Ada Unraveled (14 page)

Okay, that was a leap, I know. But you had
to have been there. These young people today put so many years into
their educations that their love lives are often delayed.
Perhaps Matt and I could plan a dinner party
… Maybe the man
she’d been searching for all these years was standing right in
front of her, but circumstances, yucky circumstances, prevented her
from seeing him in that light. At least it would get her out of the
silly relationship she was in with the Sly Senior I’d seen on
Applepine Ridge. Guy had to be in his sixties.

The autopsy recaptured my attention.

Jake Stowall’s face and hands had been
partially cleaned—debris and some blackened tissue had been
removed--as if preparation for viewing had begun and then stopped.
Perhaps a relative had intervened, realizing an open casket would
be ill advised—or the mortician came to his senses.

The sight of the body brought back the
unpleasant memories of photographing his corpse on Applepine Ridge.
Except the maggots were mostly gone, also probably cleaned off by
the mortician. The dried leaves and bits of fabric also seemed to
have been washed away. His naked body now before us was shades of
gray dappled with zones of flesh and zones of no flesh and a
blackened bloody rawness in between.

My stomach churned as I fought the urge to
retreat further. The smart-ass detective next to me made no effort
to hide his glee at my discomfort. I didn’t have to have Ruth’s
apparent powers to know what he was thinking.
Serves the stupid
woman right for forcing her way in here.

Dr. Marana finally turned his attention to
the grossly swollen leg extending awkwardly off the left side of
Jake Stowall’s body.

In his meticulous examination of the corpse
Khoja Marana repeatedly noted the extreme damage done by the fires
that had whipped through the Cleveland County region where the body
was found, and how that damage limited the ability to collect
evidence from the surface of the body. But now his monotone
recording of the details of the autopsy took on a new pitch.

“The patient’s left leg appears to have been
damaged in removal from the burial site, or transportation to the
Center.” He then shoved the leg back into place, forcing it to lie
straight, ignoring the fact that the swelling he was fighting was
caused by extreme internal tissue damage--even ignoring the
grotesque tear on the calf.

As an afterthought he added, “The left leg
is lacerated and swollen, possibly an injury the patient suffered
in his attempts to escape the approaching fires. It is my initial
judgment that Jake Stowall died of a heart attack, possibly during
the ordeal of burning alive. I reserve my final decision as to
cause of death until all tests are completed and the results
reviewed. End of notes on Jake Stowall.” He clicked off the
microphone and pushed it up toward the ceiling. He was done.
What?

His eyes fell first on Karen, then slid to
me, as if to say,
Are there any questions?

I glanced at Learner. He was smiling.

Of course, I had a question.

“What about the snakebite Dr. Marana? Do you
think that might have played any part in his demise?”

At this point I was introduced to what I
finally realized was Dr. Marana’s political side. The one Dr. Karen
Bridle had mentioned. He began complaining loudly about the way the
body was handled when it was discovered, reiterating his argument
that the leg had been damaged by mishandling somewhere down the
line. But never once did he look at the swollen, torn leg muscles
so clearly the result of some venomous attack.

I grew more certain as Learner began nodding
agreement. He was cooperating with the cop. He was going to cover
up the real cause of death…the snake bite. The cop was no doubt
doing the bidding of someone else, someone with serious political
clout.

I calmly handed one set of my photographs to
Gerry’s son. And then, while spreading the second set for Marana to
see, occasionally turning them toward the detectives, I offered
Technicolor proof that the damage done to Jake Stowall’s left leg
was clearly visible at the time of discovery, and clearly the
result of snakebite.

“The photographs of the crime scene make it
obvious this wound occurred before his death,” I said.

“Crime scene? How presumptuous Ms. Lyons.
Not all deaths are crimes.”

The voice came from behind me. Pestilence,
then.

I said, “This one is.”

The ME rejoined. “And how, in your expert
opinion, is that true?”

“Well, Dr. Marana, if you’ll turn your
scrutiny to Jake Stowall’s swollen left leg we might actually have
an intelligent discussion about how unnatural his death was.” I
immediately regretted my sarcasm. Another of my infernal failings
is my unconscious mirroring of other people’s emotions--in this
case the not-so-good doctor’s. He glanced briefly at the photos now
in his hands.

