“Who?”

“What about Joaquin Mattias?”

“The guy whose wife reported him missing this
morning?” Ernie asked.

Joanna nodded. “The same guy whose wife
bought the paint primer that was used to camouflage Bradley
Evans’s truck.”

“But what makes you think…?”

“A hunch,” Joanna said. “Based on
something Dolores Mattias said to me last night.”

Ernie emitted a long-suffering sigh. “I
always hate it when
you go off on one of these
‘woman’s intuition’ routines,” he said.
“It’s not professional.”

“But it sometimes gets results,” Joanna
countered.

A few minutes later, when they pulled into the yard
at the Mattias place, Dolores hurried out to meet them as they
exited the car. “He’s not here,” she said.

Joanna sent a meaningful glance in Ernie’s
direction. In a missing-persons case, that was the wrong thing for
a family member to say. “Did you find him?” Yes.
“Has something happened?” Yes. “Is he
hurt?” Yes. “He’s not here?” Definitely a
no-no.

“This is Detective Ernie Carpenter,”
Joanna said easily. “This is Mrs. Mattias, Ernie. We’d
like to ask you a few more questions.”

“I’m busy right now,” Dolores
objected. “Couldn’t we do this later?”

“It won’t take long,” Joanna
said. “I want to go over something you told us last
night—about how once, a long time ago, your husband had a
girlfriend.”

Dolores Mattias stood absolutely still. She seemed
to be holding her breath. “Yes,” she said finally.
“Yes, he did.”

“Who was she?” Joanna asked.

“I don’t see how that can matter
now,” Dolores said. “It’s over. She’s
dead.”

“Was Joaquin’s lover Ruth
Houlihan?” Joanna asked.

Dolores’s mouth dropped open, then she closed
it again and said nothing.

“Was she?” Joanna demanded.

“What if she was?” Dolores said
finally. “I never told anyone. Certainly not Señor
Houlihan, and not Aileen either. Joaquin told me it was over, and
there was no reason to carry tales. It would have been too hurtful.
It would have killed Señor Houli
han to
know his wife had been unfaithful, and it would have embarrassed
Aileen. Why bring it up?”

“You never told anyone?”

“No. Joaquin told me it had happened, and I
could see why. Señora Ruth was a very beautiful woman. But
when he said it was over and begged my forgiveness, I forgave him,
and we moved on.”

“Did you know Ruth Houlihan was thought to be
having an affair with Rory Markham at the same time?”

Dolores Mattias seemed to be astonished by that
news. “No,” she said. “Rory was Aileen’s
friend, not her mother’s.”

While Joanna engaged Dolores in conversation, Ernie
Carpenter had edged away from the Crown Victoria. Stealthily
crossing the yard, he approached the double door on an attached
garage. With his Colt .45 in one hand, he wrenched open one of the
two hinged doors with the other. Inside the garage was Joaquin
Mattias’s Dodge Ram pickup, but no Joaquin.

Ernie reholstered his gun and returned to where
Joanna and Dolores were standing. “There’s no one
there, but the back of the truck is full of luggage, Sheriff
Brady,” he said.

“Where is he, Mrs. Mattias?” Joanna
asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“You have to tell us,” Joanna insisted.
“Your husband is a person of interest in at least one
homicide and maybe more. We need to find him.”

“He’s afraid,” Dolores said.
“Someone is after him.”

“Besides us, you mean?”

Dolores nodded.

“Then let us protect him. Where is
he?”

Tipping her head, Dolores gestured toward the
mountains. “Up there,” she said.

“In the Whetstones?” Joanna asked.
“What’s he doing up there, hiding?”

“No,” Dolores said. “I wanted to
leave two hours ago, but he said there was something he had to do
first—some kind of unfinished business.”

“And where are you going?”

“Back to Mexico,” Dolores said.
“None of Joaquin’s people are there anymore, but I
thought if we once crossed the border, maybe no one would know
where to look for us.”

“What’s Joaquin doing in the
mountains?” Ernie asked.

“I already told you, I don’t
know,” Dolores replied. “He wouldn’t tell me.
Just something he had to do.”

“Is he armed?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you tell us how to get where he
is?” Ernie asked.

“No,” Dolores said. “But I can
take you there. I dropped him off and came back here to finish
packing. I’m to pick him up at four o’clock.”

Joanna heard the distinctive
pop, pop, pop
of gunfire. Echoes reverberated off
one canyon wall after another as three separate gunshots bounced
down the mountain.

Dolores looked stricken. She turned and started for
the garage and the pickup. Ernie caught her arm and pulled her
back. “No,” he said.

“But I’ve got to go,” she
pleaded. “Didn’t you hear that?”

“Tell us how to get there,” Joanna
said.

“It’s too complicated. You’ll
never find it. Please, let me go.”

“Get in the back of the Crown Victoria, Mrs.
Mattias,”
Joanna said. “Ernie will
drive. You can direct us until we’re close enough to find the
way.”

“But the road’s too rough,”
Dolores objected. “You’ll never make it without
four-wheel drive.”

“We’ll make it as far as we can and
then we’ll walk.”

Without further objection, Dolores allowed herself
to be ushered into the Crown Victoria. Once Joanna was inside, she
belted herself in and grabbed for the radio.

“Shots fired,” she said. “On the
Triple H. We need backup.”

“Whereabouts?” Tica Romero asked.
“That ranch is a big place.”

“We don’t know exactly,” Joanna
said. “We’ll leave roadside flares along the way
wherever we turn off. That’s the best we can do.”

At the point where the main road continued on to
the ranch house, Dolores directed them off to the left and onto a
much smaller dirt track. Ernie got out and collected the Crown
Victoria’s supply of flares. He lit one and left it in the
middle of the road they were following, then he returned to the
driver’s seat and turned the remaining flares over to
Joanna.

“Dispatch has three cars on the way,”
she said. “I’ve given them verbal instructions as
well.”

Half a mile later, Dolores directed them to the
right along a dry creek bed and into a narrow canyon. This time
Joanna was the one who got out and lit the flare. The road ahead
was rough and steep. “How much farther?” she asked once
she was back in the car.

“About another quarter mile,” Dolores
answered. “Then there’s a gate.”

Joanna turned to Ernie. “Do you think you can
make it?”

“We’ll see.”

Tica’s voice came through on the radio.
“It turns out Deputy Raymond is in the area. He’s
already turned off onto Triple H Ranch Road. The other two deputies
are in Huachuca City and over near Kartchner Caverns. They should
arrive soon as well.”