A Well-Kept Family Secret

by Marja McGraw

  “Thank you,” she said gratefully, fanning for all she was worth. “I started having these hot flashes about a year ago, and they’re driving me crazy.”

  “The change of life?” I asked tremulously. My mother going through menopause would be my worst nightmare come true. I flipped on the air conditioning.

  “Yes, dear, the curse is on me. It’s terrible. One minute I’m fine, and the next I’m hot and irritable. The heat from the hot flashes makes me feel like I’ve got burning coals under my skin and inside my chest. And I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?” I asked hopefully.

  “No! What for?” She sounded irritable again.

  “Hormone pills,” I said desperately, thinking that the curse was a good description. “You need hormone pills, Mother. I worked with a woman who went through menopause and hormone pills changed her life.”

  “Horse pucky!” she said adamantly.

  “What?” My mother didn’t say things like horse pucky. Ever. That was as close to swearing as I’d ever heard her come.

  “You heard me. I’m not going to some quack to have him give me pills and tell me I’m old. And that’s the end of that.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Hormone pills don’t mean you’re old. Some women start the change as young as forty.”

  She looked at me in surprise. Not only had I told her how it is, but I’d talked back to her.

  “You think?”

  “Yes. While you’re here, let me make an appointment for you with my doctor and let’s get this taken care of. It sounds like you need some relief.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said thoughtfully. “I just never thought you’d be the one to help me get it. Is your doctor a man or a woman?”

  “A woman.”

  “Hmmm.”

  I didn’t know what else to say, so I kept my mouth closed. I was amazed that I wasn’t turning into that kid who usually showed up when my mother was around. We were talking woman to woman, and I liked it. I wondered how long it would last.

  “So tell me, Mother, what’s this trip all about? What murder?”

  “I’m trying to think of a good way to put this,” she said, tapping her finger against the map that now rested in her lap. “You know that your great-great-great grandfather owned one of the biggest and fanciest brothels in Old Los Angeles, right?”

  “Yes, I know all about that.”

  “Well, maybe you don’t know quite everything, dear. Did you know he was accused of murdering a woman?”

  “What?” She could have knocked me over the head with a rolling pin and I wouldn’t have been any more surprised. And she’d said it so casually.

  “He never went to trial or to prison. They didn’t have evidence. And that’s why I’m here.” She stopped talking, as if this was explanation enough.

  “What’s why you’re here? What are you talking about? Give me more information than that, Mother. Why are you here? And be specific.”

  “That’s simple. I want you to solve the case and figure out who really committed the murder.”

  Chapter Three

  1898

  The old man’s steps slowed when he neared his house. Had it only been a year ago that he’d walked home under the same circumstances? Maybe not quite the same circumstances.

  A year ago Vincente had entered the house and found death waiting for him. A year ago he hadn’t felt so old. And a year ago he hadn’t been thinking about telling Jessica to leave, the nurse he’d hurried home to and found dead.

  He rolled his eyes heavenward, thinking about the new nurse, Florence. He wanted her to leave without incident. Why couldn’t she have been the one to die?

  2003

  My mouth dropped open. “Just like that,” I said incredulously. “You want me to step forward and solve a murder that happened about a hundred years ago.”

  “A little over a hundred years,” she replied, absentmindedly brushing something real or imagined off her sleeve.

  “Are you nuts?” Whoops! Shouldn’t have said that.

  “If anyone can do it, Sandra, you can.” Mother sounded a bit too casual. The use of the name Sandra, instead of Sandi, meant she didn’t like me calling her nuts. It was really only a rhetorical question, but I shouldn’t have called her nuts. When would I ever learn?

  “But Mother, there aren’t any witnesses left. There aren’t any clues to follow. How on earth do you expect me to do this?” Desperation spurred me on.

  “I have the utmost confidence in you, my dear. You’ll find a way.” She said this with finality, not leaving room for arguments.

  “Mother, why do you want me to solve this murder?”

  “Well, Sandra, that should be obvious. It’s a black mark against our family. And it’s always bothered us.”

  Was that the royal us? “Who’s us?”

  “Why, your aunt Martha and me.”

  The little kid in me peeked out, but soon stealthily backed away, leaving me by myself. The sniveling little chicken.

  “Let me give this some thought,” I said, hoping to put her off until later.

  “I know all about how you solved that case of the missing boy. And you’ve told me how good you are at researching things…” Her voice trailed off.

  I could feel her staring at me and I refused to glance at her.

  “Why haven’t I ever heard this story before?” I asked, regretting any mention I’d ever made of researching and the missing college student.

  “It’s not something anyone wanted to talk about. After all, it is a family scandal.”

  “Well, we already have one family scandal. What’s one more?” I should have left well enough alone. My father had left my mother and me in a fix when he died suddenly of a heart attack. I was a teenager at the time. He really was a wonderful man, but he’d made some crucial business mistakes and left us in a bind. Okay, so they weren’t mistakes. He’d played with money that wasn’t his. And we’d had to take the fallout. It had been a very difficult time for my mother and me.