“
Ms. Lyons
, I have omitted nothing in
my examination of this man’s body. He has clearly been bitten by a
venomous snake, sometime before his actual death by fire and/or
heart attack, and that fact will be included in my written report.
You see, you didn’t need to bring your herpetologist expert with
you. I’m actually quite capable of noticing when a man has been
bitten by a snake.” He turned and offered his gloved hands to his
assistant, clearly preparing to leave the room.

What? Damn. He was escaping! Behind me I was
aware that Tom Beardsley was shuffling through the photos I’d just
given him.

Dr. Bridle saved the day. “Dr. Marana, I’m
sorry our presence has upset you. We merely thought we could bring
some additional insight, should you need it, by relaying our
initial observations and presenting you these photographs…and other
evidence. And answering any questions you might have about the
condition in which we found the body. But indeed you have conducted
a most thorough examination of Jake Stowall.” Bridle’s smooth talk
halted Marana in his departure, and he turned back. She remained
calm and sweet under the weight of what I took to be his furious
gaze. I envied her ability to do so. I wanted to slap the haute off
his face.

I needed to reassess Dr. Bridle. She knew
full well he was smitten, and she was using it. Well, why not? He
was a fool.

The fool collected himself and returned to
the table.

“Perhaps once you have had a chance to
examine the contents of what I’ve brought you, especially vials
number three and four and the two sealed slides I’ve included, you
will see why we feel there is something sinister about Jake
Stowall’s snakebite wound. You have a completed copy of my lab
report as well, and a copy has been sent to the state Herpetology
labs, just in case we have discovered a new and even more deadly
form of rattlesnake--one with the capacity to kill large mammals in
a single bite and wreak great havoc in the process.”

Now, that was clever sarcasm.

Marana’s perfect complexion shaded red, and
he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again.
His eyes softened a bit. Yes, he was definitely smitten and
definitely still hopeful.

I looked down at the floor to conceal an
irrepressible grin and remembered I was wearing a mask.

“What’s this?” Tom Beardsley asked from
behind me. I turned toward him.

“There, hidden in the leaves away from the
body, that shiny silver object. Isn’t that some sort of hypodermic
needle?”

“Good eyes, sheriff,” I said after peering
more closely. He was holding one of the pictures taken at some
distance from the body itself. I frankly hadn’t noticed the bright
object on my review.

The skinny horseman snarled, “I’ll need a
copy of those pictures. Why don’t I take them and we’ll get them
back to you after we’ve reproduced them.”

I said, “No need, Detective Mosby. I
contacted the Pinto Springs PD recently and let them know pictures
and a transcript of my observations were on the way. I’m sure
you’ll find our office has already forwarded them to your agency at
their request.”

Beardsley quickly stashed his set and moved
away.

Mosby’s anger was palpable as he spat, “Why
don’t you send your men back to the ‘scene of the crime’ Detective
Beardsley? Do the work the way you should have done it originally,
three weeks ago. I’m sure you’ll find nothing has been disturbed in
that brief time of neglect.” But of course it hadn’t been
Beardsley’s investigation originally and Mosby knew that.

The Cleveland County junior detective was
unfazed, responding pleasantly, “Good idea, Detective. We’ll do
that right away.” I smiled under my mask. Maybe he did have a
future with the sheriff’s department.

Dr. Marana turned and flew out of Exam Room
#3. I made eye contact with Dr. Bridle for the first time since the
procedure had begun. She winked and smiled.

At least the results of the exam were “open
and ongoing.” A small victory. Gerry must have heard it all,
because she was beaming as she joined us in our departure. Her
brother had just been handed the reins. We chatted our way back up
to the surface and went our separate ways.

Tuesday, October 7

Matt hollered to me from somewhere in the
house, “Hey, you keeping your log up to date on all these trips and
luncheons?”

He was right. I needed to do some serious
paperwork. At least I’d been keeping thorough notes of activities
and times.

