“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.”
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?”
