Esther zeroed in on him right away. He is right up her alley: rich (old family money), retired, AVAILABLE. They got along famously. I am glad he was there. He kept Esther entertained. I believe she enjoyed herself with someone closer to her age on hand. In fact, I believe she gave him her phone number! Oh God! Her phone number! I’ll keep you posted.
The food—made mostly by Luis and Anya—was to DIE for. Esther insisted on buying the pies. She went a little hog wild (as Esther is known to do for “events”). Anya, Cheenah, Milton, Luis, Anita, Steve, and Jillian were there too! It was tight, but we managed. Once the beverages kicked in, it was magical. You would have had a grand time. Everyone was reasonably soused by the time the bonfire activities rolled around. But everyone behaved themselves.
On the Mariella/Cheenah front, I think there is a budding romance there. Cheenah had her hair cut and styled for Thanksgiving and even put on a little bit of makep. She looked pretty smashing I’d have to say! She’s still nervous around Mariella, but Doreen agrees with me it will just be a matter of time. I would love to see Cheenah with a nice woman. She deserves it.
I’m sure you’re wondering how Esther and Doreen got on. It was rocky at first. Esther thought Doreen was a bit masculine and asked me all kinds of questions regarding roles and whatnot. I explained that if I had wanted a man, I would have found one. I told her that Doreen was “all woman” and she shut her piehole after that. But when she saw Doreen’s garage, she inserted herself as Doreen’s new interior designer. She suggested red leather and chrome chairs with a small glass-top table in a “waiting area” with a coffeemaker for customers. Doreen, my girl and ever the “pleaser,” kept giving me the stink-eye while appeasing mother. I thought it was kind of cute. I suppose it was Esther’s way of reaching out. I might even go as far as to say that maybe mother was flirting with her a bit. DON’T SAY A WORD!
I think Esther liked the attention she got all the way around. The tenants enjoyed her stories—some I had never heard (like the time she and her friend made a papier-mâché replica of the principal of her high-school with overly large genitals, and drove it around on the back of Larry Epstein’s convertible). I guess she was a bit of a rabble-rouser in her earlier days. Who woulda thunk?
Oh, you’re going to love this. PK brought her guitar down to the bonfire after dinner, and guess who started singing with her? Cheenah! She has the voice of an angel! It was amazing. PK wants to write a few songs with Cheenah singing backup in the studio! Our Cheenah! Another case of who woulda thunk.
AND … here’s the big news! Steve got down on one knee and proposed to Jillian! He was so nervous he dropped the ring at the edge of the bonfire. She said “yes”! And we all cried. Even Mother.
The wedding is next year in June. I know you and Saul will be on the guest list.
What else?
I have to say I am glad things turned out the way they did. Relief in the form of disclosure. I had to give Mother credit. She tried to understand how hard it was for me to live two lives while growing up. She never saw it but suspected “other agendas” as she put it when it came to Jeanie.
I know it will take time for her to understand that the motel represents more than just a venture. I’m still processing the reality of what I’ve accomplished here and why. Sometimes I think back to the first time I told you about the motel idea and how you said it was going to be “one big-assed mistake.” There were times I thought you were right, even before the exhumation of the bodies. But I have to say, tenacity won out. And of course, you coming to my rescue during the excavation nightmare was key in me not losing my shit altogether! But those days are gone. The garden continues to be a light in my life. And I continue to connect my two lives together to be comfortable in my own skin.
Sometimes I miss Ellis. He was a good father in that he instilled solid values. He was smart, well-informed, and sharp when it came to business. I only wish we had been able to forge a stronger bond at the time of his death. But …
On a lighter note, I am heading to Miami with Doreen for Christmas to be with Vinnie and his boys. It sounds like it’s going to be another one for the books. Vinnie is such a character—old Mafia skinny tough guy! Vinnie wants to meet me to make sure I’m good enough for his Doe!
I’ll give you the full rundown when I see you. Doreen compared Betty Grable, (Vinnie’s house manager, possible bed mate, ew) to Anya. I guess she’s quite endowed, was very sexy in her time and takes no guff. Doreen said she was married once and has a grown son (who, by the way, is in love with Doreen—double ew). Sounds like Vinnie takes good care of her, tho.
Anyhoo, I will WOW them with my gleaming personality and charming good looks! How could they not approve? HAH, don’t answer that!
I’ll be heading to Cleveland right after New Year’s. Doe and I will come back to the motel after Christmas to ring in the new year with everyone here, and Doe is going to run the show while I’m gone. Lindy is going to take Alice, PK, and Mariella with her for Christmas in Atlanta. They’re all going to pile into the Mustang and head north. Would love to be a fly on the dashboard for THAT trip!
So, I want to see Saul and the kids, and maybe you and I can steal away for some much-needed girl time? Mother has plans for us. Dinner and theater at the Cleveland Playhouse, she’s giving a speech for the new wing at the Cleveland Art Museum, dinner with Norman and Gail and their kiddos. It’ll be the usual—busy busy.
Okay, I think this covers most of it. I hope your holiday went well with Saul’s family. Please give him and the kids hugs all the way around. I miss you. Can’t wait to see all of you!