  “Sandra! I don’t want to talk about your father’s little indiscretion.”

  “Sorry, Mother. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” I was humble, truly apologetic. The words had simply popped out of my mouth unbidden, but had she really said little indiscretion? Neither of us had ever stopped to wonder how Dad had provided us with the extravagant lifestyle we’d lived. We just took it for granted that he made a much better than average salary.

  “Why don’t we wait and I’ll give you the details tomorrow, after we’ve both had some rest.” Mother’s face turned red and she began to fan herself again. The air conditioning didn’t seem to be helping.

  “Would you like me to stop and buy you some iced tea? Or something?”

  “No! And don’t try to baby me,” she snapped. “I may as well get used to these hot flashes. I understand I could go through them and the other symptoms for up to fifteen years.”

  Oh no! Fifteen years? I’d better get her in to see my doctor as soon as possible. She didn’t need this, and neither did I. Neither did Pete, for that matter. I hoped he’d be wearing his flak jacket when he met my mother.

  “Dinner,” I said, pulling the thought out of the air. “That’s right, Pete is taking us out to dinner tonight.” That should perk her up.

  She made an odd noise, rather like a humph. “Food doesn’t sound too tempting right now. However, I do want to meet Pete. He sounds very nice over the phone.” Her voice softened a bit. Pete generally had that effect on women. I hadn’t realized that applied to phone conversations, too.

  “Well, you can meet him tonight. I know you’ll like him, and he’s taking us to a great restaurant.”

  “That sounds nice, dear,” she said cheerfully.

  I gulped. I’d heard about the mood swings that come with the change of life, but I’d never imagined the swing would be moving so fast. I needed a moment to regroup, and fortunately things were quiet for the next few miles. />
  “Do we have much farther to go?” My mother was fidgeting as she watched the scenery go by.

  “Yes, it’s about another twenty miles.”

  “Okay, so I won’t wait until tomorrow to tell you the story. He really was innocent, Sandi,” she said, warming back up to me.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because the family always knew he was innocent.” Apparently his innocence wasn’t arguable.

  “How did they know this?”

  “They just did.” This was going to be a real adventure in patience. I hoped I was up to the task.

  “Okay, Mother. But why don’t we wait and have this discussion later? That way I can take some notes while you tell me the story. This happened so long ago that I’ll need to take notes. And there’ll be a lot to remember and check into.” My mind was whirling at the thought of all the research.

  “I’ll give you some background now, and you can ask questions and take your notes later.” She was insistent. “Your grandfather, I forget how many greats--”

  “There are three greats,” I interjected. Was the memory going too? She’d known it was three-greats a few miles back.

  “Okay, your great-great-great-grandfather, Vincente Chavez, owned and operated one of the biggest, classiest brothels in Old L.A. He was well known along the entire West Coast, and he was quite influential in the political world. They say he had several politicians in his hip pocket, so to speak.

  “He had a brother, Miguel, who helped out for a time,” she continued, “and this brother felt he was entitled to more than his share of the money. You know, greedy. Anyway, the floors in the entrance at the brothel were inlaid with gold coins. Gold was a common source of payment in those days, so the coins were plentiful, and for a brothel, this was a first class place. It’s rumored that Vincente and Miguel had a falling out. Supposedly Vincente waited until the early morning hours, when business had slowed and the place was quiet, and he removed all the coins and hid them somewhere. That doesn’t really have anything to do with the murder, but I thought you might be interested in the legend.”

  “I’ve heard that story before. Aunt Martha told me about it years ago.” A treasure? Pete and I were having financial problems, so… Nah, that idea was too farfetched.

  “Did she? Hmmm. Well, back to the murder. Your great-great-great-grandmother, Merced, insisted Vincente move out of their home because of his business. She was scandalized by it. My understanding is that she filed for divorce, but her religious beliefs kept her from following through with it. She also filed for a legal separation so he would have to support her. Not many women held jobs in those days.”

  “Things have sure changed,” I said.

  Mother nodded. “Anyway, he moved out and bought a house of his own, which he decorated to the nines, and he hired a nurse. She wasn’t really a nurse, you know.” Mother had a twinkle in her eye when she shared this information.

  “What was she?” I asked.

  “Well, let me put it this way. There was nothing wrong with his health at that time. Over the years he had several nurses whom he bedded and cast aside when he got tired of them or they became too demanding. A couple of them tried to sue him for Breach of Promise, saying he had promised marriage. Obviously, he couldn’t marry them because he was already married. He usually paid them off before things went too far.”

  “Sounds like a real sweetheart.”

  “Although he’s a relative, I have to admit that he wasn’t very nice. In fact, your great-grandfather told me Vincente was quite the scoundrel.”

  An understatement, if I ever heard one.

  “In 1897, Vincente returned home from the brothel one night to find the current so-called nurse lying on the floor of the kitchen, dead. She’d been strangled. Actually, she’d been stabbed and strangled.”

