Ada Unraveled (26 page)

I slipped through the room and flashed my
way to a bathroom way at the back. There I got close-ups of
everything, including several bottles of pills in a rusted out
medicine cabinet.

The basement radiated what the rest of the
house oozed—sadness and torment. I felt I was standing at the
nuclear heart of this corrosive house.

No art adorned the walls, no personal items
of any kind, just the barest of comforts and a fool television. A
modern day dungeon meant to contain and control.

But I had no time to contemplate what sort
of mind would rise up out of this misery. The lights came back on,
and a few seconds later a pair of bitingly angry hands forced me
backwards toward the stairs and then spun me around.

The wonderful thing about today’s cameras is
how small they are. It’s absolutely amazing where you can hide them
when you need to. And Mosby knew he’d been beaten when he could see
no evidence of a camera in my hands or hanging around my neck. He
knew better than to search me.
Too many witnesses.
Or so I
thought he was reasoning.

Instead, he yelled and railed at my
“unlawful resistance” as he chased me back up the stairs to the
kitchen.

“Get them off the premises! Get them out of
here! They’ve broken any agreement.”

Both Mosby and Learner were yelling. I
briefly wondered why they reminded me of Gerry and Hannah.

Our coats were shoved into our hands and we
were hustled through the kitchen toward the back door, and shoved
outside into the miserable rain, and now I was clutching at my
belly to keep the camera from getting wet. I heard a swoop sound
and the rain stopped. Gerry’s giant umbrella to the rescue.

Before us, in the backyard and beyond toward
the cemetery, were a dozen soaked and dispirited deputies working
their shovels.

As I stepped down off the stoop, the years
of bloody abuse that Ada and Eddie had suffered overwhelmed me.
Whoever was running this sideshow was now trying to cover up the
obviously criminal living conditions of Eddie. I was determined
they wouldn’t get away with it.

It was past my lunchtime so I was plotting
which one of the three of us would make a run to a fast food
restaurant to get the vitals.

Even sitting at the curb out front of the
house, we could hear the chopping sounds coming from the old
graveyard way out back.

Gerry, who was sitting next to me, in the
front, said the obvious, “They’re digging.”

“In the graveyard. You think?”

I have no idea why sometimes I pop out with
sarcasm. Ninety-five percent of the time when others around me do
this it flies ninety-five feet over my head. And I hate that it
does.

Then I added, “Looking for planted
women?”

Hannah groused, “Did you hear that
chauvinist making sexist jokes about the missing women, suggesting
they were
‘probably in Vegas replenishing their funds--working
the streets.’
Not nice.” She was angry. She closed her
window.

Gerry said, “Are you worried?”

I said, “About what?”

“About the blowback from this. You know,
when the departments involved learn about our activities
upstairs?”

“And down,” Hannah said. I looked back at
her. She was cradling her cell phone in her lap, her long brown
hair lying flat on her head. She’d been misted.

Gerry said, “Maybe you should warn Matt
before he gets the call.”

Gerry’s hair still looked great. All
bobble-headed curls.

“Can’t. He’s in court again, testifying for
another crazed divorcee who wants a revisit on her ex’s visitation
rights with their two younger children. She’s trying to get him
nailed on child neglect.”

I wondered if Gerry’s hairspray was
waterproofing.

Hannah said, “No! Who is Matt
representing?”

“Well, technically neither. We just
investigate. But we were hired by the husband’s lawyer. And no, we
haven’t found anything incriminating.”

Hannah’s body relaxed and she sat back,
muttering, “Nothing worse than a child abuser.” She gazed out
toward the cemetery. “Do you think we can be arrested?”

“No, Hannah. We’re fine. Both departments
will receive full copies of the pictures I’ve taken. It was part of
the deal I worked out.”

Hannah was clearly stressed by what we’d
found. Perfectly understandable.

I was thinking Hannah probably couldn’t use
hairspray. Long hair doesn’t act right when it’s sprayed.

I used to have long hair. Long blond hair.
Back in those sinful hippy days. But I’d never been a sinful hippy.
No guts.

I pulled my camera out of my slacks,
glancing down at it. Gerry giggled. Probably had no idea where I’d
hid it.

