“He had his feet planted in two worlds, my Sacramento. If he’d lived longer, he would have done well in both.”
“I didn’t know him, Agnes, but I share your sorrow that he didn’t get to do that. He was already an interesting young man.”
“May we look inside his closet?” Kim asked.
“Yes, it’s very large for how few clothes he owned.”
“You never exaggerate,” I commented when Kim opened the door, and we stepped inside. A variety of sports equipment was stored in the closet with only a few pairs of shoes, including what looked like a pair with cleats. Hiking boots and riding boots were also in the closet. For some reason, the half-empty shelves and nearly empty racks embarrassed me when I compared them to mine. “He was no clothes horse like me.”
“Refusing to wear fancy, expensive clothes was an act of independence in a family that found it hard to offer him much of that,” Auntie Agnes observed. “Sacramento wasn’t given much control over his own life even after he excelled in almost everything he was asked to do. So, he took it for himself where he could. Not all his choices were good ones. If he had any part to play in dying too young, it was in the poor ways he chose to fight with his family—drinking too much, taking drugs, hanging out at the casino, and staying out at night. That was all time spent in useless, even risky ways.”
“He wouldn’t have been the first teen to act that way. He shouldn’t have paid the price he did,” Kim offered as she walked to the back of the closet.
“Ha-ha! Sacramento had a wicked sense of humor,” I announced in a voice that seemed too loud. Suddenly, Sacramento’s spirit had erupted, bursting the bubble of silence that had settled in around us. “These shelves don’t hold clothes but more books. They’re books about environmental studies, sustainable development, environmental preservation, organizing for political action. Now, that’s making a statement, isn’t it?”
“I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. It’s just like him, although I doubt his father even knew what he’d done,” Agnes said. “I probably spent more time with Sacramento than his parents did even before he began to test them. Especially once Tessa found out John was unfaithful, which he has done to her again.”
“Louie told me they’re getting a divorce. Is it true?”
“Yes. That’s why John isn’t living here, and Tessa’s gone to Reno for a divorce.”
“Didn’t Louie say he had a duffel bag?” Kim asked, interrupting us as she bent down to examine a haphazard pile of boxes and other items in a back corner.
“Yes, he did. Is that his?” I asked, joining Kim. When I knelt beside her on the carpeted floor, I spotted a name scrawled on a cardboard box next to the duffel bag: Louie J.
“Now, what do we do?” Kim asked. “If we call George, he’ll have to get a search warrant, and that means the authorities will notify John Lugo or his wife that we’ve been poking around in here.”
“We’re not close enough to sorting out the tangled mess Louie’s mixed up in. All we need is to set off a full-blown battle between the local police, the Lugos, and tribal authorities,” I said. “From what you’ve said, there’s a battle already brewing.”
On the way here, Kim had told me the conversation with Billy Castro hadn’t gone on long before the lawyer already representing Timothy Ridgeway had shown up. Andrew Clearwater quickly went into a rant about harassment of the tribal police, but that hadn’t kept George from arresting Billy Castro and filing charges against him for trespassing, destroying hospital property, assault, and attempted murder.
When they searched Billy Castro, they found a small zippered pack in a jacket pocket like those carried by people with diabetes or allergies to bee stings. It contained a loaded needle, and the staff in the hospital lab quickly determined it contained a lethal dose of opioids.
“This isn’t a crime scene and Louie’s your client, so there’s an argument to be made that we came here to retrieve Louie’s personal property and keep it for him until he’s released back into the community. I say we rely on Auntie Agnes’ cover story and take it with us.”
“Being charged with theft on top of trespassing will only make matters worse. If we were certain the tea the Cleaner Man gave Louie was in the boxes or duffel bag, it might be worth going to war over his belongings, but until we go through them, we won’t know whether it’s in them or not,” I replied.
“I’m a Lugo, and you’re not trespassing because I gave you permission to be here. I’m also asking you to help me remove those items and return them to their rightful owner.” Auntie Agnes paused, leaning closer to me. “Did I say it right and with proper authority, just in case Imelda needs to explain it to someone else later?”
