Land Sakes

by Margaret A. Graham

  “Miss Esmeralda?”

  “Who are you?” I demanded, my heart pounding.

  “Never mind. I won’t hurt you.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking this way and that. Cars were speeding past, but I didn’t see a single pedestrian—no use yelling. I was trapped; there was no way I could get free of him. Oh Lord, help me!

  “I’m a businessman,” he told me, “and I have your best interest at heart.” No way, I thought. Pinning me to the wall—he’s dangerous. He was right up in my face, I tell you, and the smell of garlic nearly knocked me over. “Miss Esmeralda, I understand you are a widow and no doubt hard up financially or you would not have taken this job as companion to Mrs. Winchester.”

  My head was spinning, my heart racing. How does he know—what’s back of this?

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said. “It will make it possible for you to retire and live on easy street the rest of your life. How does that sound to you?”

  Fishy, I thought, praying somebody would show up to help me, I kept him talking. “What do you want me to do?” I asked.

  Before he could answer, I saw Dora coming out the stage entrance. “Dora!” I yelled.

  She stopped and looked around but not in my direction. The man saw that and grinned. “You might as well save your breath, Esmeralda. That lady don’t give autographs.”

  I didn’t yell again; out the corner of my eye I could see Dora looking my way. Seeing me, she put her finger to her lips.

  The man bore down on me. “Now, Miss Esmeralda, all you have to do is keep in touch with us. We picked up the Winchester trail some miles back, and, of course, it isn’t hard to track a Rolls, but we need your help.”

  “What kind of help?” I asked to hold his attention.

  Dora was moving toward us in back of him.

  “It’s very simple,” he was saying just as Dora reached us and dropped down on hands and knees behind him. I saw my chance; I shoved him as hard as I could, knocking him over backwards. Dora jumped up and grabbed my hand, and we lit out running to get across the street.

  The light had changed, and the cars were stopped bumper to bumper. That man scrambled to his feet and was coming after us hot and heavy. Dora held on to me as we were climbing across one set of bumpers, but then our way was blocked by a cab with no passengers. I glanced back and saw the man was still coming. Dora yanked open the backseat door of the cab and pulled me in behind her. “Slam it!” she yelled. I reached back, grabbed the handle, and shut it, and she dragged me out the door on the other side.

  The light changed and all the cars were spurting ahead, but one driver saw the pickle we were in and waited for us to reach the curb. Running for our lives, we kept looking back. That creep was not in sight. I don’t know how or if we lost him. We kept running and didn’t stop until we came to a parking garage.

  As we got on the elevator, I was all out of breath and so weak my legs were about to give way. “My truck’s on third,” Dora said.

  “How’d you know it was me?” I managed to ask.

  “I thought it was you stood up when I come out on stage. I wasn’t sure, because it was dark in there, but after it was all over I went a-lookin’ for you but couldn’t find you nowhere.”

  The elevator stopped; the door rolled open. “Where’s your truck?”

  “Third row over.”

  Them indoor parking lots make my skin crawl; there’s all kinds of creeps lurking about waiting to waylay a body. Even that goon chasing us might somehow have got there ahead of us. As jumpy as I was, I kept looking every whichaway.

  Dora opened the door for me, and I climbed into the truck. It smelled brand new.

  She slid in on the other side but didn’t start the engine. “Where’re you stayin’, Miss E.?”

  I told her and explained why I was in Salt Lake City. She had heard from Albert that I had been asked to resign, but I was too nervous to talk about that. Dora asked me what the mugger said to me.

  “Oh, Dora, he wasn’t just a mugger. He knew who I was and all about me and her—Mrs. Winchester.”

  I told her everything that had happened—so nervous I kept repeating myself. She made no comment other than to say, “You watch out, Miss E. Man like that be bound to keep on a-comin’ a’ter you. You want a gun?” She reached over me to open the glove compartment. She took out a gun and laid it in her lap.

  “No, Dora. I don’t know nothing about guns. Chances are, before I could fire it, they’d grab it away from me.” Suddenly I remembered that Percival was supposed to pick me up. I looked at my watch. It was 11:30. Too late; he would not still be waiting for me.

  “Somebody gonna pick you up?”

  “Yes, but I’ve missed him.”

  “I’ll take you back to the hotel. Let’s go back over this thing.”

  So we talked through the whole story again, and I was remembering little details I had left out. By the time I had went through it the second time, I was beginning to calm down a little. Dora is strong, and it helped settle my nerves being with her, having her listen. I asked her to turn on the overhead light. “Let me look at you, Dora.” And in that pale light I saw a face that was far different from the careworn one she had brought to Priscilla Home. She looked ten years younger.

  I told her how proud we were of her and asked about the business she was in. She told me about her agent, how he got her gigs all over the country. “He likes to arrange flights for me, but I only fly when there’s not time to get there in my pickup.”

  Then she wanted to hear about Priscilla Home—and I was careful to put my resignation in the best light so she wouldn’t stop supporting the place. There was a lot to tell her about the women she had known at the home, and we took a trip down memory lane, remembering the happy times we had there. The time slipped up on me—it was 1:00 in the morning. “I better get back, Dora. If Mrs. Winchester ain’t dead to the world, she might be worried sick something’s happened to me.”

