“For someone who claims to hate driving back and forth to Tucson, it seems like he’s been doing that a lot lately.”
“Yes, it does,” Jaime agreed, but he didn’t say anything more than that, and Joanna didn’t press it.
Joanna could see that Ted was shaken by what had happened to his friend, but he was eager to be of assistance in whatever way possible. While they waited for Jaime to show up for the interview, Ted called one of the jail ministry administrators.
“Hey, Rich,” he said. “Ted Chapman here. Sorry to call you at home like this, but I have some bad news about one of your guys-Brad Evans. He’s been killed-murdered.”
Joanna waited during a long pause while the unexpected news was assimilated.
“It happened along Border Road,” Ted continued. “Someone found the body early this morning. I just identified it, but the sheriff’s department is trying to locate next of kin, and I was wondering… Sure, sure. If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great. What’s the phone number here?”
Joanna reeled it off.
“All right,” Ted said into the phone. “Call this number when you have the information. If I’m not here, ask for Sheriff Brady.”
Having put that in process, Joanna and Ted went into the conference room to await Jaime Carbajal’s arrival. The young detective came bearing gifts-a grocery-bag care package that included paper plates and plastic silverware as well as several bean-and-green-chili burritos wrapped in tinfoil and still warm to the touch.
“You didn’t eat, did you, boss?” Jaime asked.
“Not since lunch,” Joanna answered.
“That’s what Delcia thought,” he said with a grin. “She claims pregnant women need to keep up their strength. How about you, Ted? Hungry?”
“Not really,” he said, but once Joanna’s first burrito was unwrapped he succumbed and had one anyway. Joanna plowed gratefully into hers. Until she took that first bite, she had been unaware of how close she had been to running on empty.
As Jaime sat down at the table, Joanna pushed him the piece of paper on which she had jotted down Bradley Evans’s name as well as the address of his apartment in Douglas.
“I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your friend, Ted,” Jaime ventured. “What can you tell us about him?”
Ted Chapman took a deep breath. “I’ve known Brad for a long time,” he said. “Before I broke away to start the Cochise Jail Ministry, I spent years working for the Arizona State Prison Ministry. Ginny’s parents were from Douglas, and she wanted to live closer to them, so when there was an opening in Douglas, I transferred down here from Florence. Brad was already there when I arrived.
“Most convicts are con artists one way or the other. They’re like politicians. They’ll say anything to suck you into believing that their version of things is the gospel. Brad wasn’t like that. He was always a straight shooter, but tough enough that no one messed with him.”
Jaime looked up from taking notes. “What was he in for?”
“Second-degree murder,” Ted answered. “He got twenty-five-to-life for killing his wife back in the late seventies. It happened out in Sierra Vista, or maybe it was just near there, I don’t remember which.”
“I’ve asked Maggie from Records to get us the file,” Joanna said.
“I don’t remember his wife’s name, but she was pregnant at the time of her death,” Ted continued. “He was drunk and evidently functioning in a blackout when it happened. I don’t believe her body was ever found.”
“They got a conviction with no body?” Jamie asked. “That’s pretty unusual.”
Ted nodded. “There was enough blood found in Brad’s vehicle and on his body to make a pretty good case that she was dead. And with her pregnant, I guess feelings were running pretty high. Even without a body, the county attorney was prepared to go for murder one. Instead, Brad copped a plea to second degree. Like I told Sheriff Brady here, he accepted full responsibility for his actions. Based on good behavior, he probably should have been turned loose a long time before they finally let him go, but every time he came up for parole, his former mother-in-law was there at the hearing to speak in opposition.”
“How long ago did Evans get out?”
“Three or so years ago. When I first met him, I would have to say he was what they call a dry drunk-an alcoholic who wasn’t actively drinking but who hadn’t done anything about working on the underlying issues. I helped him get into the program. You know anything about the twelve steps?”
Joanna and Jaime both shook their heads.
“There are twelve steps to recovery. One of them involves making amends to all the people you may have harmed. Once Brad got into the program, he wrote a letter to his former mother-in-law, asking her forgiveness, but nothing changed her mind about him. She was at the last meeting before the parole board set him loose, and she was still adamantly opposed to their letting him out. Still, once he was on the outside, Brad stayed with AA, and he’s one of the ones who really worked his program. He was serious about it. That’s why I thought he’d be so good working with the guys in the Papago Unit as a kind of peer counselor. And he was.”
“You have no idea where Brad’s former mother-in-law lives now?”
“No,” Ted answered.
“Do you have any idea about Brad’s friends or associates?”
“Not really. I’m guessing the people he was closest to will be the ones he was working with at the prison, maybe some of the guards, but they wouldn’t know him nearly as well as the inmates he was counseling.”
Jaime nodded. “We’ll get down there tomorrow and talk to them. It’s a start. Can you think of anything else?”
Ted shook his head. “Pride’s a terrible thing,” he said bleakly.
“Why do you say that?” Joanna asked.
“Because when Brad went missing, I was convinced he had fallen off the wagon. I was terribly disappointed in him, mainly because I thought it would reflect badly on me. The first thing that went through my head when I saw him uptown in the morgue was that at least he wasn’t drunk. It makes me ashamed to think that idea even crossed my mind. What kind of person would think that way?”
“Lots of them, Ted,” Joanna said. “Give yourself a break.” She turned to Jaime. “Can you think of anything else we need to ask?”
“When was he last seen at work?” Jaime asked.
“Tuesday. He had Wednesdays off.”
“All right, then,” Jaime said. “That’s about it.”
“I can go, then?” Ted asked.
“Sure,” Joanna said with a smile. “Go home to Ginny I’m sure she’s worried about you. If we need anything else, we know how to get hold of you.”
Jaime waited until Ted Chapman had left the room. “So you win the prize, boss,” he said. “John Doe turns out to be an ex-con with alcohol problems. I believe you called that one right on the money.”
“But we still don’t know who killed him,” Joanna returned.
There was a light knock on the conference-room door. Maggie Mendoza came in carrying a computer printout. “This is what the Department of Corrections has on Mr. Evans,” she said.
Joanna took the file. She hadn’t planned to look at it in any detail. Her intention was to glance at it briefly and then pass it over to Jaime so he could study it, but then a familiar name leaped off one of the pages: D. H. Lathrop! When Brad Evans was first picked up in October of 1978, Joanna’s own father had been the arresting officer.
Joanna felt a sudden shiver of recognition. It was as though her father had reached out from beyond the grave and tapped her on the shoulder. She hurried to the conference-room door and called after Maggie, who was on her way back to her desk.
“Wait a minute.” She turned back to Jaime. “What’s the wife’s name?”
Jaime picked up the papers and scanned through them. “Lisa Marie Evans.”