J.A. Jance - Dead Wrong

“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.”