  “Well, something did happen, now, didn’t it?” she said. “Don’t you fret none, Miss E. The Lord’s a-lookin’ out fer you.” She got out the truck and looked all around the parking lot before she got back in. “I’m a-headin’ out tonight for New Orleans,” she told me. “Next week I’m a-gonna play in that Orpheum theater they got thar, and a’ter that I’m a-headin’ back home.”

  “You still live the same place?”

  “Same place.”

  We both got quiet then, hating that this visit was ending, that we would part as soon as we got back to the hotel.

  “We better pray,” I said, and we did—me first, then her.

  Dora turned the key in the ignition, revved up the motor, and backed the truck out.

  16

  I tried to slip into the suite without waking Mrs. Winchester, but she roused up anyway. “Esmeralda?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  She was wearing a patch over her bad eye, and her glass eye was probably in that little pouch on the bedside table. “Did you see your friend?” she asked.

  “Oh yes. That’s why I’m so late—we’ve been talking.”

  Mrs. Winchester got up to go to the bathroom, and I went in my room to put away my pocketbook. I knew I must tell her about that man, because whatever this devilment was, it was aimed at her. I didn’t look forward to telling her, because there was no telling how she would take it.

  When she came back to bed, I said, “Mrs. Winchester, something happened tonight you need to hear about.” I pulled up the chaise lounge, slipped off my shoes, and started telling her the story.

  She sat straight up in bed, wide awake and tuned in to every word. At first she acted silly, like it was just some kind of a lark, excitement, you know. I had to set her straight. “Mrs. Winchester, that man is not your run-of-the-mill mugger. He was not acting alone. Unless I miss my guess, that car he got out of was full of hoods just like him. They could easy be the mafia or a gang of them convicts the courts let loose from pens all over the country. He had to have connecti
ons; how else would he know my name and all?” I was hoping she would say we could call the cops, but she didn’t. “They been following us for who knows how long, and there’s no reason to think they won’t keep right on. In fact, it comes to me now that he said, ‘It ain’t hard to track a Rolls.’ They’re after us, and I tell you, they mean business.”

  “Do you think they’re after my jewelry?”

  “Could be. Or they may be out to kidnap you for ransom.”

  “They’d be wasting their time kidnapping me. Philip would never pay a ransom for me.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Winchester, you must be wrong about that. Would paying a ransom put so much as a dent in that pile of money he’s sitting on?”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t miss the money, but if I were killed he stands to gain a lot. Esmeralda, everything I own would go to him with no strings attached, and even more important than that, he would be free to marry that mistress of his. It’s a wonder he hasn’t hired a hit man to kill me before now.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I said to comfort her. Of course, I wasn’t sure it was out of the question that he would do such a thing. From what she had told me, I wouldn’t put anything past that man. “Don’t you think we should call the police?”

  “Yes. Call Percival. Ask him to come up here. We’ll have him call the police and the FBI.”

  I woke Percival out of a sound sleep. When I asked him to come to the suite, he mumbled, “Jump, frog, jump.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I’ll be there,” he said and hung up.

  I put down the phone and sat there for a few minutes. What if this is a plot by Philip Winchester to have her killed? Just the thought made me shiver.

  “Mrs. Winchester, maybe you need a bodyguard.”

  “No, Esmeralda. Ever since I was a child and had to put up with bodyguards, I promised myself I would never put up with another one as long as I lived. Desi and Lucy are all the bodyguards I need.” She started getting up.

  Mrs. Winchester had more confidence in those dogs than I did, but there was nothing I could say. I handed her the pouch, and she went in the bathroom to put in her eye.

  Percival was not long in getting to the suite. “Esmeralda, tell Percival what you told me,” Mrs. Winchester said.

  I did. The more I told him, the more fidgety he got. He wanted to know what the man looked like, was he a foreigner, did he have a gun—all the like of that. Land sakes, it had been dark. I couldn’t remember what the man looked like, except that he was big, nor if he had a gun—at least I didn’t see a gun.

  Percival was shaking in his boots. “What do you think we should do?”

  “Call the police—the FBI,” I said.

  Mrs. Winchester laughed. “I can’t wait to see this in the papers!”

  Percival protested. “Oh no, we can’t do that!”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I have my orders.”

  “Orders? What kind of orders?”

  He ignored me and spoke to Mrs. Winchester. “Madam, I suggest that you call the company for a jet to take you back to Newport or to Florida.”

  “Percival, I don’t fly!”

  “But, madam, this is an emergency.”

  “I’m going on this cruise to Alaska, and that’s that!”

  “Then fly to Vancouver.”

  “Must I repeat? I do not fly.”

  I was surprised to see Percival roll his eyes and throw up his hands; he was at his wit’s end.

  “Now wait, Percival,” I said. “There must be a way we can throw these people off our track.”

  All out of sorts, he rubbed his forehead, trying to think of something. “Well, there is Sun Valley north of here. The Winchusters have a lodge there.”

  “Did you hear that, Mrs. Winchester? Could we go to your lodge in Sun Valley?”

