“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 Senor 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 Senor Houlihan 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. Senora 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.