by Marja McGraw
“I’ll miss you though,” I said, peering up from under my lashes.
He smiled. “I’ll miss you, too.”
“Okay,” I said, pushing my plate away. “You go pack for your trip and I’ll finish up a few things here and go home. I’m tired.”
“You should be.” He was standing on the other side of my desk, looking down at me. “Come here.”
I stood up, brushing crumbs off my shirt. He walked around the desk and took hold of my hands. “I said, come here.”
He pulled me to him and we held each other. Pete gives the best hugs, warm and tender. I hugged back, feeling the need to connect with him.
“Let’s just stay like this,” he suggested, holding me tighter. “I can pack in the morning.”
I looked into his eyes and thought he winked at me, but I wasn’t altogether sure. My eyes seemed to be watering. I certainly wasn’t crying.
Chapter Thirty-one
1897 (One year earlier)
Merced watched her husband drive the buggy away, glad the children were no longer living at home. She didn’t want them anywhere near him. Children? She had to quit thinking of them as youngsters. They were grown. And they knew what had happened. They had to live in this town and deal with the rumors and accusing glances too.
Vincente had always been such a hard man. Merced had trouble recalling anything endearing about the man, as hard as she tried. She sighed heavily and closed the door.
2003
Pete and I were up early and he came to my apartment where we ate breakfast together. He read the newspaper while I cooked, and we were quiet. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but companionable.
“Time for you to leave,” I said after we’d finished eating. “But come back soon. I’m going to miss you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I don’t need to get away anymore. I’m feeling pretty content right here and right now.”
“Yeah, until the police want to ask you more questions.” Nothing like dropping reality into the mix.
“Uh huh. They’re putting it all together right now, and then we’ll see how the pieces fit. Rick knows where I’m going, so they can reach me if they need to. I guess the next move is to turn the whole thing over to the D.A. and see what he says, and I’ll have my cell phone with me, too, in case you need anything.”
“I won’t. Now go.”
Pete grinned, which is exactly what I was hoping for. “Sure you will.”
“I was only joking,” I said. “You need to get a move on, and so do I. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
I was surprised that the authorities were letting Pete leave town. I guess it helps to know the right people.
Pete left, and I cleaned up the kitchen and myself then drove to the office. It didn’t matter that it was Sunday in my business. He stopped by before leaving town, once again assuring me he wouldn’t be gone long and reminding me to call him if I needed anything. He thought maybe he’d get a little fishing in while he was at the cabin. I told him not to bring any back with him.
“I’m not cleaning them, storing them, or eating them.” I’m not a fish fan.
“Wimp.”
“If I want fish, I’ll order fish and chips at the diner.”
“Yeah,” he said.
I smiled.
He left and I turned on the computer, still smiling to myself. It was up and running in nothing flat. I’d just started to read more about old Los Angeles when the phone rang.
“Webster & Goldberg,” I said automatically, reading while I spoke.
“Sandi? It’s Mom.”
“Oh, hi, Mom. How’s your trip going? Having fun?”
“You can count on it.” There was a certain lilt in her voice. A new sound. I turned from the screen, suddenly more alert.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Funny you should ask. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes.” I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“Frank and I were married last night.”
“You were what?”
“Frank and I were married last night, and right now we’re on our honeymoon.”
“Oh, Mom, I’m so happy for you. Give me some details. Where’s Frank right now? When are you two coming back? Oh, Mom, this is wonderful. I can’t wait to tell Pete.”
“Slow down, Sandi. Frank is right here and grinning from ear to ear. We were in the middle of dinner last night and Frank said, ‘Why don’t we get married while we’re here?’ and I said, ‘Good idea’. So we did. We found a Justice of the Peace and did the deed.”
Did the deed? Good grief. I was thrilled for her, but I didn’t want her to give me too much information. No, she meant the deed of getting married. Yeah, that was it. Whew.
“Have you called Aunt Martha yet? What did she say?”
“I’m calling her next. I thought I should tell you first, sweetie.”
“Oh boy, I wonder how Aunt Martha will take the news. You know she’s had you at her beck and call for so many years.”
“Sandra. I’m not at anyone’s beck and call.” Mother’s voice sounded tight. I was stepping on her toes again.
“Sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. She’s just so used to having you around. It’s going to take some getting used to for her not to count on you.”
“There’s more,” Mother said.
“More?”
“Frank and I have decided to move to – ”
“Where?” Now my voice sounded tight. Were they moving to L.A.? I felt my stomach do a somersault.
“Will you settle down? Frank and I have decided to move to Bullhead City, Arizona. It’s right across the river from Laughlin, Nevada. I told you that, remember?”
“What river?”
“The Colorado River separates Nevada and Arizona. We’re going to live on the Arizona side.”
“This is kind of a sudden decision, isn’t it?”
“Yes, dear, but we’re both tired of the cold weather in Chicago, among other things. We’ve decided we want to live where it’s warm all year long. It gets pretty hot here from what we’ve heard, but it was love at first sight and I can take the heat. It’s desert, you know.”
