Ada Unraveled (30 page)

I didn’t want to believe anything that Mosby
said, but I had to admit that this fit with the details I already
had on that day.

“And, you shouldn’t have violated a police
line, Ms. Lyons.”

I heard Matt suck in air.

I knew Mosby was talking about the second
bedroom upstairs, but I said, “There wasn’t any police tape over
the basement stairs.”

We’d been very careful not to move the tape
over the door that led to the quilted shrine. I thought he was just
guessing.

“That’s another thing you shouldn’t have
done, Ms. Lyons. You could end up with a bad rep. You could end up
being thought of as a loose cannon.”

My blood chilled.

Matt stood and stretched, and said, “Yeah, I
think we’ve seen enough of this show.”

I could have kissed him. I opened the door
and stepped into the narrow stairway.

“Before you leave, Lyons, tell your wife I
need a copy of your pictures and notes from yesterday.” Mosby
said.

I pretended I didn’t hear him and let the
upper door of the stairway close behind me.

Matt joined me moments later with a note of
caution.

“We don’t need these guys as our enemies,
honey. Send him your report. Make it brief—one paragraph will
do.”

I smiled. The report was two and a half
concise pages.

The phone rang. But the line was dead by the
time I answered. I crawled back into bed, bringing my cell phone
with me.

Another phone rang. The house phone. I
listened. It went to message. No one.

A third phone rang; this one in the living
room, probably Matt’s cell. I crawled out of bed again and ran to
intercept it.

Three calls: all dead ends. The number was
the same. Matt was snoring so I jotted the number down again and
moved my pillow to the back bedroom, carrying two of the phones.
I’d unplugged the landline.

I jumped a mile when my cell rang a second
time. Not thinking, I flipped it open and fiercely whispered
something unfriendly.

It was Gerry. She’d called to say she
couldn’t sleep for worrying about Eddie, she was certain he was the
victim in this whole mess.

“Tom told me that nothing had been uncovered
that would point to him being a child molester, as the Depo Provera
might suggest. Even though they’re looking for him.”

The authorities were looking for him?
Uh-oh.

I assured her that Eddie already had my
heart. She hung up. I was thinking chamomile tea, but I was too
tired to move.

So I lay there awake, worrying, asking God
to send me another reason why a boy was kept loaded with female
hormones and locked in a basement prison.

After an hour I gave up on sleep and opened
Ada’s second diary. She wrote this one when she was fourteen.

“
Dear Hazel,

I’m sorry I missed writing to you for a few
days, but things have been bad again. We went boating this weekend,
down at the harbor. We tied up next to the Kellys and Nelsons, as
usual. You know how they get. It all starts out well enough at
first, but after dark the drinking gets serious.

I met a new guy. Kent and Sandra brought
along a friend, another Stowall from up in the mountains near where
we live. His name is Mark, and I think he’s the one I’ve been
waiting for. After lunch the four of us went ashore in Kent’s
dingy. We walked along the coast for a while and he held my hand.
It was warm and somehow reassuring. His hand felt as if I’d been
waiting to hold it all my life.

By the time we went back to the boats the
adults had started in already. Jolene was cooking us dinner in the
small galley but she kept falling against the counters and spilling
stuff, so Gordon ordered me to finish the meal. He dragged her
angrily up the stairs and forced her to sit on the bench at the
stern.”

I stopped reading. I skimmed down looking
for the violence I knew would be there. It went on for three pages
and at the end of it Gordon—she now seemed to be calling her
parents by their first names—buried an oar in Jolene’s head,
supposedly while trying to rescue her after she’d fallen overboard.
I couldn’t stand it, so I shut the little volume and turned off the
light. It was a long while before I slept. And a short while before
I was awoken again.

Sunday, October 12

The phone rang. I pondered whether it was
one of the three Bee Women I’d called earlier or our new mystery
caller.

Matt had tried returning the call, with no
response. He said he would research the number then left on another
errand. I stood looking down at the phone, almost frightened.

But it was Matt.

His warm voice said, “Sorry I left so
abruptly. I had a follow-up on the Henry case. Are you in the
office?”

