A few minutes later we were standing inside a long room, about fifteen by thirty feet, filled with assorted shelving and filing cabinets. We were alone. Gloria turned to stare at us, arms across her bosom as if we were naughty students she was considering whether to paddle. I was voting not.
Finally she spoke, her eyes sliding across us angrily, settling on each of us at odd times, leaving me with a head full of questions I would only much later ponder and might never find answers for.
Again, her accent bedeviled me so I found myself leaning toward her in an effort to better hear--like I did when Matt was watching one of those European soccer games he loved, announced by some Scotsman gleefully pretending to speak English when actually it was Latin with only an occasional English word thrown in. I concentrated hard and picked up most of what she said.
“Dees recarts are protectit by privacy lahs, but I’m openink dem to you for tree reasons: vun, you ahr relatet to deh victim.” I turned to look first at Gerry then at Hannah.
“Two, you ahr vorking under deh Caleevornia Public Eenwestigator’s laws.” Now they turned to stare at me. “Veech allows you leemitet access; und tree, Gerry, yur broder Tom called me dis mornink and ordered me tuh open dees medical records for all off you to see or else.
“Not det I tink he has even deh slightest power to do anytink to me…”
I was betting with her.
“…but, if dere’s hell to pay for me doink dis, dis vill be my defenses. Make no mistake about it, I am not heppy aboud beink forced to do dis. Deh time to heff acted in Ada’s behaff is done. This so-call’t inwestigation bordurs on notink more den woyeurism es far es I’m concerned.”
I pulled my neck back. Way back.
Gloria continued to glare at us, as if she expected her preamble would dissuade us from proceeding. I was completely taken aback by this statement, having been led to believe that Gloria was supportive of our attempts at discovery.
Clearly Gloria felt her job was in jeopardy, so I tried to explain our actions in a better light than she was seeing them.
“Gloria, I understand and respect that your professional instincts are to protect your patients, even after they are no longer your patients. And that you feel you are speaking as Ada’s advocate now. But we have equally strong feelings that we are doing the same, and even more. Yes, Gloria, she’s beyond any help we can offer her. But our actions on behalf of Ada at this time may help defend her child.” I watched as Gloria’s face reflected surprise.
It was deja vu ala Gerry. Her face read “What child?”
I continued. “We believe that Ada may have died as the result of a criminal act. We believe that like all people who are forced into a position of weakness through no fault of their own, Ada was unable to defend herself.” I suddenly felt like I was parodying the Catholic Nicene Creed, but couldn’t help myself. “We believe that she felt she had no way out of her life as a victim of abuse. So we are not here as voyeurs, I assure you. There is no one here who takes any kind of pleasure in seeing what I expect you are about to show us. We’re here as advocates for Ada’s son, Edward.”
I had no idea what she was about to show us or I would have run from the room.
“Who?” Her eyes slid from mine to Gerry’s then to Hannah’s. “Dere is no son. Vell, dere vas, but he vas berried.…”
Abigail had gone to bed before the end of the bee…maybe she didn’t know about Eddie, so hadn’t told her mother about Andrea’s outburst at the bee revealing that Eddie had arrived at the double funeral for Ada and Jake, drenched and muddy and carefully carrying his mom’s quilt in a black garbage bag.
I needed the date of this funeral, for my pocket calendar. But this wasn’t the time.
Hannah said, “No, he wasn’t, Gloria. It seems we’ve all been duped. Eddie is alive, although not healthy. My mom finally told me this morning. I could just choke her for not telling me sooner, but she thinks she’s protecting me, us, like you are. Well you aren’t. You aren’t protecting anyone by keeping these fool secrets. Anyway, his aunts are helping care for him, but her husband Luke is at large, and if he has killed Ada there is a real chance he’s a danger to Eddie as well.”
Gloria’s eyes seemed to have doubled in size. I felt my own expand. This was the first time I’d been given truly concrete information about Ada’s husband and son. I promised myself to stay on task and grill Hannah and Gerry later.