Love you much,
L-
FOURTEEN
Saturday, January 3, 1981
The Pagoda Motel
While Lorna was in Cleveland, Doreen took the helm at the motel. There wasn’t anything different for her to do but to watch over things as usual.
During a phone call with Lorna in Cleveland, Doreen said, “Hang on, someone’s driving up.” She stood up while holding the phone receiver. “Hmm. Looks like a Camaro. Kinda beat up.” Then she murmured, “What a piece of shit.”
“You concerned?”
She watched whoever was driving the car park it and get out from the driver’s side. “Doesn’t look familiar. Let me call you back after I find out what this is all about.”
“You, my loyal watchdog. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Doreen hung up the phone and walked outside to greet the woman.
“Hi there. What can I help you with?”
The woman said, “Oh hi there! I was just wondering if you had any available cabins.”
“Well no, actually, we don’t. They are all rented.”
The woman nodded and looked around without making eye contact with Doreen. “Oh, that’s too bad. My husband and I were hoping to stay here this winter for a month or two.”
Doreen’s hackles rose and she wasn’t sure why. “Oh, I see. Have you stayed here before?”
“Well, no.” She cleared her throat. “We heard about it from a friend.”
Doreen nodded. “Uh huh. Well, sorry to say we’re all booked up.”
The woman appeared to Doreen to be nervous. She kept looking behind her at the cabins. She asked, “Is it all right if I look around. It’s so … quaint. The garden is so beautiful.”
Doreen watched the woman. “Well, I can show you around, but really there aren’t any cabins available, so ...”
“Darn. He’s going to be so disappointed. We really liked coming here. It’s so private and quiet.”
Doreen nodded, “The ownership has changed, and now the cabins are rented for the season.”
The woman nodded again, “Well, I guess we’ll have to find another place to stay.”
Doreen, her arms crossed in front of her chest, said, “I’m sorry. There’s another motel up on Route One called The Palms. They usually have rooms available there.”
The woman hesitated. “Oh sure, I know where The P
alms is.”
Doreen nodded. “Well, have a good day. Sorry we couldn’t be more helpful here.”
The woman started to go back to her car. “Thanks anyhow.”
Doreen watched as the woman started the engine, looked once more at the cabins, and slowly drove out of the turnaround.
Doreen saved the make and model of the Camaro in her head. Something about the whole transaction bothered her, and she wasn’t sure why. Then it struck her. She stopped and muttered, “Wait a minute here. I thought she said she had never been here before, but then a minute later changed her tune that her husband would be so disappointed because they loved coming here.”
She ran inside to call Cheenah at The Palms. When Cheenah answered, Doreen said, “Hey, I just turned someone away who was interested in renting one of the cabins for her and her husband. I told her we were booked and suggested she try your place.”
“Is hokay. Will she come here now?”
“I don’t know. But if she does, stall her and call me.”
“What? Stall her? Like—”
“Just talk to her for a minute. You’re good at that. It’ll give me time to fire up the bike and head over there. I want to follow her.”
“Follow her?” When Doreen did not respond, Cheenah said, “Hokay. I will call you if someone comes in. What does she look like?”
“Short, big boobs. Teased bottle-blond hair, lots of makeup. Drives a tan Camaro.”
“Tan Camaro, lots of boobs. Hokay. I will call you if I see this woman.”
“Thanks, Cheen. You’re the best.”
“Ay.”
Doreen had her doubts about the woman going to The Palms. She had the distinct feeling that there might be more to the story. Just what that was, she wasn’t sure. But she would keep an eye out.
FIFTEEN
Sunday, January 4, 1981
The Pagoda Motel
Doreen turned in for the night. She had just done her routine “walk through” around the motel proper, enjoying the peaceful night air and gentle roll of the surf.
All was quiet. It was a cool night, in the fifties, so Doreen pulled an extra blanket out of the closet and grabbed Lorna’s pillow, bringing it up to her nose. The scent calmed her.
Doreen woke up with a start and looked at the bedside clock. One thirty-four.
She leaned on her elbow, stock still, then sat up in bed, her sense of something amiss raising the short hairs on the back of her head.
She threw back the covers and listened again. Something like a clanking sound was coming from outside of the main building. A sound she had never heard before on the property. Her first thought was that a mechanical issue was at hand. But what? The main air conditioner was off. “The water pumps don’t sound like that,” she mumbled.
She jumped out of bed and put on a sweatshirt and sweatpants then slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops as she made her way to the stairwell. She quickly went down the steps, stopping in the kitchen to retrieve a heavy-duty flashlight that Lorna kept in the utility closet.
She heard the sound again and stepped quietly out of the back door of the main building. She walked toward the source of the sound and ascertained that it was coming from her cabin, the first on the right of the circle.
“What the hell?” She whispered into the dark night.
As she neared her cabin, she saw Anya and Milton walking toward her, a flashlight in Milton’s hand but turned off.
She heard other sounds as well. Voices, in harsh rushed whispers, carrying through the night air.
“Miss Doreen,” Anya hissed, “what is going on?”
Doreen approached them and whispered, “I have no idea. Woke up from a sound sleep. Traced the sound here.”