“Mother, we’ll talk about this more when you two drive back to L.A. When are you returning?”
“We’ll be back in a couple of days.” She snapped at me. Was I pushing her? I didn’t think I was, but…
“Are you having a hot flash? Or a mood swing?”
“Sandra.” Her tone of voice answered my question. “I’ll call back later. Right now Frank and I are going to look at some homes that are for sale in the area.”
“Okay,” I said meekly. Not a good time to push the issue. She’d call back when she was feeling better. I decided it would also be a good idea to wait and tell her about Pete later. She didn’t need to know about his problems while in the throes of a honeymoon and a mood swing. Her doctor’s appointment was coming up in a few days. Help was on the way.
“Let me talk to Frank for a second.”
I heard some shuffling noises as she handed Frank the phone.
“Hi, Sandi.” He sounded so cheerful.
“I wanted to tell you to be sure to look for a house with a few hibiscus bushes planted in the yard. You know, for swinging at.”
He laughed heartily and I could hear my mother in the background.
“What did she say?”
He turned from the phone. “Nothing of importance, honey.”
“We’ll see you in a few days,” he said, turning back to me. “And I’ll keep my eyes open.”
We hung up and I realized I was still smiling. It was nice to hear some good news. It was turning into a great day. Of course, Laughlin and Bullhead City were only about a five-hour drive away. That was awfully close to my home. I kept smiling anyway. I could live with five hours; it wasn’t like she’d be dropping in every day.
I turned back to the computer and read a bit, but changed my mind and decided to start going through the old newspaper clippi
ngs. I’d noticed there were several having to do with Vincente.
Picking one up at random, I read about some church women going to the crib district for their first real “conception of the extent of the vile traffic”. The women followed up by driving through in “a closed carriage, so that any girl with a mind to give up the evil life might be at once accompanied to the carriage and taken to one of the rescue homes until further provision could be made for her.” This appeared in the Los Angeles Daily Times. I checked the date and noticed it was from December 3, 1903. I was looking for earlier articles, hopefully something pertaining to the murder. I set it aside.
I picked up another one. Also from the Los Angeles Daily Times, the headline read, “Earnest Army of Reformers Bombards the Citadels of Hell”. My goodness. Ah, it was also 1903. That must have been about the time when the reformers really started pushing to get the District closed down, but it still wasn’t what I wanted.
The next one was pay dirt. A woman by the name of Florence Overhalt had sued Vincente for Breach of Promise, claiming that he had promised to marry her but he later reneged on the agreement. Turns out he was still married to Merced.
She claimed to have moved in with him to nurse him, then fell in love with him as his health returned. She said that he had introduced her to at least twenty-five people as the woman he intended to marry. She further claimed that she had no prior knowledge of Vincente’s association with the crib district, and that she had thought he was an “honorable and honest” man.
Vincente, of course, denied all of her allegations. And according to family stories, he’d had been the picture of health. Nurse, my foot.
I sucked in my breath in surprise when I saw that she filed this suit even while she was still living under Vincente’s roof. Of all the nerve.
The date on the newspaper was approximately one year after the death of Jessica. Vincente hadn’t wasted any time in bringing in a new woman, but then I already knew that because of one of Merced’s letters. Glad I wasn’t a chip off that old block.
I tapped my pencil on the desktop, thinking. Ah, Florence was the woman’s name that I’d added to my list of suspects. I knew the name sounded familiar.
I set the article aside and picked up the next one. Talk about sucking breath, Florence’s lawsuit never came to fruition. She committed suicide before the suit went any further. Maybe he really had made those promises. Maybe she really did feel like a scorned woman. Maybe not. I shook my head in frustration.
How on earth was I going to solve a hundred-year-old murder? I thought of Miguel, the brother who wanted Vincente’s treasure. Obviously, the brothers didn’t get along. I considered Dr. Drake, who acted odd when he visited Merced. Something about that struck a chord, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the tone of Merced’s letter. She sounded suspicious about his behavior.
Of course, there was Merced, the scorned wife, and there was Florence, the jilted lover who’d taken Jessica’s place. Sounded to me like any one of them might have a reason for wanting Jessica dead. Except Dr. Drake. I couldn’t figure that one out, but decided to leave his name on the list until I did more research. And the more I thought about Florence, it seemed more likely she might want Vincente dead, rather than Jessica.
I stood up and stretched, and poured myself a cup of coffee, hoping it might clear away the cobwebs building in my brain. Too much sitting, too much reading, too many unanswered questions.
Glancing out the front window, I saw a familiar white car parked across the street. I opened the desk drawer with the intention of pulling out my backpack to retrieve my car keys. I closed the drawer and sat back down. Ham and his pal were only watching. And waiting. For what?
I decided to wait until the opportunity presented itself to find those answers. Let Ham’s pal spend all the time he wanted watching me. I knew he was there, and he didn’t know I realized he was watching me.