  Chapter Four

  1898

  Vincente couldn’t help wondering if the dead nurse might have been the one to change his life. She’d been different from the rest of them. She seemed less intent on what he could give her, or do for her. He felt she might have actually cared for him, unlike the one who’d replaced her and now shared his house. He believed that given the chance, he might have learned how to respond to her. He’d come close to feeling an emotion that was foreign to him.

  He paused for a moment, shaking his head, feeling the need to clear the cobwebs away. His thoughts had been a bit jumbled lately. He had to maintain control.

  2003

  “Ugh! Stabbed and strangled? Sounds like overkill to me.” I’d never heard any of this story before. It was quite a revelation.

  “Yes, well. Vincente summoned the officials, some of whom had been looking for something to hang on him anyway, and they immediately placed the blame on him. There was a huge outcry for his trial and conviction. The local citizens wanted to get rid of him because of his unseemly business, so they really pushed the authorities.”

  “So how did he get out of it?” I asked.

  “No evidence. They tried their hardest to make the charges stick, but she’d only been dead for a few hours, and he’d been seen around The Alley all evening. He was a very visible man. I’ve read old newspaper accounts that say people would practically grovel at his feet looking for him to bestow his favor on them.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Remember, he was politically influential and he was considered a very wealthy man. Just about everyone who was anyone knew him and tried to keep him happy.”

  “This is unbelievable. I knew some of the story, but I had no idea just how far things had gone. No one ever mentioned what a big shot he was.” I was amazed at the story which was unfolding, and I was surprised to hear that our family had been so involved in Los Angeles history, even if it had been more on the shady side of things. “How do you know all of this?”

  “Some of the information has been passed down through the family, some old letters were found many years ago, and I did some research on the family and found several newspaper articles. I’ve brought a lot of material with me which should help you.”

  “I guess you’ve done a lot. You’ve certainly saved me some work. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.” My mind was running at ninety miles an hour. “What am I saying? This is a hundred-year-old murder. Do you know how slim the chances are that I can solve it?”

  “You’ll do it, dear. I have every confidence in you.” My mother had deftly put me on the spot. “I never thought this could be cleared up, but then you became a private investigator.”

  “Good grief,” I mumbled.

  “I want to do some shopping while I’m here.” She paused, glancing shyly at me. My mother never acted shy. What was going on? “I’d like to change my personal style a bit now that I’ve met Frank. Maybe do a sort of make-over. New hairstyle, new clothes. You know what I mean.”

  Now it made sense. “Frank? That must be the new man you met?”

  “Yes, Frank.” The expression on her face could only be described as cute. I’d never seen that particular look on her face before. She smiled and glanced at me to see if I had any type of a reaction to her having a male friend.

  “Tell me about Frank. What’s he like?”

  “Oh, he’s wonderful. He’s tall and slender, and good-looking – and what a sense of humor. He keeps me laughing. That’s very important.” She was still smiling. “He’s intelligent, too.”

  “What kind of work does he do?”

  “He’s an investment counselor. That’s how I met him.” Mother had inherited some money a few years ago and had invested wisely. I guess that made up for what she had gone though when I was younger, at least to some extent. “If things go well, maybe he’ll come out here with me sometime. I’d like you to meet him.”

  “How long have you been seeing him?” My mind was beginning to fill with questions about this man who wanted to be a part of my mother’s life.

  “About a year,” she replied casually, glancing at her fingernails like they
held a secret.

  “Why didn’t you mention him before?” She wanted to know everything about my life, but apparently didn’t want to share hers.

  “I didn’t know if you’d be ready for me to be involved with a man. You’ve never seen me with anyone other than your father.”

  “Honestly, Mother, I couldn’t be happier for you. You should have started dating years ago.”

  We were nearing the off-ramp leading to my apartment, so I changed lanes.

  “Watch out for that car!” Mother croaked.

  “I didn’t come anywhere near him.” I sighed, quietly.

  “Just be careful, dear.”

  I pulled off the freeway and turned right, heading toward home. She could put her things away and we’d relax for a while before thinking about lunch. I frequently skipped lunch, but my mother was definitely a three-meal-a-day person. I wouldn’t mind, but she was such a slow eater that sometimes it felt like each meal ran into the next.

  Arriving at my apartment, I pulled into the driveway leading to the parking lot, glided into one of the slots and turned off the engine.

  My landlord was standing in front of his door watching me, arms folded across his chest. He never relaxed unless I was gone. He seemed to think I attracted trouble and he didn’t trust me because of it.

  “Have you ever thought about moving to a nicer apartment?” Mother asked, giving him her version of the evil eye.

  “I like this one,” I replied, sighing. “It suits my needs and it’s in a good location for me. Not too far from the office.”

  “Just thought I’d ask.”

  I opened the trunk and pulled out her luggage, once again cringing at the number of suitcases she’d brought with her. It was going to be a long few weeks. Maybe she’d decide she needed to get home to Frank. Yeah, that’s probably what would happen.

  While climbing the stairs, I could hear my phone ringing. I tried to hurry, but it stopped ringing about the time I opened the door. I could hear the answering machine greeting the caller. Then I heard Pete’s voice asking me to call him.