Evidence of Guilt (29 page)

That was the problem with radio news: You miss it and it's gone. With the newspaper you can go back and reread a story as many times as you like, dissecting it word by word.

I'd let my attention wander, but I was sure I'd heard the name correctly. And there couldn't be two Dr. Markleys in Sierra Vista. I turned left at the next intersection and headed to the police station to see Daryl Benson.

Most days I have to wheedle my way past Helga, who watches over the inner sanctum of the police department

like an armed sentry. But when I got there today she wasn't yet at her desk. I mentally thumbed my nose as I passed.

Benson was hunched over his desk, phone pressed to his ear, when I rapped softly on his open door. He grinned and motioned for me to sit.

A moment later he hung up and said, "What a wonderful surprise. You had breakfast?"

I nodded.

"How about a cup of coffee then?"

"I'll pass, but thanks."

Benson frowned, rocked back in his chair, eyed me warily. "This is shaping up to look an awful lot like a business call. You've got that look about you."

"Well, I--"

"And here I was hoping you had stopped by just to say hello."

I offered an apologetic smile. "Not this morning, I'm afraid."

"So what is it? Something to do with Wes Harding, I bet"

It was my turn to frown. "That's what I'm not sure about. I heard a report on the radio about an auto accident near Cottonwood Canyon. A woman was killed. Dr. Donna Markley. She's a local psychiatrist. What can you tell me about it?"

"Not much. The sheriffs department got that one."

"But you must know something," I said.

He shrugged. 'There's not a lot to know. A man was out walking with his dog when he discovered the wreckage. He peered inside, saw a hand, vomited, then hiked out and called the sheriff. The woman was dead. She appears to have been the only occupant of the vehicle. Looks like she missed the turn, swerved right when she should have gone left and wound up on the canyon floor. It's nearly the

same spot where those two high school kids were killed a couple of years ago."

"Any idea when it happened?"

The clock in the car stopped at eight o'clock. That's either
a.m.
or
p.m.,
but from what they've pieced together, it looks like the accident was Wednesday evening. Apparently she saw her last patient Wednesday around four o'clock. Neighbor doesn't recall seeing the doctor's car in the driveway that evening. She didn't think much of it at the time since the doctor travels quite a bit."

"Nobody reported her missing?"

"Sad, isn't it? She lives alone. Her patients assumed there'd been a change of schedule they'd forgotten. Couple of them called and left a message on her machine, but that was it."

My own messages would have been among them. Three or four calls. And even though it had struck me as odd that Dr. Markley hadn't called back, I'd never thought to check further. I didn't want to think that she might have been alive, desperate for help, while I was growing impatient waiting for her call.

"What's your interest in this?" Benson asked.

I explained Dr. Markley's connection with Lisa Cornell, then hit the highlights of my visit earlier in the week. "When she called me the other day and left a message I assumed it was because she had something more to tell me."

"About Lisa Cornell?"

"It was the only thing that made sense."

He screwed up his face in a look of disapproval. "You're casting around for another killer, right? Some major lead the police overlooked."

"It happens," I said.

"Not very often."

"Your guys were so sure it was Wes, they didn't look for other possibilities."

"It walks like a duck, it quacks like a duck, you're going to assume it
is
a duck. Sure, maybe it's an alligator in disguise, but that's highly unlikely. Shit, Kali, there're always other possibilities. You'd never close a case if you exhausted every avenue of 'might have been.' It would take years."

I flashed him a smug smile. "That's why we have courts and quaint, curious notions like burden of proof."

He laughed. We'd covered this ground before, innumerable times. "You making any headway?"

"It's slow. But this is one time that duck of yours just might turn out to be an alligator."

"I'm sorry, then, that you didn't get to hear what the doctor lady had to say."

"So am I. Were any other cars involved in the accident?"

He shook his head.

"Any witnesses?"

"None that have come forward."

"How about skid marks?"

"I don't know for sure. Like I said, this one's the sheriffs." He paused. "Are you getting at what I think you are?"

"It seems suspicious to me that she died when she did, the way she did. It wouldn't even have been fully dark at eight o'clock."

'Those high school kids I was telling you about--they drove off there in broad daylight."

"But they were probably horsing around, maybe drinking beer or popping pills, right?"

"Smoking marijuana." He conceded the point with a

glum nod. "But take a look through the department's traffic reports. What you'll find is that accidents happen day or night. Some of the time drugs or alcohol are involved, but sometimes they're not. You turn your attention elsewhere for a moment, overcompensate when you realize you're in trouble. Maybe you're going faster than you should be. It's usually just simple carelessness."

"Or maybe your brakes don't work," I added, "or someone nudges you from the rear at just the wrong moment. Will you do me a favor and talk to someone in the sheriffs department? Find out if there was anything suspicious about the accident. Also find out what you can about Dr. Markley's activities that evening. Where she was going, where she'd been." I could do it myself, but not without jumping through a lot of hoops. And that kind of jumping took time.

