The Bride Wore Dead

by E M Kaplan

  “I’ve been saving up for this vacation for three darn years. I had my plans and everything for months. And then this thing happened up there,” Josie said, shaking her head.

  The woman handed her the credit card receipt and a pen to sign it with. “I haven’t had a day off in about that long myself,” she said.

  “The best laid plans,” Josie agreed. She took the bag with her purchase from the woman and peeked inside. “My niece is going to love this. I don’t usually go so crazy when I’m shopping, but hey—I’m on vacation, right?”

  “Works for me,” the woman said with a small smile, her mouth drawing up like a purse, wrinkles radiating outward through her lips.

  “Plus, they’re only young once.” Josie glanced out the shop window checking for Julie Bosarch. No one in sight still. Just the Honda parked out there in the dust in front of the deserted doctor’s office.

  At that moment, the woman leaned forward conspiratorially. “I knew her, you know.”

  Josie, her eyes still focused outside the window looking for Julie, said, “What’s that?” She wondered what would happen to the doctor’s office now that no one was using it. It had a nice front porch and large, picture windows. It had the look of an old-time dry goods store about it, like it might have been the setting for a gunfight if it had actually been around about a century ago. Josie doubted it. Probably some commercial developer had thought it was a quaint idea. A tourist draw.

  “The woman who they say got murdered. I knew her. She used to come in here.”

  Josie turned back to the woman, suddenly all ears. “Here? She shopped here? You don’t say.” She tried to contain her real curiosity—and to mask it as being more conversationally gossipy.

  The woman nodded. “She didn’t have any children, but she liked buying the clothes. Went nuts over the little shoes. She was planning to have a lot of kids, she told me.”

  “Really,” Josie said making what she hoped was a non-committal sound. Inwardly, her chest burned a little and her stomach sank. More and more, the picture that people were drawing of Leann was breaking her heart.

  “Loved children, that girl did. Such a shame those bastards killed her. At least, that’s what everyone is saying. I don’t doubt it either. We all know the younger one, Peter, used to beat on her.”

  “I’d heard that, too.”

  The woman gave her a strange look. She glanced out the window, and her faced cleared. “You’re a friend of Julie’s, aren’t you? That’s why. You should have reminded me about that. I would have given you a discount on your purchase. We try to take care of each other here.”

  Oh really, Josie thought to herself. But apparently Leann was still something of an outsider for all the good their “taking care of each other” did for her. “Don’t worry about it,” Josie told the woman. “I know you have to make a living, too. Besides, I’m on vacation.”

  “You’d better go on then,” the woman said. “Looks like she’s waiting for you.” In the space of the minute or so that Josie had taken her eyes off the street, Julie had arrived. She had gotten out of her car, noticed Josie’s, and was looking for her. The woman continued, “But if you buy anything else in here while you’re still visiting, I’ll take five percent off.”

  Josie thanked the woman, oddly touched to be let into her insider’s status. To this woman, a discount was probably as close to a gesture of friendship as anything. Even if it was only a measly five percent. “So the others around here, did they know Leann, too?”

  “Sure,” the woman admitted. “We all did. She’d been coming here a good nine, ten years. Stayed up at the house mostly—not like the last time. When she wanted to get away, she’d get one of them to drop her off for a few hours. Didn’t always say much while she was here. Sometimes had to wear some dark glasses, even indoors, if you know what I mean.”

  Josie nodded grimly. Yes, unfortunately, she did know what the woman meant. “What a shame,” she said—the small town equivalent of gushing sorrow. Julie had looked up and down the street and had gone into the doctor’s office.

  The woman agreed, “Damn shame.”

  #

  Josie left the store and hurried across the street. She let herself into the office yet again, feeling just as much of a trespasser as she had last time.

  “Julie? I’m here,” she called out as if to assure herself that she was there legitimately. Julie came quickly out of the back office. She gave Josie a weak smile and an equally weak handshake. Her fingers were brown with the nails trimmed all the way down. The skin on the back of her hands had a papery look.

  “Thanks so much for coming to see me. Let’s just sit out here in the waiting area.” She brushed some dust off the leather chairs. “Sorry about the mess. I have some cleaners coming in next week. They’re going to fix up the place, and then I’ll lease it out to someone hopefully.” She was wearing a tie-dyed sundress and carrying a woven drawstring purse that looked like it might have been made out of hemp. A powdery smell wafted around her, and Josie identified it as sandalwood, probably from incense. Her eyes looked tired, more so than the last time Josie had seen her.

  “By the way, thanks for not pressing charges. I probably shouldn’t have come in without asking you first,” Josie said.

  “Not a problem. I figured you were trying to do what you could to help. No one was going to get hurt. At least, not now. I think all the damage to that woman had already been done, if you know what I mean. Ugh. What a mess this place is.” She fussed some more with the dust on the seats. Although agitated, she still talked about Leann in objective, almost scientific terms, as if she’d examined the situation and had already developed a thesis on it. She was sitting with her legs crossed so tightly that the top leg wrapped around again at the ankles tucking one foot behind the other.