A thought popped into my mind. I needed to
start a timeline of what I knew. Something I could carry with me. I
began searching for the spare pocket-calendar that I’d stashed
away. Found it. Began noting what I knew.

Using color coding and the Dewey Decimal
System, of course. A PI’s version.

But Matt was talking about my financial
records.

“Tonight.” I called back, hoping to appease.
I’d work on that side of the business another time.

“I need your help on this Douglas v. Douglas
case. Are you almost done with your quilt project?”

The neighbors would begin to complain, not
to mention know more of our business than they should, and somehow
I knew it would be me who would get up and join him even though I
was in our office. A guy thing.

I headed down the hall toward the kitchen
where I thought Matt was finishing cleanup after another feast.
Constant Wisdom was by my side. He was hoping for more scraps from
dinner. “We’ve done that, Pal. Scraps are gone,” I muttered to him
as we walked side by side. He was not deterred. Hope springs
eternal. Maybe we should have named him Hope. But that was a girl’s
name.

“What?” Matt hollered again, and I realized
he was located behind me. I did an about face and headed back down
the hall toward the spare bedroom to the sound of Wisdom’s moan.
What was Matt doing in there?

“You know I think there’s something strange
about this genealogy. Come take a look at this.”

He’d pinned it to the wall next to the bed.
Good guy. I took my place next to him, ignoring the magnificent
quilt that called like a siren from a sea of colors for me to look
at it.
Just one little look, it won’t take long…to get lost for
a day or a week or the rest of your life in my designs and colors
and intricate stitching.

“You okay?” He was staring down at me,
frowning.

“Of course. What did you want me to
see?”

“Some serious inbreeding in this family
tree. Lots of cousins marrying cousins.” The phone rang in our
office. “Check it out,” he tossed back at me as he left to catch
the call.

“Inbreeding?” I muttered to Wisdom. “What’s
he mean?”

Matt had pinned the genealogy at eye level
on the west facing wall—his eye level. So I was craning my neck. It
spread eight landscape sheets across—about seven feet--but only two
sheets high. It covered about ten generations of Stowalls
vertically, but numerous families horizontally. I scanned the names
on the huge chart.

I found Geraldine Patrone on this genealogy.
Her maiden name, Beardsley, was tied somehow with the Stowalls. “I
wonder if this means my one hope for impartiality at the morning’s
postmortem had a conflict of interest”, I wondered aloud.

I had no idea if Matt was hearing me, but it
helped to verbalize my thoughts. I often used Wisdom as a sounding
board because the results were about the same as with Matt.

“That was lawyer Henson. He wants us to
serve papers on some guy in Del Mar. Another deadbeat father. Can
you handle that one? I’ve got the continuation of the Fletcher
court case tomorrow a.m.”

I’d jumped. He loved sneaking up on me when
I was deep in thought. He assumed a position behind me and I smiled
and leaned back. It helped with my neck.

We worked with several area lawyers, Henson
was one of them.

“I guess I can.” I really didn’t like
serving people. It could be dangerous. “I think I need to make a
duplicate of this so I can mark it up with highlighters. Did you
hear that Gerry Patrone is a member of this Stowall family.
Amazing.”

“I already copied it, just haven’t taped it
together. The sheets are in your inbox. Did you notice the number
of times your gal Ada is listed on this?”

“Where...”

“Third generation up. Here, and here, and
here.” He pointed to her name with a purple highlighter. I took it
from him and underlined the three entries.

“She married a Mark Stowall. Then the next
year, Mark’s brother, Luke. Two of Victoria’s sons. Wow. Curiouser
and curiouser,” I muttered.

“Yeah. Mark dies December 1965, then his
brother Luke marries sister-in-law Ada. January 1966. A month
later. Sound suspicious? Remind you of Hamlet? Here, have fun
coloring. I have to pay some bills. There goes the phone again,
probably for you.”

Hamlet? He shoved a fist full of
highlighters at me and disappeared again. I dusted off my knowledge
of Shakespeare. Oh yes, Hamlet’s father and uncle…and his mother.
Queen Gertrude, the “adulterate beast”.