“Yes.”

“I left my notes on this guy next to my
computer. Could you check and see what the house number is? I’m
driving around in circles down here getting nowhere by checking
mail boxes.” He was in La Jolla again. I gave him the number.

I said, “Will you be heading back after you
serve him?”

“No. but you’ll be safe. I think I’ll check
out some details on the Miller investigation while I’m down near
the cop shop. Their lab here has the best records on priors. What
are you up to today?”

The Miller case was a white collar
investigation of a financial fraud on the order of a Ponzi scheme,
only San Diego-sized. Miller had given himself away by buying an
expensive new car.
Two hundred K expensive.

I said, “Nothing much, just making some
phone calls. So how good does the new Audi RS4 Cabriolet look?”

“I’m getting one next week.” He chuckled,
reminding me of a more normal Matt.

I sighed. Then his comment hit me. What did
he mean
, you’ll be safe?

Matt said, “That unidentified caller turned
out to be from a public phone at the airport. Probably just a wrong
number.”

“Was it the same as the ones last
night?”

His silence screamed
which calls last
night?
I looked around his desk and spotted the note I’d left
for him, shoved under some other papers. I thought how unusual it
was for him to be so disorganized. And remembered that was my job.
Keeping him organized.

I told him about the series of phone calls
last night. That they’d come in on all three of our phones. Gave
him the number.

Matt said, “It’s a different number.” Then
he slipped into some void, stayed there for several moments.

I said, “Will I be able to reach you later
today, if I need to?” As soon as I asked him I knew I shouldn’t
have. I could almost feel his brainwaves change through the phone.
Or maybe I heard his breathing change.

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” Too quick.

“I thought you said you were through with
that Stowall mess.”

“No, I didn’t. I said, I
wished
I was
through with it. Anyway, I am, for now.”

“Rachel.”

“Matt.”

His turn to sigh.

He finished with, “Stay out of trouble.”

He was being a Marine, worrying about my
security. It was lovely, until it got annoying.

I sat staring at the phone willing callbacks
for the next half hour while playing bridge on my computer. Finally
I remembered how to make someone call. Take a shower.

Sure enough, ten minutes later while I was
all lathered up and enjoying the decadent western pleasure of a
daily hot rinse, the phone chirped. Hair full of soap, I wrapped
myself in an oversized, cotton towel and raced for the office.

Bingo! It was Andrea. We spent several
moments trading brief but useless remarks, as I wiped some tickling
soap off my forehead. I cut to the chase.

“Andrea, I need one of you folks from the
bee to tell me what this snake-thing is with the Stowalls.”

“They had a small business milking them.
Jake supplied the local medical clinics with rattlesnake venom for
a hefty fee. He was really just a handyman constantly looking for
ways to make money. With seven kids you can see how it would
be.”

Coaxing, I said, “That’s a dangerous job.
Where did he keep them?”

“Out back of their house, there’s a little
shed. Could still be some squirming around out there now, if you
want to go take a little look-see. Although they haven’t sold the
venom for ages, so they’d probably be loose. They use something
called CroFab as antivenom, now.”

“Right.” I knew this, of course. I ventured
on.

“Okay, but can you tell me…I mean, can you
describe Luke? What he looked like? Did he favor his mother or his
father?”

“Weird. Your questions get weirder and
weirder. You guys were just at his autopsy.”

I said, “Yes. But people don’t look the same
after death. And what I want to know is who he resembled when he
was younger and healthier.”

He was Jake’s knock-off. At least, he was
the last time I saw him. He looked almost as old as Jake was, too.
Wasted.”

Like the guy at the Mexican restaurant.

My good luck with her answers encouraged me,
a bit too much.

“What about Eddie. Does he favor Luke?”

Andrea said, “What? Oh, no. He looks like
Ada, slightly African, a little Chinese.”

I wasn’t getting what I needed. I wanted to
hear about which of the oldest Stowall boys Eddie favored.

I said, “I noticed at Victoria’s, how
different Mark and Luke looked. Mark was so handsome.”