  “Hey, at least I got to meet two of Puerta’s finest.” Josie said. When she got a blank look in return, she said, “The police.”

  “Ah,” Julie said. “I went to high school with those two. I guess all I can say is, that’s what happens if you stay in the small town that you grew up in. They’re nice enough and all, but their frame of mind is so…well, small. I mean, how can you expect to know anything about the world unless you go out and see some of it.”

  “Hm.” Josie nodded and made a sound that she hoped would sound as if it were in agreement. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she agreed. There was a whole lot you could learn in a small town. She looked at her Aunt Ruth as an example. The woman knew more about the world just from sitting in her kitchen than most folks learned scurrying to and from their jobs in any major city. Josie asked, “So, what did you want to tell me?”

  “Well, it’s about my father. Because he’s so sick now, I feel like—well, I feel like he could die any day now.” She paused, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “No, I don’t mean that. What do I mean?... This sounds horrible, but I guess I feel like he’s gone already.” She looked at Josie for understanding. Josie thought about her own mother, living a shell of an existence and nodded, a pang in her gut.

  Julie continued, “Anyway, I’ve been going through his medical records and stuff. A lot of his patients have already transferred to new doctors, so I’m bundling up their records and mailing them to the new offices. Dad had an office assistant, but I already let her go. She didn’t really want to stay and sift through everything. But anyway, I came across Leann Ash’s medical records.”

  “She was a patient of your father’s then?”

  Julie frowned. “Well. At least while she was here. I mean, from what I can tell just by reading through the record—I’m no doctor. I’m a doctoral student in geology at the U of A. But you can tell from looking at her record that she wasn’t in for routine checkups or anything, like no annual exams. She was just here when she…when she needed something specific.”

  Julie was being particularly circumspect, so Josie took a wild guess. “Does this have to do with drugs?”

  “Drugs?” Julie looked puzzled at firs
t. “Oh no, she didn’t have a drug problem. Although who would have blamed her if she had.” Julie paused. “This is really hard for me. I’ve idolized my father my whole life. At one point, I thought I was going to be a doctor just like him. Maybe take over his practice when the time came.” She looked like she was about to get choked up again. “I mean, I went to Mills College for my undergrad studies. And he encouraged me. I was in protests and everything—I actually helped organize some of them—but all the same…”

  Josie shook her head. “I’m not quite following you, Julie.”

  Julie blinked a couple of times. “Abortions. He performed abortions on Leann Ash.”

  “Abortions,” Josie repeated. Hadn’t Leann been trying for a child?

  Julie nodded. “Yes. Three of them over a span of about six years.”

  “Jesus, that’s a lot,” Josie said. It was hard even to imagine.

  “I mean, I’m not a doctor or anything, but that’s got to take a toll on you physically and emotionally. There don’t seem to be any serious medical complications from looking at her records, but my God, it really makes you stop and think. Is this what the right to choose was all about? What kind of rights did she have and why didn’t she just object?” Julie said. “I feel funny for saying it after all the pro-choice rallies that I’ve been at and letter-writing campaigns and stuff…but from what I’ve heard about Leann and those Williams brothers, I really wonder what kind of choice she had. It sounds like some kind of Dark Ages servitude, if you know what I mean. And now she’s dead. Partly in thanks to my father.” Julie looked glum and plucked at her woven handbag.

  “Maybe not,” Josie said. “If she hadn’t gone to your father, who knows what awful quack might have butchered her.” In truth, she was just trying to make Julie feel better. It was obviously not her fault that her father had participated in the whole awful event. It seemed to Josie now that Leann had indeed been kept in line for many years. Who knew whether the abortions were just symptomatic of her situation or actually part of the slow, torturous progression toward her eventual death.

  Julie looked doubtful. “Maybe.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that suggested a young, pre-teen girl who’d once worn glasses, and probably braces. Despite her trendy tattoos, she had an awkwardness that lingered about her.

  “You family is from back east?” Josie asked.

  “My parents lived in Boston before I was born. You’re trying to find some connection between them and the Williamses, aren’t you? I couldn’t find anything in my dad’s papers. No photos or anything. It’s possible that they knew each other in college or something.” She looked doubtful and…perplexed. Josie recognized the feeling of having no one left to ask about family issues or history.

  “Did your father ever serve in the military?”

  “I’m not sure.” She frowned. “If he did, it was only for a short time. Or maybe he didn’t. He’s always had a hearing problem in one ear. His left one. That might have disqualified him. I don’t really know what the rules are about that. I’m sorry, I’m not being all that much help.”

  “What about your mother? Would she know?”

  She frowned again. “Mom’s been dead for about five years now.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. I’m a bit of an orphan now. Well, half way to being one.”

  Josie nodded. “Me, too. I guess, eventually, we all are. Just some sooner than others.” Her train of thought took her back to Lydia Ash, Leann’s mother. What kind of woman was she, really? Where was Mr. Ash? How could she raise a daughter so susceptible to abuse? Maybe Mr. Obregon would know. Which reminded her that she needed to check in with him in…and suddenly, she wondered how he’d compiled the list of people’s names in Puerta that he’d given her. Dr. James Bosarch. Det. Mike Flores. Lillian Horner. Tammy Roberts. Maria Garza. Who had given him that list? She hadn’t been able to interview one person without running into another. They were all connected, it seemed, in this small town.