When she asked that question, Agnes dropped the snippy tone she’d adopted when demanding that we remove Louie’s property. I’d never heard her speak that way to anyone before. I could only imagine she was mimicking Sacramento’s mother or her friends.
“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” I winked at the small woman’s wrinkled face that glowed with delight at her part in the charade she was playing. As we moved Louie’s things near the door leading from Sacramento’s bedroom, Kim nudged me and pointed to a vent near the floor beside Sacramento’s bed. That had to be the one Louie told me about today.
“Do you want to do the honors or shall I?” Kim pulled out a packet of small tools and went to check the screws on the plate covering the register. “Heck, these are so loose I don’t need my tools.”
“Auntie Agnes, you might not want to watch this,” I said, speaking in a low, confidential tone. “If you turn your back, you can honestly say you have no idea what’s in there. We’re looking for the letter we told you about, and don’t care about anything else we find.”
“It’s girlie magazines and special tobacco he uses for the tribal rituals he practiced. I caught him once before he could close it.” Then she paused and began laughing. “Sacramento was fifteen and was so shocked he grew pale. He turned so white I told him he looked like a paleface or a spirit creature.”
“Just in case, please turn your back for a moment. If there’s anything of value to the police, we’ll have to leave it here and call them.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be the lookout. Imelda is a kind woman, but she can be nosy.”
By the time Auntie Agnes was facing the door, Kim had already donned a pair of gloves, removed the vent cover, and held a small baggie of pot, along with a few pills in a prescription bottle.
“His mom’s,” Kim said quietly as she read the name on the pill bottle. She placed it, along with the other items, on top of an evidence bag that she’d spread out on the carpet. Then she reached inside again.
“I’m not sure what this is, but we don’t have much time. Do you want to take pictures, and we’ll take a closer look once we get home?” Kim opened the cover on a document held together with metal brads.
“It’s an environmental impact study,” I said as I focused on the cover page. “Since it’s hidden instead of in the closet with his other books and materials related to the environment, it must be important. If you turn the pages, I’ll take more photos.”
After taking a dozen photos, I began to feel anxious about how long we were taking. I wasn’t sure Auntie Agnes’ cover story would be enough to explain why we were peering into an HVAC duct if Imelda came up here to find us.
“Let’s hope we’ve got enough pictures to figure out what’s in this report. We can get our own copy. Before you shove it back in there, will you give it a shake to see if a letter falls out of it?”
“No letter and I don’t see anything else in there,” Kim said, after shaking the report, and looking in the vent again.
“We’d better get out of here. Do you have a little penlight in that kit?”
“Yep,” Kim responded and searched one more time. “That was a good idea, boss. Look what I found.” She held up a beautiful turquoise pendant with a silver clasp and a chain.
“I wonder why su
ch a gorgeous pendant is in Sacramento’s hiding place.”
“I don’t know why it’s in there,” Auntie Agnes said, not more than a few inches from me. I jumped out of my skin and had to cover my mouth to keep from yelping. Kim was startled too and dropped the pendant. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but when you said pendant, I had to see it. Tessa said it was stolen. The pendant is one hundred years old, and the precious stone is a special one that has been in the family longer than that. There’s a story behind how it came to belong to the Lugos, although that wasn’t their name then. I can tell your guilty feelings are making you jumpy, so the story can wait for another time.”
“Do you want the pendant, or should we return it to the hiding place?” Kim asked.
“If you find that you need to call the police about what’s in the report, they’ll take the pendant too, won’t they?”
“Yes, and they’ll hold onto it for a while—especially if it was reported stolen.”
“Then I’ll take it. Sacramento had no reason to steal it since it would have been his one day anyway. He must have decided it needed to be hidden for some other reason.”
“May I take a picture of it first?”
“Yes. Will you send me a copy?” Agnes asked.