Gloria managed, “I did not know.” She looked from one to the other of us, her eyes pleading. “I vant you to know, dat I did my part to try to stop the beatings Ada suffered. But she vasn’t going to leave Luke. She never vanted to leave Luke. She couldn’t leave him. So…each time…I did vat I could to patch her up. And, if Eddie is not healthy vy is not he coming in to see us…?” Her voice trailed off at the last, an irrelevant afterthought.
“He’s being cared for. His aunts are looking in on him.” Hannah said.
Seconds ticked by. Realizing she wasn’t going to get more from Geraldine Patrone or any of the rest of us, and that we wouldn’t be deterred, Gloria slowly unfolded her arms and turned to the filing case directly behind her. Loudly sighing, she opened a drawer and began pulling folders out, first one, then another, and finally a third, all full to overflowing. My heart thumped louder.
There were photographs tucked in among the sheets of paper.
I fought a rising fear. For the next hour we flipped through vivid pictures of torture damage, and written reports done in a simple language. The simplicity of the reports, the frankness, the sometimes offhanded listing of the damage done to the woman’s body was like reading from a repairman’s journal of needed home repairs, which made it seem even more awful. But in the end, the folders full of destruction and agony read like the books and chapters of the Antichrist’s Bible. Passages of which I knew would stick in my brain like thorns forever.
It took an hour to go through them all and Gloria never left our side, answering our questions and pointing out important information along the way. Clearly Ada Stowall’s husband was evil. Though the reports never named him, they alluded repeatedly to “suspicious” falls and “blunt object trauma of unknown source”. All three of us used our phone cameras to copy some of the pages we thought might be useful in an investigation.
One thing became apparent as the visit progressed: nurse Gloria had seen to it that detailed written descriptions were frequently accompanied by photographic evidence—a necessity for any criminal action that might evolve from the nightmarish life of Ada Stowall. Indeed she had tried to protect the woman, but the woman had been unable to protect herself.
Chapter 18: Tea Garden
Hannah suggested the three of us meet at the Japanese Tea House in Pinto Springs Park to talk over what we’d learned. The Tea House was a fine idea, because for the first time in many days the famous California sunshine was showing its face. After a short drive in our separate cars we regrouped and found a small table off to the side of the outside patio seating. The sun felt wonderful after our dark exploratory in the hospital archives.
I began the conversation in my usual fashion, breaking through the gray funk the recent hours had produced.
“Do either of you get why no criminal charges were ever filed in Ada’s case?”
“The Stowalls, they’re ubiquitous,” Hannah said mysteriously. “Have you ever searched for them on the net?” She was looking at Gerry, not questioning my research skills.
“Yes, Tom says they’re all through the CCSD and PSPD,” Gerry said.
Hannah said, “They’re all through the state of California government, too. My mother told me she thinks Senator Barbara Miller is related to us through the Inyo County Stowalls. I was thinking of giving her a call to see if I can’t get our neighborhood zoning laws changed so we can keep more than two large domesticated animals per half acre.”
Surprised, Gerry said, “How many do you have now?”
“We have eight chickens and two goats for fresh eggs and milk. But Peter thinks
we should start raising Llamas too. For their wool.”
“But how do you take vacations? It’s not like you can take your chickens and goats to the kennel.”
Hannah said, “We don’t. Pete and I don’t need vacations. Our life is great and except for Peter’s part time position at the newspaper, completely stress-free. Once the children are grown and on their own we’ll think about travel.”
“Oh,” Gerry sighed. “I live for my vacations.”
“Stress-free,” I grumbled, thinking urban farm-talk was getting me nowhere. They looked at me. I’d sat back, intending to eavesdrop, functioning in the receive mode. But the talk had wandered off course. I wanted to hear more about this Stowall clan.
I said, “What I need are dates. Times and places. For instance, when was Jake and Ada’s funeral? The one where Eddie delivered his mother’s quilt?”
