“Did you say anything to him about it?” Joanna asked. “Did you ask him where he’d been or what he’d been doing?”
Dolores shook her head. “Joaquin’s a cowboy. He’s always been a handsome man,” she said. “Years ago he had a girlfriend. When I found out about it, he broke it off, but I was afraid it might be happening again-that he had a new girlfriend.”
“And what do you think now?”
“I no longer believe he was using the primer to help a friend paint his car,” she said slowly. “I think Joaquin may have done something far worse than having a girlfriend.” It was a painful admission for Dolores to make. Joanna’s heart went out to her.
“I’m sorry to put you through all this, Mrs. Mattias. Maybe we’re all wrong. Maybe when we find Joaquin, he’ll be able to give us a reasonable explanation for all this. But for right now, we should probably be going. Here’s my card. Please call me if he comes home or if you hear from him. We need to talk to him.”
Dolores Mattias stared blindly at the card without benefit of her reading glasses. Then she dropped it on the table beside her. “Will he go to prison?” she asked.
If Joaquin Mattias was convicted of being involved in a murder, he would certainly go to prison. It was possible Joaquin’s involvement was limited to helping move the body, but these days even that was considered a felony.
“I don’t know,” Joanna said. “That depends on what, if anything, he’s done.”
“Yes,” Dolores Mattias said softly. “I understand.”
As they walked toward the Crown Victoria, Frank made his feelings clear. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded. “We want to talk to him? It sounds to me as though Joaquin Mattias is in this up to his eyeballs.”
“I didn’t want to scare the poor woman any more than necessary, but what she told us was important. If we play her right, she may tell us even more.”
“For instance.”
“We know from her that Bradley Evans came to Aileen’s house. Given Bradley Evans’s frame of mind at the time, I think it’s fair to assume that he and Rory Markham would have had some kind of altercation. Yet, when I showed Bradley’s photo to the Markhams, Rory categorically denied ever having seen the man.”
“So Rory’s a liar.”
“He’s a liar, all right,” Joanna said. “He lied to me, and I believe he’s also lying to his wife. If we were to ask Leslie about it, I bet we’d learn that she’s entirely in the dark about her husband’s grand plan to subdivide the Triple H. Leslie is young, relatively inexperienced, and susceptible to Rory’s bullying. I’ve seen him do it firsthand. He’s under the impression that the moment Aileen dies, the coast will be clear for him to do whatever he wants.”
“If Hospice is coming in on the case, it probably won’t be long before that happens,” Frank added. “Days or even weeks. What are the chances he’s already greased the skids as far as Planning and Zoning is concerned?”
“Can you check on that?” Joanna asked.
“Will do.”
“So here’s Rory, about to make a killing with this real estate deal. Everything is going swimmingly, then Bradley Evans shows up. Next thing you know, Evans is dead, and Rory Markham seems to be the last person who saw the victim alive. Given the lies he told us about not knowing Evans, that turns him into our prime suspect.”
“But why would Markham do it?” Frank asked. “What’s his motive?”
“Somehow Bradley Evans posed a threat to Rory Markham’s grand design.”
“What kind of threat?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“Where to next?” Frank asked, turning his key in the ignition. “Home?”
“Sounds good to me. It’s been a very long day.”
Frank took her as far as the Justice Center, where she moved from his Crown Victoria to hers. By the time she got home it was after eleven and the household was asleep. Only Lady came to the door to greet her, and Butch didn’t budge when she crawled into bed beside him.
She woke up late to the smell of frying bacon and waddled out to the kitchen. “I won’t even ask how your day was yesterday,” Butch said, kissing her good morning. “I think I already know. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a brick. I was too tired to do anything else.”
“Are you going in to work today?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What about church?” Butch asked.
“I need a robe day,” Joanna said. “Call me a backslider, but I just want to sit around in my nightgown for a change.”
“You’ve certainly earned it,” Butch said, “but you might want to give your mother a call before it gets much later. She phoned yesterday.”
“Annoyed because she hasn’t heard from me?”
“You must be psychic,” Butch said with a grin.
“Are you in labor?” Eleanor Lathrop Winfield demanded as soon as she heard her daughter’s voice.
“No, Mom, I’m not.”
“Oh,” Eleanor said. “Since you couldn’t be bothered to call with the news that you’re having a boy, I thought this must be really important.”
“I’ve been busy,” Joanna said. “I’ve been working.”
“I don’t know why,” Eleanor sniffed. “Someone in your condition shouldn’t be traipsing all over hell and gone and getting involved in shoot-outs, for Pete’s sake. It was all over the news. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”
Eleanor’s disapproval of her daughter’s continuing to work during her pregnancy was a long-standing bone of contention between them. Forget the fact that the “shoot-out” had most likely saved a little girl’s life. Detective Newton‘s snide references to Joanna’s condition had been annoying. Eleanor’s were far more hurtful.
“I was doing my job, Mother,” Joanna said. “And I intend to continue doing it.”
“I don’t understand how DNA works,” Eleanor said. “You’re just like your father and nothing at all like me.”
Thank God, Joanna thought.
“But now that I have you on the phone, do you and Butch want to come over for dinner? George is all hot to trot to fire up his barbecue. It’s only March, but as far as he’s concerned it’s the beginning of summer.”
“I’ll check with Butch and let you know.”
Butch, it turned out, was agreeable. “It’ll give us a chance to do a little fence-mending,” he said. “Find out what time.”
After making arrangements with Eleanor for them to go to dinner at six, Joanna spent the rest of the morning at the desk in her home office. She called into the department and talked to Frank, who brought her up-to-date on the latest happenings. There was still no word of any kind from Joaquin Mattias. Dolores had now filed a formal missing-persons report. Antonio Zavala had undergone surgery at UMC to repair his damaged foot, and Jail Commander Tom Hadlock had made arrangements to hire two off-duty Tucson PD officers to stand guard duty at Zavala’s hospital room. Jeannine’s condition, meantime, had been upgraded once again. Frank had even managed to speak to her on the phone. Pain meds or not, Jeannine had been thrilled to hear that Millicent was moving forward with the pitbull rescue project.
“You are coming in, aren’t you?” Frank asked once he finished with his telephone briefing.
“No,” Joanna said. “I hadn’t planned on it. Why?”
“Millicent Ross just came back from Tucson and dropped off her truckload of pet supplies. Tom has guards unloading and distributing those right now. Millicent expects to be back here around two to start delivering puppies to inmates, but the reporters are already here.”