"You and your favors," Benson grumbled. "What do you ever do for me in return?"

"I feed you on occasion."

"Not often enough."

"As soon as you've got something for me, give a call. Then pick your night and your menu."

A sly smile. 'This is a whole lot of information you want."

I held up my hands. "Okay, I'll throw in an apple pie too."

"A la mode," he said.

As soon as I got to my office, I called Sam. "Did you listen to the news this morning?" I asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"Keep up with what's going on in the world."

"That's what newspapers are for."

"I share your bias, but print media is under a real hand-

leap when it comes to late-breaking news." I told him about Dr. Markley's death. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I can't help wondering if she knew something that had a bearing on the case."

"Why wouldn't she have told you when you went to see her?"

"I don't know. Maybe she'd forgotten about it, or maybe she needed to think about how much of a patient's confidence she could reveal."

"Any ideas what it was?"

That required a different level of wondering. "It could have been about men," I said, and then told him about my trip to the Last Chance the night before. "For an engaged woman, Lisa showed a surprising interest in other men."

Sam snorted. 'That certainly ought to qualify as 'unresolved conflict.' "

"Or maybe it was a specific name. Somebody who'd threatened her or roughed her up a bit. It might have been something Lisa mentioned in passing, something that didn't pertain directly to her therapy."

Sam was silent a moment. "Didn't you tell me that Dr. Markley specialized in childhood abuse?"

"She was heading up the good-touch, bad-touch program at the elementary school. And she was seeing a friend of Myra's who was abused as a child. But I don't know that she necessarily specialized in it."

"That stepfather, what's his name?"

"Ron Swanson."

"Right. You said Lisa's behavior took a turn south soon after he came into the picture?" Sam didn't wait for a reply. "And he admitted to you, as I recall, that he tried to be chummy with her."

I closed my eyes for a moment. "I hope that's not it."

"Why? You got a soft spot for the guy?"

I did, albeit a small one. But that wasn't it. "Do you know how hard it would be to lay that theory out as the main line of our defense? Lisa can't talk. Neither can the therapist she confided in."

'There might be others who knew what went on."

"We'd never find them, not with what little time we've got."

"Too bad Dr. Markley didn't leave a more detailed message."

^With Myra taking it down," I said, "a message wouldn't have been much help." I rolled a pencil between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm thinking that Dr. Markley's death might not have been an accident. Lisa Cornell was her patient, and Lisa was murdered. Now the doctor is dead too."

"Could be coincidence."

"Could be. But if it's not, then Dr. Markley must have known something important."

Sam was quiet for a moment. "If there's a silver lining to all this," he said finally, "it's that Wes couldn't have killed her. Not sitting behind bars the way he is. If the doctor's death is somehow tied in with Lisa's and Amy's, it points away from Wes."

Except that Wes and his buddies were experienced hands when it came to automobile repair--and disrepair. If you were going to mess with a car's brake line or steering mechanism, it helped to know what you were doing.

A conspiracy seemed far-fetched, but I couldn't entirely discount it.

I don't often get hunches, but when I do I'm usually right. This time the weight of reason was with me, as well. If Lisa's and Dr. Markley's deaths were related, then the therapy sessions had to be the key. That didn't narrow things down much in terms of suspects, but it did give me a next step.

I checked my notes to see if there was any mention of lisa Cornell's primary physician. I didn't think there had been, and I was right. Somewhat reluctantly, I called Philip Stockman at work. When the receptionist answered I asked for him by name, as though we were old buddies. The ploy might have worked except that he was out of town on business and wasn't expected back for several days. I asked for Helene next The receptionist put me through and Helene herself answered on the second ring.

I gave her my name, stumbling a bit in the process of reconfiguring my spiel. "Sorry if I sound surprised," I said. "I expected a secretary, maybe a whole string of them."

"We're a family operation," she explained. "Even

though we've grown considerably, Philip insists we answer our own phones whenever possible. If you allow your top executives to insulate themselves from everyday people and problems, there's no way they can know the business."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

Her tone had softened a bit as she went through the recital of company policy; it was obvious she'd covered that territory before. Now, as she remembered who she was talking with, her voice grew distant. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I'm trying to find the name of Lisa's physician."

"Her physician?"

'The one she saw about her headaches. I tried to reach your brother, but he's out of town."

"Why are you interested in Lisa's doctor?"

In light of the half-truths Lisa had told Stockman I crafted my answer carefully. "The doctor who ran Lisa's chronic pain group was killed in an auto accident. I had a few questions I wanted to follow up and I thought her medical doctor might be able to help."

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"Sorry I can't be more specific. I'm not sure what I'm looking to find myself."

"I don't see what any of this has to do with Lisa's death."

"The Friday afternoon call from someone in her group. I think it might be important." I paused, waiting for He-lene to jump in. When she didn't, I continued. "Lisa's regular doctor might be able to tell me more about this group and the kind of help they offered one another. Maybe he's even referred other patients there."