“Us too,” Milton explained, “we heard something very strange, and we did not know from where. I have never heard this sound before.”
Doreen saw a glimmer of light come from the back of her cabin—as if someone had turned on a flashlight.
Her hackles rose. She felt a sudden chill.
“There’s someone in my cabin.”
Anya leaned forward, witnessing the same scene. “Yes, there must be to be making all this noise!”
Doreen thought about finding a baseball bat or some type of weapon.
They heard the sound again, then raised voices.
They moved forward in a pack.
Doreen whispered, “I’m going to go inside and try to surprise the intruders. You guys step around the back. If you hear anything that sounds like gunfire, call Steve.”
“Gunfire?” Anya hissed. “But Miss Doreen—.” Her eyes were wide.
Doreen shushed her. She whispered back, “Just do it.”
Anya nodded reluctantly, then took Milton by the arm and stealthily moved toward the back of the cabin.
Doreen quietly moved up the front steps of her cabin, avoiding the known creaks in the wood, her heart pounding in her ears.
Whoever was in there was making a good deal of noise. She figured there was more than one person.
She swallowed hard and tried to calm her heart rate. She could use the flashlight as a weapon, but what if they had a gun?
The clanking continued in earnest. Doreen could not, for the life of her, figure out what was going on in there.
Then there came the sound of metal on metal, and the distinct sound of a female voice saying, “Holy shit!”
Doreen took a deep breath, put her slightly shaking hand on the doorknob, then blasted through the door. She ran the few steps to the galley kitchen, slammed her hand on the light switch with a sweaty palm, and called out, “Freeze!”
When the bright overhead light illuminated the room, she could not believe her eyes. All she could manage to say, when she saw a woman who resembled the same woman who approached her yesterday inquiring about renting a cabin was, “You?!”
Then she heard a male voice from behind a black ski mask over his face say, “You?!”
Then silence.
Doreen blinked several times. “What the…?”
There was a hole in the floor of her kitchen about the size of a small dinette table. The refrigerator had been moved aside, and there was dirt and broken wood scattered around the hole. A large metal box with its lid snapped off was near the woman’s feet.
Doreen looked back at them, her breath coming in rasps. When the man took off his face mask, Doreen felt herself sway. She caught herself on the back of a hastily strewn kitchen chair and muttered, “Please tell me this is a bad dream.”
The man said, “Oh my God.”
Doreen sputtered, “Georgie?”
The woman, who was still holding the flashlight on the contents of the metal box even though there was enough light to see, said, “This is the bitch I was tellin’ you about!”
Georgie said with alarming calm, “Irene, meet my sister, Doreen. Doreen, meet Irene.”
Doreen was speechless, her mouth agape. She looked again at the floor, at the metal box, at the dirt and tools used to pull the wood up from the floor beams, and then back at Georgie and Irene.
Anya and Milton ran into the cabin and stopped short of tumbling into Doreen. When they peered into the kitchen, Anya caught her breath. She murmured, “Oh, mi dios!”
Georgie said, “I can explain.”
Doreen answered, “You’ve got three seconds before I call the cops.”
Georgie pulled off his gloves and approached his sister. “No, no. Don’t do that.”
Anya stepped in front of Doreen. “I don’t think so. Who are you and why are you here?”
Doreen pulled Anya back by the shoulder. She said, while never taking her eyes off Georgie, “This is my brother, Georgie, Anya.”
Georgie attempted to approach again, and Doreen called out, “Just stay where you are, Georgie. Just stay where you are.”
Irene said, “We can—”
Doreen shot her a glare, pointing her finger. “You don’t get to talk right now. I knew there was something fishy about you w
hen you just happened by yesterday. You stand there and keep your trap shut until I’m ready for you to talk.”
Irene put her head down and raised her hand palm side out as if to make a truce. “Okay, Okay. Let’s not get too crazy here.”
Georgie put his hand on Irene’s shoulder, “It’s okay, babe. We’re going to work this whole thing out. But first,” he looked back at his sister, “what are you doing here?”
Doreen said, “I happen to live here.”
“Then you knew about the money?”
“What money?”
Anya and Milton quietly gasped.
Georgie looked at them and said, “Who are they?”
Doreen said, “Don’t you worry about who they are. They will call the police in two seconds if you try anything funny. They know about you.”
“Great. Then we’re all friends now.”
“Hardly.” Doreen surveyed the room. She put two and two together, quickly. The hole in the floor, the metal box with a tightly sealed package inside of it, slightly ripped open and revealing what was most likely money. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“Look, I can explain.”
Doreen reached for the phone. “Like I said.”
Georgie put his hands out, “No, wait. Here’s the deal. Irene got word that there was money hidden here from when Gino used the motel as a safe house.”
Doreen cut in, “Who told her this?”
Irene jumped in, “One of my regulars at the diner where I—”
Doreen raised her voice, “I thought I told you to shut your trap!”
“Right, right. Sorry. I was just—"
Doreen shot her a glare before looking at Georgie again, “So, someone tells her there is money buried here. And who might that be, Georgie? Who is still alive to tell that story?”
Ladies of Pagodaville Page 9