Gerry said, “I wondered about this myself, after the bee. I asked my mom. She’s blurry now, you know. My mom’s…kind of slipping. But she was positive they were buried on September 26th, because, that was her parent’s anniversary.”
I hauled out my calendar book. That was a Friday. I’d found Jake’s body on Applepine Ridge on the 22nd, the Monday before. I made a note.
I said, “So, where was Jake’s body held, for the extra days? Did the morgue have him from the 22nd to the 26th?”
Gerry said, “Probably. Tom said he was pretty certain the county did an autopsy. A first autopsy. Trying to determine the cause of death.”
“Yes. But they missed the snakebite damage on his leg,” I muttered.
Hannah said, “So, the sheriffs were in charge of this case.” I wondered why this was important to her.
Gerry said, “Sure. Ada’s home is in Iguana, but Iguana is an unincorporated township with no police force of its own. So Cleveland County Sheriff’s Department serves it.”
I said, “What was the time of death?”
Gerry shook her head. “Tom won’t talk to me about this. I’ve tried. I guess…the truth is there are a lot of secrets being kept in Cleveland County. My brother is concerned about bumping into any of them. You know, stirring up a hornets’ nest.” She glanced away to the side. Uncomfortable.
Hannah said, “But we need to know the truth. Where there are secrets, there are truths that need exposing.”
I noted the friction between them and changed directions.
I said, “Perhaps the next move is to talk to your mom, Ruth.”
She agreed. “How about lunch? Maybe tomorrow?”
I told her that would be perfect.
I turned to Gerry and said, “Do you think your mom might tell us more with a little coaxing?”
“Well…my mom fought a battle with brain cancer a couple of years back. She’s doing fine as far as we can tell, but now my parents live with us. The battle weakened both of them. And, as I said, my mom’s memory is…not so crisp.”
I could also hear a note of unhappiness. I said, “Maybe as time passes they’ll find the strength to return to their former independence.”
“Maybe.” She sighed. “Sometimes it is a strain, but other times I’m thrilled to have two live-in babysitters. Like vacation time,” she said, eyeing Hannah who assumed the saint’s pose, eyes raised to the heavens.
“Anyway, our boys love them, as well they should. My parents raised seven children. I was literally the middle baby. They’re good Catholics, but both my folks behave as if they aren’t even related to the Stowalls. My dad’s Peter Beardsley and my mom was Sylvia Tanner.”
So were they both Stowalls? I needed to spend more time with the genealogy.
A chill ran up my spine and I shivered slightly, thinking of Matt’s comment about inbreeding. I was also reacting to the wind. It had turned again, now coming from the north, no doubt bringing more rain to our drenched land. And clouds to cover the sun again.
She continued. “Anyway, the Beardsley name is the one that connects with the Stowalls, somewhere back a couple of generations. But you know how it is. As far as keeping up with the rels, it’s a woman’s job, not a man’s. So I usually ask my mom about the family.”
“Do either of you have any other ideas on where I can begin my search?”
Hannah said, “Well, maybe the sisters. The Stowall daughters. But they keep to themselves rather aggressively. I’ve picked up pies at their apple pie restaurant in Julian and they seemed downright rude to me. The only even slightly friendly one is Sarah, and she’s brain damaged.”
Gerry made a disapproving face and said, “Oh, Anne is nice. And, well, Mary is…in her own way. Martha’s a bit…standoffish. But, I think they just value their privacy more than most of us do. And maybe that’s because, well, we’re not sure just why. That’s why we’ve asked you to look into this, Rachel.”
I said, “What happened to Sarah? How did she get damaged?”
Gerry said, “Don’t know. As I’ve explained, my parents are no help. I even tried to ask Victoria once and she grew intensely angry, so I stopped asking her personal questions. She is a fiercely protective mother. You saw a little of that this weekend, although she’s so sick now…”
“ALS. Yes, I know. A terrible way to die.” Surprised at first, they stared at me.
“Then you looked up her meds?” Hannah asked.
So she had seen me in Victoria’s room.
“Right.”