  “Is that what you want to do? I could call my secretary, and she could have the Sun Valley staff get things ready… Percival, how long would it take us to get there?”

  “Eight hours or more. And, madam, we should leave right away.”

  She hesitated, giving the idea a second thought. “Esmeralda, I don’t want to put you in danger. If these people are following us, I guess we should try to throw them off the track.”

  “Yes, we should, if we can.”

  She picked up the phone, dialed a couple numbers, and no doubt got somebody out of bed to answer. “Connie,” she said, “I have had a change in plans. Is anyone staying at the Sun Valley lodge?… Good. Call ahead and tell the staff I am coming. There will be three in my party. But Connie, they are not to tell anyone, anyone, do you hear? No one is to know that we are coming. If we do not arrive by dinnertime, tell them to notify the police. And Connie, whatever you do, you must not tell anyone there in Newport or down in Florida—not anyone—that we will be at the lodge.”

  I was surprised that Mrs. Winchester could be so all together, especially that early in the morning.

  Next, she turned to Percival. “When you go for the dogs, make sure you do not reveal anything about our departure. Bring the Rolls around, and we’ll have our luggage curbside. If we can, we’ll avoid a bellman.”

  Percival understood, put his cap back on, and left.

  Mrs. Winchester went to her room to dress, and I gave her the amber necklace before I secured the apron and put it on. I packed my clothes and then went in Mrs. Winchester’s room to pack her things.

  “The lodge is Philip’s party place during ski and hunting seasons,” she told me. “He keeps his animal trophies there, and I daresay many more trophies of another kind were made there.”

  If that was a joke she would be giggling; she wasn’t even smiling. I didn’t know what to say so I just kept on working.

  “I’m only a bird in a gilded cage, Esmeralda.”

  “Don’t have to be.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  After I finished packing her things, I got out the map Percival had marked for me and tried to find Sun Valley. According to the map, the interstate would take us to Twin Falls and a state road that led north to Sun Valley. The lodge was out of the way for us; I only hoped it was far enough out of the way to escape the lowlifes chasing us.

  Mrs. Winchester wanted to look at the map. “Ketchum is not far from Sun Valley. That’s where Ernest Hemingway shot himself. Perhaps we can go there one day.”

  I couldn’t believe that at a time like this she’d be thinking about dead people. I folded the map and stuffed it in my pocketbook. “I take it we’re going to carry down the bags?”

  She nodded. “There’s a luggage cart in the hallway. Here, I’ll help.”

  She wasn’t much help, but we got my two and her ten bags on the elevator and down to the lobby without being seen. The desk clerk was reading a newspaper, and when she looked up, Mrs. Winchester told her, “Miss, we are checking out now, but you are not to record the time of our departure or anything about our leaving. Do you understand?”

  The mystified clerk nodded. “I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Winchuster.”

  We had to wait for the car. It was beginning to rain, and fog was rising from the dampness of the ground. It felt creepy standing around waiting, glancing about to make sure nobody saw us. In a few minutes, the Rolls whipped in the drive and stopped before us. A nervous Nozzle Nose apologized. “There was some delay in checking out Desi and Lucy.” The Afghans were perched in their places, ready to ride.

  We drove out of Salt Lake at 3:00 in the morning. Percival kept looking in his side-view mirror. Once satisfied that no one was following us, he stepped on the gas. I breathed a sigh of relief. We were in for a very long day, but so far, so good.

  17

  The rain never let up—broad sheets of it swept over us, keeping so much water on the windshield the wipers could not handle it. Made me nervous hearing the tires swishing on the wet pavement and Percival not letting up on the gas.

  As I thought back over all that had happened, I got to wondering if maybe Percival
was in on whatever this was—this devilment. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but later it seemed funny that he didn’t want to call the police. And what did he mean when he said he had orders? If he was in on this, what better place to take us than to a lodge out in the woods where there’s no police nearby or anything else to keep thugs from robbing us or holding us hostage or who knows what. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I sat there debating whether or not to tell Mrs. Winchester what I was thinking.

  Before daybreak, we stopped for breakfast. We had just come off the interstate, and Percival drove the car onto a back road and stopped. There were woods all around, and I got thinking this might be the very place where we’d get jumped. Percival got out, pulled up the collar to his slicker, and headed back toward the restaurant for takeout. I was getting nervous.

  With the rain battering down, I couldn’t see for sure if Percival was going to the restaurant or if there was another car parked back there. I couldn’t keep my suspicions to myself any longer. “Mrs. Winchester, you don’t think Percival is involved in this, do you?”

  “Percival? Heavens, no. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “He can’t afford to get caught doing anything illegal.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Trust me. Percival can’t afford to get arrested. That’s the main reason he had us leave Chicago. He was afraid that dog owner would arrest him as well as sue me.”

  Well, I was not so sure, and if he made it back to the car without anything happening to us, I made up my mind I would get to the bottom of this.

  By the time Percival returned with our ham and eggs, coffee and toast, he was a pathetic sight. After taking off his slicker, he threw it in the trunk, ran around the car, and hopped in the front seat. Even so, his uniform got very wet. Before starting the car, he got busy trying to dry himself off with a towel.