I just put the thought out there, hoping
she’d connect my questions and tell me if Eddie looked more like
Luke or more like Mark.

Andrea said, “I don’t know.”

I tried another approach. “Andrea, I need to
know more about Eddie’s life. The last twenty years. What
happened?”

Andrea said, “I don’t know.”

She was pleading the fifth. I tried lobbing
a bomb.

“Was Eddie locked up in the basement by his
parents because of his sexual…tendencies?” Okay, not an ordinary
bomb. More like a nuclear bomb.

“WHAT!” She didn’t sound pleased. She
started dropping alphabet bombs.

I said, “Why else fill him with
Depo-Provera?” I offered innocently, between her swear words.

“Because they didn’t want him chasing women!
How dull are you?”

“This isn’t personal, Andrea. I need to
understand what’s happening here. He’s on the loose and the cops
have been looking for him. Think, Andrea,” I said gently.

It really isn’t easy to remain calm when
someone else is raving at you.

“He isn’t on the
loose
, he’s right
where he should be.”

“Where?”

“None of your
effing
, backbiting
business! He’s run away again…maybe to the same place his mother
took him years ago. You do know that the sixth square is Ada and
Eddie on an island because she fled Luke, don’t you? And you know
why, right?”

I didn’t answer her. Hoping she’d elaborate.
But all I heard was heavy breathing.

Finally, I said, “I need your help to solve
the mystery…”

“
How much of it have you solved?”

I recounted what we were sure of. Then I
added a little of what we were almost sure of, so I could sound
more productive…or so she could tell me I had something wrong.

“That’s it? That’s all you know? Are you
telling me you haven’t solved the middle three squares yet? Like
square four is Jake and Victoria with their freaking snakes? Like
square five holds their children, and square six is Ada and her son
Eddie. What kind of effing researcher are you?”

Fighting my rising reaction, I said, “But
there are only four children in square five. And why…” are their
genitals crossed out, I finished to myself. She was off
stream-swearing again, dropping “A” bombs, “B” bombs, and a couple
more “F” bombs.

“Eddie is a victim. They put him in that
basement prison when he was barely sixteen! Not because of child
molestation, but because he had a girlfriend, who, by the way was
almost fifteen. So whoever’s floating this crap about pedophilia is
a liar! And you better stay away from him. He’s the victim--of the
freaky Stowall legacy. Not the bad guy. The sooner you get
that…”

“What legacy? Do you mean the infighting?”
Controlled calm, I reminded myself. But since when is fourteen the
legal age for kids to have sex?

Of course, they might not have been having
sex. That had been twenty years ago. Not everyone fell into bed
with everyone else at the drop of a hat in that decade.

“Not infighting, dumb-o, inbreeding! Do your
homework. Visit the Carlsbad library and read up. Get John
Stowall’s book on the family, like Gerry told you to. Or at the
very least, ask old Ruth. She’s our local, loco historian.”

Inbreeding? Was Eddie dating a first
cousin?

One more “F” bomb and she was gone.

Lovely. My ears were burning and ringing. I
wanted to call her right back and remind her that the people with
the knowledge of what was happening--the youngest ones who’d
‘hired’ me--were the ones stonewalling, not the old people.

Breathing, breathing…slowing down. Okay, I
was back. Calm. Almost normal.

I began to wonder how strained our
relationship would be next month when we met for the bee. Victoria
certainly didn’t put up with her talking like that. But, I needed
to concentrate on what she’d said. I also needed to wash the soap
off my hair before it crusted.

The phone stopped me in my tracks.
Good
grief!

I returned to the office, feeling a little
shy about taking anymore of Andrea’s verbal abuse. Or maybe it was
the mystery caller. Then again it might be Matt. I leaned forward
to read the ID on the phone. It was a number I didn’t recognize. A
new one.

The phone continued to chirp as I nervously
pondered what to do and the call eventually went to our message
machine. But whoever this was he/she wasn’t leaving a message
behind. I wrote down the number for Matt on a much bigger piece of
paper and taped it to the front of his monitor. He’d be
thrilled.