“Of course.” After I’d snapped several photos using my phone, Kim placed the pendant in a hanky Auntie Agnes held. Agnes wrapped it carefully and put it in a skirt pocket. “Let’s get all Louie’s stuff out of here,” I said. “If you check in with Imelda, Auntie Agnes, Kim and I can carry Louie’s stuff to my car.”
“Are you sure you can do it without my help?”
“You can carry the duffel bag downstairs to the front door if you’d like, then I think the best way you can help is to tell Imelda we’ll be there once we’re finished using the restroom.”
The boxes we carried were awkward but not heavy. Auntie Agnes opened the front door for us and set the duffel bag on the covered porch before leaving us to finish the task. I was so relieved to have Louie’s items stowed in my trunk so Kim and I could return indoors. It wasn’t just because the heat felt like a blast furnace and the AC was blissfully refreshing.
No matter what Auntie Agnes said, I felt as if we were trespassing. Imelda seemed to be an amiable woman. In my hypervigilant paranoid state, I wondered if she wasn’t a little too amiable. Bernadette would have asked a few more questions about who we were and what had brought us to the house, even if someone she knew had accompanied us. When we left after lunch, I glanced around to make sure the driveway was clear, and I was certain I saw the curtain at the front window flutter to a close.
“Auntie Agnes, thank you for helping us. My mind is whirling with questions, but I feel as if Sacramento is a real person to me now. That’s important because, in criminal investigations, people become bodies or victims too easily. Clues to who killed them and why are often found in who they were as people—as a son or a friend; as a business or romantic partner.”
“Or a nephew,” Auntie Agnes commented.
“Yes. What makes you so sure the Cleaner Man killed Sacramento rather than someone else?”
“I’m not as sure as I was. My head is full of questions too. I knew right away that Louie couldn’t have killed Sacramento because they were as close as brothers. Sacramento was so fearful for Louie. I believed he was right to be scared because he told me the Cleaner Man had killed before. When Sacramento was found dead, I wished I’d told him to heed the warning too. I was sure the Cleaner Man had killed again.” When Auntie Agnes sighed, I felt guilty about how stressful today must have been for her. Especially after visiting Nick, who was doing better but still wasn’t the old Nick. “Don’t you wonder how el hombre limpio became the man he is?”
“Yes, I do, but I wonder the same thing about anyone who uses murder to solve a problem. A sad fact about murder, Auntie Agnes, is that it’s almost always someone close who kills,” I explained.
“From what we’ve learned about the Cleaner Man, he works hard to become close to his victims before he kills them,” Kim commented. “That makes him a little odd as a killer.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. He’s on a mission, but he sure takes his time, doesn’t he?”
“After learning how many secrets Sacramento was keeping, maybe the Cleaner Man didn’t kill him. I knew Louie could never do such a thing, but it’s hard to believe anyone else close to Sacramento murdered him.”
“We’re still not sure who was close to him. Louie mentioned a man named Manny who was fired from the casino. Do you know him?”
“Manny Ortiz is a friend Sacramento made when he began sneaking into the casino. I don’t know him, but John hired Manny and then fired him for some reason. Sacramento was upset about it when it happened but didn’t say too much after that.”
“Did you know Sacramento visited Manny at the Agua Caliente Casino in Palm Springs?”
“No, but I’m glad he did if he felt that was the right thing to do.” Auntie Agnes smiled sweetly.
“Now that I have his last name, it’ll be easy to find Manny and see what he says about their friendship. Thanks.” I paused, trying to find the right words to ask about another of Sacramento’s secrets. “Do you believe Tessa would speak to me?”
“It’s hard to say,” Auntie Agnes replied. “She’s a different woman these days—sometimes from one hour to the next. Tell me why and maybe I can help you come up with the best way to ask her.”
“I’d like to find out more about her friends. Louie said Sacramento was secretly involved with an older woman. He saw them together a few times and thought she could be one of his mother’s friends. Louie also said that a woman named Belinda helped Sacramento with his plans to go to college, but he wasn’t sure if she was the woman he’d seen with Sacramento.”