Ham always ran when I tried to follow him. Neither of them ever approached me, although there was Ham’s visit to my office. But my gut told me they weren’t looking for a confrontation, at least not yet. I knew more about Ham now, and I felt I still had the upper hand.
Silly me.
Chapter Thirty-two
1897 (One year earlier)
The hearing only lasted one morning because there wasn’t any hard evidence against the old man. The Prosecuting Attorney attempted to flex his muscles, but Vincente knew how to do that too – he wasn’t rattled. Besides, he knew where the attorney’s soft spots were, and the lawyer wouldn’t want those exposed. The spectators left the courtroom in a state of disappointment, shaking their heads. They’d walked in expecting a fireworks display, but left having seen only a sparkler.
Although Vincente left the courthouse a free man, he didn’t feel in the least bit vindicated. He saw the looks and heard the comments, but he’d never let these small-minded people know if they upset him or not. He wouldn’t feel liberated until the whole matter was settled, which meant continuing his search for the killer.
He’d noticed Dr. Drake sitting in the back row of the room, leaning forward in his chair and watching the proceedings with an unexpected intensity, the look changing to disappointment when Vincente was not held. Had the doctor really come to hate him that much? And why? Dr. Drake had to testify about Jessica’s death since he’d been the attending physician, but there was something more that Vincente couldn’t put his finger on.
Florence put in an appearance, too. She had too much to lose if he went to jail. She’d been trying to take Jessica’s place for months, and Vincente was considering the arrangement with her. She knew that and clung to the possibility.
He wasn’t the least bit surprised that neither Merced nor his brother, Miguel, had been present. However, he’d actually hoped to see Merced. Her presence might have made him look innocent to the townspeople. He knew he was expecting too much from a woman who detested him and he pushed the thought aside. Stupid woman, he thought.
2003
I returned to my work eagerly, wanting more than ever to find more information to take my mind off Ham and his sorry sidekick.
I picked up one more photocopied newspaper article. The headline caught my eye and my mouth dropped open. “Stories of Chavez’ Hidden Treasure Resurface,” it read. A date of 1941 had been hand-written in the corner, but the top of the page didn’t show so I had no idea what newspaper it had appeared in.
Today found treasure hunters searching the Hollywood Hills for the Don Vincente Chavez treasure of old.
It was interesting that the paper referred to him as “Don” Vincente Chavez, “Don” being a Spanish title of respect. I read on.
For years, legends of a treasure hidden by Chavez have circulated among the adventurous. After his death, family members obtained permission and searched the ruins of the old crib district, apparently wasting their time and efforts, and finding nothing. Today this reporter observed a 15-foot tunnel carved into the hills where modern-day hunters have renewed efforts to find the treasure.
I knew of the legend, of course, but I had no idea that anyone other than family had actually searched for it. This was news to me.
hic
I jumped. Jerking my head up, I found Stanley standing in front of my desk. My heart pounded as I realized Ham’s friend could have sneaked up on me. I wouldn’t let this happen again; I’d be on my guard.
hic
“Stanley, you scared me,” I scolded. “I didn’t hear you come in.” I patted my chest, hoping my heart would slow down.
“You were so involved in what you’re reading that I didn’t want to – ”
hic
“ – disturb you,” he said, apologetically.
hic
“Hiccups?” I asked. Now there was a real bright question.
hic
He nodded.
“Get yourself a drink of water out of the faucet in the bathroom.”
“Yes, good idea.”
hic
He lef
t my desk and disappeared into the bathroom with a coffee mug in hand, returning quickly. He sat down on the chair at Pete’s desk.
“Feel better?” I asked.
hic
“Sorry. I’m sure they’ll go away in a few minutes.”
“I certainly hope so.”
hic
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing. I decided I’d come over and see if – ”
hic
“ – I could be of any further assistance.”
“Actually, I do need some help, but I’m not sure where to start.”
hic
“What are you reading?”
hic
“You appeared to be quite engrossed in it.”
“I found an article about the hidden treasure I mentioned to you. Apparently it was more than just a family legend. As late as the 1940’s people were out digging for it.”
“Really?”
hic
“So it may actually exist.” Stanley stopped and sucked in his breath, holding it for as long as he could. I found myself holding my breath right along with him. We both exhaled.
hic
Oh, for crying out loud. “Stanley, watch out!” I yelled, pointing toward the window. Maybe I could scare the hiccups out of him.
hic
Or not.
“I apologize, Sandi, but I can’t help myself. My blessed mother – ”
hic
“ – used to give me a teaspoon of sugar to make them go away.”
“She did? What a great idea. Just a second.” I liked the idea of something so sweet and simple curing the hiccups. I retrieved a sugar packet from near the coffee pot and handed it to him.
He opened the little packet and dumped the contents into his mouth, smiling.
I waited.
hic
“It never worked when I was a tyke either, but she always gave me – ”
hic
“ – the sugar anyway.”
I gave up. “They’ll go away on their own, Stanley. Let me finish reading the article and we’ll put our heads together and see what we can come up with, okay?”
