J.A. Jance - Dead Wrong

“George was acting funny,” Butch said. “It made me think something was up. But I’m glad the boxes are safe and sound.”

“And how are things on the home front?” Joanna asked.

“Quiet. Mom and Dad unhitched their Tracker and went out sightseeing this morning. They told me not to plan on cooking dinner. They want to take us out.”

“Where to?”

“Someplace nice was what I was told, so I’ve made reservations at the restaurant at Rob Roy Links.”

“Sounds good,” Joanna said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

With that she went back to work. She stayed glued to her desk until almost two o’clock dealing with a slew of end-of-the-month reports.

Finally Kristin showed up in her doorway. “I thought you had a doctor’s appointment,” she said, pointing at her watch.

With a dismayed glance at the clock on her office wall, Joanna bounded out of her chair. “Thanks,” she said. “I was so engrossed that I would have missed it.”

While sitting in Dr. Tommy Lee’s waiting room, Joanna found her head lolling back. The next thing she knew, Sugie Richards, Dr. Lee’s receptionist, was shaking her awake.

“Sheriff Brady. Sheriff Brady. Are you all right?”

Embarrassed, Joanna looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed. Obviously several people had.

“I’m fine,” she said impatiently. “It’s nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix.”

“Well, it’s time for you to come in now,” Sugie said. “The doctor’s ready to see you. Come on in and put on a gown.”

With people still staring at her, Joanna got up and waddled into the examination room. “How are things?” Dr. Lee asked when he appeared in the doorway several minutes later.

“I’m tired,” she said. “I’m tired and cranky and ready to be done carrying this baby. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Dr. Lee agreed.

His examination was perfunctory. “A few more days,” Dr. Lee said at last. “It won’t be long now.”

That’s easy for you to say, Joanna thought. Your mother-in-law isn’t parked in your driveway waiting for this damned kid to put in an appearance.

“You can get dressed now,” the doctor added. “Then we’ll talk-Stuffed back inside the confines of her maternity uniform, Joanna went into Dr. Lee’s office and took a seat beside his desk.

“You seem a little stressed,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Butch’s parents are here,” she said.

Dr. Lee studied her face. “Is that all?”

She remembered her panicked call to Marianne. “You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Tell you what?”

“If something was wrong with the baby,” Joanna said in a rush. “I mean, if there were pieces missing or if something wasn’t working right.”

“Of course I would,” he assured her with a smile. “I would have told you long before this. Whatever would have made you think I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Joanna answered wanly. “I guess I just needed something to worry about.”

“We doctors call it third-trimester paranoia,” he said with a smile. “Believe me. That kind of thinking is completely normal.”

Joanna had barely returned to her office when an almost giddy Debbie Howell bounded into the room. “Look,” she said, waving a fistful of papers in the air. “The woman in Brad Evans’s pictures. I finally talked to a Fry’s checkout clerk who was able to look at the pictures and give me the woman’s name-Leslie Markham. I came back to the office, Googled the name, and found her! Here she is. She and her husband, Rory Markham, own a real estate company out in Sierra Vista. I downloaded this from their website.”

Joanna took the proffered pieces of paper. While she read through them, Debbie, too excited to sit, paced the floor. Rory Markham, Real Estate Group, LLC, was a brokerage specializing in “fine homes and ranches.” Rory, who was evidently both owner and broker of the firm, was a tanned, silver-haired gentleman who looked to be in his late fifties. Just under the company name was a color photo of Mr. Markham with a radiantly smiling Leslie standing at his side. Leslie’s photo turned up a second time among the head shots of salespeople working for the company. In the associates section her caption read: “Leslie Tazewell Markham.”

“Looks like she started out as an associate and ended up marrying the boss,” Joanna said.

Debbie nodded. “I believe it’s called marrying up.”

“In every sense of the word,” Joanna added. “She looks like she’s barely mid-twenties and he’s what, early fifties?”

“At least,” Debbie agreed. “He could be even older than that.” Joanna remembered what Ted Chapman had said- something to the effect that younger women only threw themselves at older men if money was involved. From the looks of the man in the picture it appeared that there couldn’t be more than a couple of years of difference in age between Rory Markham and Bradley Evans. So maybe Leslie Markham had a thing for older men.

“Do Jaime and Ernie know about this?” Joanna asked. “Not yet,” Debbie said. “I came straight here to tell you.”

“I’m glad to know about it, but they’re your partners on this,” Joanna reminded her. “Whatever you know, they need to know.”

“Right,” Debbie said. “I’ll see if I can locate them.” She left Joanna’s office, taking the website information on Rory Markham Real Estate with her when she went. Within minutes Debbie was back, bringing the Double Cs with her.

“Look who I found,” she said. “They were just pulling into the parking lot.”

Ernie was scanning the Leslie Markham info as he followed Debbie into Joanna’s office. “Well,” he said, tossing the papers on the small conference table in one corner of the room, “this is all very interesting. Now that we know who she is, the question has to be: Is she a victim here or is she the perpetrator?”

“Maybe she’s both,” Joanna suggested.

“What do you mean?” Ernie asked.

“First, tell me. What did you find out down in Douglas?”

“Nothing bad,” Jaime admitted. “All the guys at the prison, the ones Brad Evans was working with on a regular basis, thought he was a great guy. For one thing, he evidently learned to speak Spanish-fluent Spanish-while he was in prison. So when he was counseling the guys, he could do it in English or Spanish, which isn’t nearly as common as you’d think. And he’s evidently stayed in touch with a couple of the guys who were local after they were released. They told us that they saw him at AA meetings, in Douglas and in Agua Prieta. But none of them mentioned Brad having a girlfriend. Nobody hinted that he might be gay or anything like that. It’s just that if he had relationships with women, he never told anyone.”

“Did anyone mention a pen-pal situation?” Joanna asked.

“Nope.”

“So here we are then,” Joanna said. “What we know is that, for whatever reason, Brad Evans was definitely interested in Leslie Markham-a happily and possibly recently married woman. Let’s suppose for a minute that she and Brad did have a relationship of some kind, one that none of his friends happen to know anything about. Maybe it was over as far as she was concerned, but Brad was still hanging on.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” Ernie said. “Somehow she gets wind that Brad Evans is still sniffing around. Leslie doesn’t want to rock the boat with her husband, this Markham guy, so she takes Evans out of the picture permanently.”

“Which makes her a possible stalking victim and a possible homicide suspect,” Joanna returned. “Like I said earlier-maybe she’s both.”