Hannah’s phone rang. She placed a hand over
her mouth and mumbled into it for a few seconds while Gerry and I
pretended we weren’t eavesdropping. The windows were fogging up so
I turned the defroster on high. Finally Hannah closed her
phone.

Probably her mother, upset about where I’d
put my camera.

I looked at her in the rear view mirror, as
she closed her phone. She turned to stare out the fogged up window
again, saying softly, “I asked my mom about how Ada’s sister died,
like you asked me to.”

Gerry said, “When?”

“Couple of days ago. Right after lunch.”

“Who was that calling you,” I said. Was she
deliberately speaking in riddles?

“Pete. He wanted me to know the dog has
thrown up in his den again.”

I said, “And he wants you to come right home
and clean it up. I know this because I’m psychic.” I paused, and
then said less sarcastically, “Kidding. I’m sure that’s not what he
said. That was just a bit of sexist humor on my part.”

Hannah smiled gently. “Our old girl’s
fifteen and a half. She’s been sick a lot lately. We may have to
put her down soon.” She glanced out the window again.

“Wow, fifteen and a half.” Gerry was
struggling out of her coat. I turned the heater down. “We had to
put one of our labs to sleep this summer. It’s awful…not the
procedure…just the loss. Well, actually both.”

We fell silent, now all of us staring
blindly out at the bleak afternoon, thinking about our lost pet
friends. And my impending loss. Finally I returned to Hazel.

“So what did your mom say about how Hazel
died?”

“Just that she drowned while the family was
out boating on Lake Henshaw with their drinking buddies. An
accident.”

Gerry said, “I called Elixchel about this
yesterday. She said one of the other boaters tried to revive Hazel,
but it was no use. She said Gordon grew angry, even combative, over
the other boater’s interference.”

Startled, both Hannah and I stared at her
expectantly.

I said, “Elixchel knows about the accident?”
I needed to call her.

Gerry said, “Gordon didn’t actually report
that Hazel had gone overboard for more than fifteen minutes.” She
fussed with her perfect hair, looking in the vanity mirror. “They
were all drinking so heavily…but Elixchel says her family thought
there was something suspicious about the whole thing.”

I said, “I didn’t think they allowed sizable
boats on that lake.”

“Elixchel’s family didn’t have a sizable
boat, just a small sailboat. Anyway, you’re right. The county
doesn’t permit large vessels on that lake. Gordon and Jolene
Stowall kept their big boat in San Diego harbor. Apparently they
even lived on it for a while, back when you could just drop anchor
wherever you wanted. There were whole communities of boaters living
along the shallow shorelines of San Diego Harbor up until fairly
recently—maybe twenty years ago.”

I said, “You got all of this from
Elixchel?”

She looked at me, thoughtfully.

“No. From various sources. Anyway, the day
Hazel died—that would have been in the fifties--they were at a
birthday picnic for Ada up on the lake, nearer to the family so all
the relatives could attend. You know.

“Gordon took Hazel out on the lake in a
rental sailboat. Eliz…Elixchel—I just can’t get used to that new
name of hers. She says her grandparents were invited along and came
back too scared to talk about it. This was according to Elixchel’s
mom, who told her some of this stuff before she died.”

The conversation lapsed again. And we
probably would have gone our separate ways without lunch, except
Detective Tom Beardsley emerged from the gloom surrounding my car
to rap on the window by his sister.

Gerry let the window down a bit, and we
listened.

“Just wanted to catch you guys up. First,
one of the things we were searching for wasn’t there.” He brushed
the rain off the brim of his hat.

“Hop in, Tom,” Gerry said.

“Nah. I’m soaked through anyway.

“What were you looking for?” I prompted.

“The blow dart equipment, the blow gun.
Wasn’t here. Nothing was, in fact, to connect Luke to Jake’s
death.”

“So they think there’s a connection?” I
asked.

“Not that they can prove.” He stopped again,
brushed some more rain off his arms. I was beginning to get cold
with the window open, so I turned the heat back up.

