Dead Wrong

“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,” Joa

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,” Joa

“My parents?” Leslie repeated. “I thought I already did that.” She paused and, to Joa

“Used to?” Joa

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?” Joa

“Why?” Leslie returned.

“Humor me,” Joa

Leslie sighed. “All right. October twenty-eighth, 1978. Actually, it’s a fun story.”

Joa

“What kind of story?” Joa

“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, Joa

Joa

“Did your mother ever mention a friend or acquaintance named Lisa?” Joa

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.”

Joa

“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, Joa

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 Joa

“That’s all right,” Joa

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 di

“Of course,” Joa

“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, Joa

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,” Joa

“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,” Joa

“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 i

“Exactly,” Joa

“But if he’s a suspect, what makes you think the man will talk to us?” Frank asked.

“We’ll just have to try,” Joa

“But Leslie said…”

“I know she said her mother wasn’t up to having visitors,” Joa

“Tonight?” Frank asked.

Joa

“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?”