Dead Wrong

“I hope not,” Joa

Tazewell shook his head. “I’m not so sure about that. If Aileen was able to pull the wool over my eyes as thoroughly and as easily as this, I’m too damned stupid to sit on the Arizona Supreme Court!”

With that he turned and strode out of the office.

“He’s upset,” Frank said as the door closed.

“I’ll say,” Joa

“Right now?” Frank asked.

“Does either one of us have something better to do?” Joa

“Bring them along,” Frank said. “I’ll drive. We can talk about those as we go.”

Buckled into the passenger seat of Frank’s Crown Victoria, Joa

Joa

“Yup,” Frank agreed with a grin. “Address, phone number, and everything. Isn’t that why you keep me on the payroll?”

“And she still lives in Sierra Vista,” Joa

The last piece of paper was a copy of a phone message addressed to Debbie Howell. It listed the name Manfred Oxhill along with a Sierra Vista telephone number.

“Who’s Manfred?” Joa

Frank gri

“Surely we wouldn’t be lucky enough that the killer used a credit card,” Joa

“You’d be surprised,” Frank replied. “Most crooks get caught because they’re dumb, not because we’re all that clever.”

“What time does Mr. Oxhill get off work?”

“Six,” Frank answered. “So maybe we can see him today as well.”

“Anything on Jea

Frank nodded. “I called Millicent and checked with her. Jean-nine’s been upgraded to serious, so that’s good. It sounds like she’s making progress.”

Glad for any sign of improvement, Joa

After nights of chronic sleep deprivation, Joa

After crossing three separate cattle guards and opening and closing two gates, they arrived. There were two distinctly separate ranch houses on the property. What appeared to be the main one was set behind a white picket fence. It was a rambling old-fashioned, frame-style place with recently added vinyl siding and a standing-seam metal roof. A generous roof overhang created a shady front porch and allowed for covered verandas on either side of the house. A bank of brightly blooming honeysuckle grew around the base of the front porch. Halfway to the house a well-made wooden wheelchair ramp broke away from the sidewalk and led up to the side of the porch, where one section of wooden rails had been removed to allow access.

Frank was turning into the yard when, on the far side of a metal barn, Joa

“What the-I” she began.

“Is something wrong?”

“That’s Lawrence Tazewell’s blue-and-white Cessna.”

“But you told him not to come here,” Frank returned.

“Evidently he didn’t pay any attention.”

Joa

“Get out! You’ve got no business coming here!” Leslie Markham shouted.

“I just want to see her, to talk to her,” Tazewell objected.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Leslie declared. “She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, especially you. How dare you come flying in after all these years as if you still owned the place?”

The front door was open. Joa

“I never ‘owned the place,” as you call it,“ Tazewell said reasonably. ”The Triple H always belonged to your grandparents and to your mother. I was always an interloper.“

“And you still are. Now go.”

“Have you asked your mother if she wants to see me?” he asked. “Does she know I’m here?”

“She doesn’t, and I’m not going to tell her,” Leslie responded. “She’s too ill. I want you to leave. Now.”

“I know all about Huntington’s disease,” Tazewell said. “How far has it progressed? How bad is it?”

“You don’t know anything about it!” Leslie shot back. “How would you? You’ve been up in Phoenix the whole time. Dolores Mattias and I are the ones who’ve been taking care of her- Dolores and Rory and me and a couple of nurses who come in on a part-time basis. And we don’t talk about it with outsiders, either. Mother didn’t… doesn’t want people to know about this Huntington‘s thing. It’s nobody else’s business what’s wrong with her.”

“Rory!” Tazewell exclaimed. “What the hell can you see in an old coot like him? For God’s sakes, Leslie, you’re a beautiful young woman. Rory Markham is almost as old as I am.”

“And unlike you, Rory’s always been here for me,” Leslie retorted. “He’s helped me take care of Mother and locate the kind of nursing help we’ve needed. He’s looked after the business end of the ranch all the while he’s been ru

“Of course he’s looking after the ranch,” Tazewell said. “What do you expect? That’s what he’s here for. He’s always wanted the ranch. Don’t you understand, Leslie? Your mother is dying. Marrying you is one sure way for Rory Markham to finally lay his greedy hands on the Triple H.”

“That’s not true. Now get out and leave us alone!” Leslie’s final outburst was followed by the sound of breaking glass. Dodging splintering crystal, Lawrence Tazewell burst out through the screen door, almost flattening Joa

“I told you not to come here,” a seething Joa