“What happened over the Luminol?” I
asked.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about that. Actually,
I think some of the folks are using me--to channel information to
you.” He stopped again, looking around him at the house. We all
waited. Finally, he added with a shrug, “There are two distinct
groups on this thing in the cop shop. One wants Matt and Rachel to
help circumvent the stone wall the other group—mostly Stowalls—has
built around Luke and Ada’s lives. They figure that outside
investigators will be immune to the political pressures that have
so warped the department. The ones that want your help, they got a
forensic investigator to mix up a batch of Luminol and gave it to
me.” He slapped his hand down on the roof and stretched his long
body upright. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He fumbled for a minute in a
plastic bag he’d carried with him. “Here’s your shoe Rachel. The
boys figured you might want it back.”

“Tom! That’s disgusting. You didn’t even
clean it off?” Gerry said. “She doesn’t want that thing in
here.”

“Oh, okay. In that case I’ll just toss it.
I’m going out for lunch. You guys want anything?” He was wearing a
crooked grin.

Gerry and Hannah nodded, yes. He started to
leave.

“Hey!” I cried.

He turned back.

“Before you walk off, what did they find in
the stink hole?”

“Nothing yet. They just got permission to
exhume a possible corpse from a judge. It’s a graveyard, you
know.”

I persisted. “But my shoe and I weren’t
anywhere near the graveyard.”

“Oh, you mean the hole by the shed?”

“Yes. The stink hole.”

“Wasn’t anything there. Not even the shoe.
We found your shoe just this side of the cemetery.” His look
sharpened.

I wondered who could have moved my shoe and
what else might have been removed from that hole. I wondered if Tom
was thinking the same thing. Gerry’s face showed a mixture of alarm
and curiosity. Guess we were on the same page.

Tom grinned, and asked, “So, do you want me
to get you lunch too?”

In fifteen minutes we were chowing down on
burgers and fries like there was no tomorrow.

We finished. I began glancing at my watch.
Wondering what to do next.

“He wants us to stay,” Gerry said. “He
thinks there’s more to come.”

I agreed with her assessment, but digging
holes all over the place could take time. Time I could use cleaning
up my desk.

Hannah said, “Here, read this.”

She reached over from the back seat and let
a little brown book slide down the front of me into my lap.

“
Another diary? Ada’s?
Where did you
get it?”

“In the hullabaloo down in the basement I
picked it up off his night stand. It was spontaneous.”

Uh-oh.
Not good.

“I never heard that and I’m not holding this
right now. Tom will receive this in the mail shortly.” I eyed both
of them.

“Evidence is never removed from a crime
scene, ladies.” I was quite serious. I didn’t want them getting
into trouble. “Photographs, pictures we take ourselves, and our
observations, that’s it. All physical evidence remains where it
is.” I was speaking as gently as I could, but this was
important.

Hannah turned to look out the window.

“Don’t worry about it Hannah. I’ll get it
back where it belongs.”

I stowed the book in a plastic baggie and
put it in my backpack, secretly thinking I’d probably have stolen
it myself if I’d seen it.

Then I turned my camera on. It was time to
see what I had captured in the basement. My new assistants leaned
forward eagerly. We began reviewing shot after shot of a filthy,
cramped cage you wouldn’t keep your dog in.

Gerry said, “How long was he down
there?”

We were whispering again. Afraid the Devil
would hear us.

Hannah said, “My mom told me he supposedly
died when he was sixteen. She said she remembers there was a broken
hearted girlfriend. She can’t remember the girl’s name.”

Gerry said, “So that must have been when
they locked him up. When he was sixteen. I wonder how old he is
now. You may have noticed, Rachel, he’s not listed on the version
of the genealogy I gave you. It’s a copy of the one my parents had.
There wasn’t any date on it, but I’m thinking the document must be
pretty old not to have included Eddie.” Gerry said.

I nodded. I had noticed that Eddie wasn’t
named. And now her explanation made sense of the omission.

I said, “Does your mom remember when she
first heard of Eddie’s death? Maybe something that happened around
the same time?”

Hannah said, “Only that it was back before
her favorite president.”

I stopped scrolling through the hastily
taken shots of the basement prison, waiting for the punch line.