  Julie dug around in her hemp bag. “Well anyway, I made copies of the pages of Leann’s file for you. Do you think that was all right? I mean, my father didn’t do anything illegal. She was already an adult when he performed the first one. And she’s dead now, so there’s no confidentiality stuff to worry about, right?”

  “It’ll be fine,” Josie said and took the papers from her. She had no clue, actually, but figured that the papers would be important eventually, though she wasn’t sure if she had nerve enough to show them to Greta Williams.

  “Besides, if it nails those evil men, I’ll do anything to help.”

  Josie thanked her although she wasn’t sure either if it would help in any way. She was starting to compile a significant stack of clues that pointed to the brothers’ cruel past. But none of it was real evidence, nothing that would stand up in court during a trial. For one thing, her “client” was the brothers’ mother. She doubted that Greta Williams would be pressing charges against her own sons. But Josie folded the papers up and tucked them into her pocket anyway.

  “I have a lot of belongings of my parents to go through, but I haven’t had time to do it. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get to it. There’s so much of it. I don’t think they ever threw anything away. I’m trying to get my dissertation wrapped up. Then, I’ll have to start working on defending it eventually. I’m sorry. I guess some of the stuff might help you.” She offered an apologetic smile. “But thanks for coming to see me,” Julie said. “It’s a tragedy that yet another woman had to die from domestic violence. Especially in this day and age. You’d think the statistics on that would be better by now. It’s still something like one out of every three women in the world suffers from domestic abuse.” She sighed and they walked out to their cars together, with Julie carefully locking the office door behind them.

  Josie certainly hadn’t thought of Leann as a statistic. And she was starting to get the uncomfortable feeling that Julie was helping her out because she thought Josie was pursuing the details of Leann’s death for the betterment of a bigger cause. But did it really matter? She waved at Julie as they got into their separate cars. The woman had helped her, and that was all that counted. Even though Josie still wondered if she was getting any closer to finding out what had really happened, she certainly had a clearer picture of what Leann’s situation had been like before she died.

  She turned her car away from Puerta and, as she did so, noticed the face of the shopkeeper of the children’s’ clothing store, watching from her window.

  CHAPTER 22

  Josie had that tingling sensation in the inside of her cheeks she always got when she was about to do something stupid and knew it. After leaving downtown Puerta, she drove along the wide, blacktop road that connected the little town back to Tucson, following Detective Flores’s directions. At the turnoff into the Williams’ private drive, she pulled the car onto the dusty shoulder and wrestled with herself for a few minutes.

  Finally, shaking off any remaining vestige of common sense, she turned and drove up the mesquite-lined driveway toward the older brother Michael Williams’s house—the brother she had sat with at the wedding. She intended to skirt around the main house to find Maria Garza in the maid’s house in the back. But first, she had to get past the lion’s den.

  Much farther back from the main road, the driveway turned into a wide, smoothly paved strip of pale, textured cement. Artful landscaping made the transition from desert to what was ostentatious luxury. The road went uphill and opened up into a circular turnaround with a large Spanish fountain in the center. Purple petunias cascaded around the fountain with blossoms and leaves lush enough for even Josie to notice. No petunias like those could had survived a Sonoran summer—these were recently planted and heavily watered, a true extravagance.

  At the top of the drive, a palatial two-story house presided with its red-tiled roof and white stucco walls. In villa fashion, its front was actually a large patio within courtyard walls. The fron
t doors that led into the courtyard were impressive wooden doors—maybe taken from an old church—swung wide open, which allowed Josie to see the tiled floor and greenery inside the patio. From her car, she had quite a good view into it; the greenery was startling when everything else in the subtle flora of the desert was brown in comparison.

  She steered the Honda along the side of the house. The paved drive continued beyond and curved toward what she discovered was a large garage at the side of the house. It could house three, maybe four cars, she figured, but there was no way to peek in behind the carved wooden garage doors to see where his vehicular tastes ran. She figured him for a Jaguar enthusiast, assuming that his highbrow tastes made him an Anglophile. At the moment, however, she was more interested in avoiding him than asking him.

  She eased the little Honda off the pavement onto a dirt land that led to a smaller house beyond the garage. This house, Detective Flores had told her, was the original landowner’s home. The two-bedroom cottage was similar in coloring to the new main house. The cottage’s smaller scale and humble features gave it a much more authentic air. The mesquites around it were mature and shaded it for the most part. Flores had told her that even the kitchen wasn’t part of the house originally. All of the cooking had been done out behind the house in a stone oven or over an open flame. They’d added the kitchen sometime in the 1960s, while the main house that Michael lived in had been constructed in the 1990s.

  Josie parked off to the side of this smaller house, hoping that the dun color of the Honda would further help it to be unremarkable if anyone happened to glance this direction from the main house. Nevertheless, she looked around her with apprehension as she went up to the small house. She nearly missed the small cat that was sprawled across the welcome mat.