“Belinda’s help was no secret. She wanted Sacramento to go to college and thought he should study whatever he wanted while he was there. I heard Belinda tell Tessa and John that young people go to college to find out what they want to do, so they shouldn’t make a fuss about it.”
“Who is she? I don’t even know her last name.”
“Belinda Morgan. Her husband, Lenny, is a friend of John’s. Taylor Morgan, their son, works as a counselor at a college in San Bernardino. He told Belinda that students often change their minds many times before choosing a career and a degree to go with it.”
“From what Louie said, Sacramento’s mother was more open to the idea than his father.”
“Yes. Tessa told John he ought to understand since he was no longer a boy but still often changed his mind about who he wanted as a wife.”
“I’ll bet that didn’t go over well,” Kim said from where she’d been sitting quietly in the back seat. Auntie Agnes laughed.
“You’ve got that right. Steam was coming from his ears. Toot! Toot!” She laughed again. “John is my brother’s son, but he isn’t always an easy man to like. Pride and stubbornness aren’t always bad since pride gives you ambition, and stubbornness helps you achieve it. If ambition isn’t about more than yourself, it can make you selfish and alone. That’s what has happened to my brother’s son. It’s made him cold and hard too. I can’t blame Tessa for divorcing him. Tessa might speak to you when she gets back from Reno in another day or two.”
She was quiet as we drove to her neighborhood. When we pulled into the short driveway of Auntie Agnes’ tidy house, the contrast to Tessa Lugo’s house was striking. Its modesty hit me squarely between the eyes. My heart rate sped up because the cottage-like home seemed vulnerable to me after the fortress in which we’d had lunch. The Lugo home had a private gate even though it sat inside a guard-gated community, patrolled by security that had passed us on our way out.
“Auntie Agnes, how would you feel about coming home with me for a few days? I have a poodle I’d love for you to meet.” Auntie Agnes stared and had no trouble seeing right through me.
“You’re not as good at charades as I am,” she cackled. “You’re worried someone’s go
ing to come after me, aren’t you? Peter already tried to talk me into putting a guard here. I told him no because it makes me feel like I’m the one who’s in jail.”
“Jessica has a point, Auntie Agnes,” Kim added. “Since we don’t know who the Cleaner Man is, it’s hard to protect you from him. You’ve been outspoken about the fact you believe he killed Sacramento, so he may have the advantage if he knows who you are.”
“And, he’s not the only one who knows how outspoken you’ve been and that you’ve befriended Louie Jacobs’ lawyer. It would ease all our minds. We have plenty of room and Anastasia loves company as much as the Pomeranians.” I was speed-talking by then, and sort of gasped for air.
“Breathe, my friend,” Auntie Agnes laughed. “You win. Nick said I should meet Bernadette. From the way he speaks about her, she must be one of the reasons you’re the woman you are. Do you have room in your trunk for a bag? I can’t stay overnight without my pills.”
“Thank goodness you’re a reasonable woman,” Kim added as she opened the back door of the car. “You can help us celebrate a secret I’m going to share tonight, although I’m not sure how much of a secret it really is.”
13 Errand Boys
We had a wonderful celebration for Kim and Brien’s engagement, which, as it turned out, wasn’t much of a secret. Brien had already told each of us that he was going to ask Kim to marry him. Peter had gone with him to pick out the ring. Bernadette must have had advance notice from Brien about tonight because she’d prepared another of her amazing feasts.
“Let’s go ahead and sit down. Frank called, and he’s running behind. He’ll catch up with us over dessert, if not before. George is going to join us then too.” I sat next to Auntie Agnes. “This is Agnes Lugo, who needs no introduction because I’ve spoken about her so often. She’s agreed to stay with us for a few days.”
“Welcome, Agnes. I’m Tommy Fontana, sort of the little brother Jessica never had. I’ll apologize ahead of time for being annoying, but that’s what younger brothers do. I’m glad you’re here except that you’ve stolen Anastasia from me.” Anastasia had taken to Agnes right away and had been glued to her side since she arrived.
A Dead Nephew Page 14