“What? Her meds?” Gerry looked back and forth between us.
I shrugged and said, “I’m a snoop. It’s my job description.”
Gerry smiled. “Huh. Sounds like fun.”
I said, “Okay, the sisters are noted. Anything more?”
They glanced at each other. Hannah nodded. Gerry said, “We can tell you that Victoria’s family is hiding some ancient grievance which has affected them all very badly. It’s that grievance we need to find.”
I tried another tack. “How high up does the Stowall influence reach within the community? I’m having difficulty believing that the cover up of Ada’s misery was the result of a few conspiring local cops?”
Gerry sighed, and scanned the patio again. I began to wonder if she thought there were spies out in the sparsely occupied restaurant.
She said, “This isn’t for publication, Rachel. But, Tom tells me the Stowall influence goes up to and including the Chief of Pinto Springs PD, Chief Frank Broward. Broward is a Stowall, but I think he’s okay. At least, I haven’t heard anything bad about him. And Tom’s own bunch has a couple of midlevel guys who are Stowalls as well.
“But, frankly I’m not convinced that’s the reason for the cover up of the violence against Ada. I think it has more to do with, well, history. I think it’s because her suffering began so long ago—back in the good old days when what happened between a man and his wife was thought to be a private business, that it became an embarrassment for the department, a grievous error in judgment they couldn’t admit to because it would harm their image.
“And I think a lot of them told themselves another old lie; that she was always falling down due to her drinking. And unforgivably, a third, that hateful lie that maybe she deserved it all on some level. You get enough lies lined up together—even bad ones--and you can convince yourself to commit the most atrocious acts of denial and omission.
“After a few years Luke and Ada became the butt of jokes in the department as a kind of defense mechanism. They dubbed him the Staircase Man because his wife fell down so many of them. They hated him, of course, and at first they pitied her. But finally they came to loath her as well, for her weakness.”
She shook her head in disgust then continued.
“And frankly I think they came to hate her even more than Luke…because it was her fault that the whole situation didn’t end. She could have brought an end to it, to their macho thinking, by bringing charges.”
She stopped and took a sip of tea, her blond curls blowing about her head in the increasing wind—mimicking her rising emotions maybe.
Gerry conti
nued. “I believe they know full well Luke killed her. They’re just sitting on this thing, like they’ve sat on it for years.”
I nodded, thinking that would be the easiest answer. Police always look to the spouse first.
Hannah said, “You surprise me sometimes Gerry. You’re very insightful.”
Gerry frowned slightly. “Thanks, I think.” Her frown quickly lifted and she pulled her thin coat about her shoulders. The temperature had lowered and a chill wind did what it promised, brought in new dark clouds.
Hannah said, “What I mean is, even after a couple of years of sewing with you I feel I really don’t know you.”
“Well, it’s a group environment. It’s hard to get close to any one person when there are so many competing voices.”
“And mostly, we sew,” Hannah said, nodding her agreement.
This exchange made me wonder how long it would take me to become real friends with these quilters. I checked my notes. Tried to move the conversation forward once more.
“Okay, can either of you tell me anything more to explain why Ada’s body wasn’t autopsied.”
What I heard for the next few minutes blew my mind almost as much as Ada’s gruesome medical records had.
Hannah said, while drawing air-quotes around certain phrases, “I did some research. Ada was found buried in a ‘legally recognized family plot’ right behind her house. A ‘family doctor’--who I’m pretty sure was connected to the rich and powerful side of the clan--materialized to say that he had been treating Ada for a serious heart condition.”
Gerry made a disgusted noise. I looked at her questioningly. Hannah’s eye contact was…sharper. Definitely not zen.
“It’s just…that whole cliché about the rich and powerful being evil…it just upsets me, that’s all.”
Hannah squared her shoulders. “I didn’t say they were evil.”
“No. You implied it.”
“So who do you think is busily covering up the circumstances surrounding Ada’s death? Who do you think rushed her off to the incinerator…?”
Ada Unraveled Page 12