by Roach Spell
Minutes later, the police walked out with the mother; she was bleeding, her hands cuffed behind her back while she screamed bad words at the police while trying to bite them. Spencer had not expected this outcome and he really felt shocked by the evil that some people carry in their hearts. What a sick mother, he thought.
The children heard and recognized about what was going on. Their father sat with them and prayed; their entire lives changed in an instant, and they really needed their God now. In need of help in healing and building a new, safe future. Spencer offered them another room and told them they could stay for as long as they wanted, but the next day the father took his four children and left for Oregon. Mr. Anderson thanked Spencer and praised him for uncovering the bitter truth. Eventually, Mr. Anderson had to go to court, and Spencer read in the news, months later, that he got convicted of covering up some facts as well, as he was too cowardly to stand up to his evil wife. Spencer could not understand it, and he felt sick to his stomach about the entire ordeal.
18
“Coffee?” It was raining again, and Spencer was up since the early morning. He was trying to prevent flooding into his office.
Handing Miller a cup of coffee, he said, “Damn water is rising, and you know who’s using our parking lot today to hold a discourse?”
Outside, everybody was busy building a stage, unloading chairs from a truck, and putting up flags.
“Ronald Reagan and his wife Nancy will be here in Dana Point, and they chose our parking lot for their speech,” said Spencer, jumping up and down like a young boy. “Can you believe it? I am so excited. I’m sure I’ll get a chance to shake their hands, especially since I am the manager of this place.”
Miller was not a Republican, but he did not think Reagan was too bad. At least he had Hollywood style and Gloria once had a part in one of his more or less successful movies.
“How was your night, Detective?” asked Spencer.
“Did you sleep well? I hope the bed in that room is still okay. Some of our beds are rather old and need replacement, since the springs do not bring much comfort anymore. By the way, how is your investigation coming along?”
Miller was peering at his tiny notebook, which he always carried in his coat. Sometimes he even drew sketches with a simple pencil. It helped him investigate his cases. “Spencer, the night you spent with Miss Rose, she mentioned the necklace. Again, we must assume that there was something inside that necklace, something leading to that gold treasure as you too mentioned. I do believe that this was the reason she was killed, and that the person who took the necklace is the culprit.” Miller took a sip of coffee and continued. “If that treasure is here, then we only have to wait for our main suspect’s next move, which might happen very soon. I will talk to your staff, one by one. In fact, I’ll go up to Bertha right now and start with her.”
After he thanked Spencer, Miller placed his coffee cup on the reception desk and walked away. Spencer left to prepare for the afternoon event with the Reagans.
“Bertha, can I call you that?”
Miller entered Bertha’s office, where he found the motel accountant working at her desk, shuffling numbers and figures. Bertha was checking whether the motel, restaurant, and other places Terry owned were turning a profit. “Can you recall the night of Miss Rose’s murder?” asked Miller.
“The time of her death was definitely after you usually leave the office; when do you return home for the evening usually?’’
Miller picked up one of Bertha’s business cards, placed on her desk. Bertha very focused on her calculations, so she hardly paid any attention to the detective.
“Sorry, could you repeat your question?” she asked. “I wasn't finished with some figures.”
Miller repeating, and then Bertha stood up. Although she was very heavy, she was quite elegant. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pointed to Miller, asking him if he wanted a cup. He kindly rejected her offer.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I just had mine.” Bertha, sipping, said; “I left around or before nine that evening, and the only person I saw was Spencer going up to the second floor, maybe even up to Miss Rose’s room. He was holding a bottle of something and seemed a bit nervous, but he always seems a little tense. That must be in his nature.”
“Yes, we know,” said Miller. “He did go to Miss Rose, as she invited him to her room that night. And yes, I agree with you –it does seem like, he’s always under pressure.” Miller smiled and placed his cigar between his lips, in and blissfully.
“Did you see anything else that night?” he continued. “Was there anything unusual that caught your attention?” “No, not really,” replied Bertha.
Then she hesitated. “But wait, there was one thing. Terry came over the day before and was in a very happy mood, which was unusual. He is usually is very negative. That's just in his nature.” Giggling Bertha continued. “Anyhow, he came in and said that Miss Rose has told him a very nice story about a treasure hidden on the grounds of the Villa Motel.
It dated back to 1935, when she was a server here, serving many wealthy people. Among them, a man named Doheny; he was very rich during the petroleum boom. He later lost everything, as he was involved in a bribery scandal. He and some other fellows hid gold coins and Jewels, transported from San Francisco to San Diego on a similar ship to the Pilgrim. For some reason, offloaded here in Dana Point and buried on the Villa grounds. The fortune was a trade deal among oil barons; they found lots of oil in Veracruz, Mexico. Therefore, this whole story got me very interested, I bought ‘Upton Sinclair’ novel Oil. I have a copy of the book right here. Honestly, I was just searching for clues, but nothing adds up. They called it the Teapot Dome scandal, and Doheny was surely involved. This led me to believe that the treasure was part of the bribery, hidden, so that it would be safe to dig it out after the scandal. It was a Gold Rush treasure, buried so that Doheny or any of the others could go back and live the California Dream.” With small, focused eyes, Miller pressed all ten fingers to his mouth in between of the gently glowing cigar. He exhaled it slowly and said, “I am very impressed, Miss Bertha. This story is fascinating, and I am grateful that you have done so much research. Can I borrow this book and read it while I stay here at the motel during my investigation?”
“Sure, Detective,” said Bertha. “Be my guest.” She was a smart cookie.
“Do you intend to find this treasure?” asked Miller. “Or does your boss, Terry want to do?”
“Of course we consider it,” she said. “If it’s really on our property, then surely we can look out for the treasure, as we intend to renovate the place. As you can tell, it is stubbornly falling apart. Earthquakes, water and age are affecting the foundation.”
Miller turned to the door. “Thank you, Miss Bertha. This has helped a great deal. I must assume that others knew about the treasure before Miss Rose died. You did, and your boss. I think we will have some very interesting developments soon.” Miller walked out the door. Before he shut it, he turned around and glanced at her once more. “Will you be greeting our ex-president and his wife out in the parking lot this afternoon?” he asked, not expecting an answer, closing the door softly behind him.
19
Mary and Stan, the two permanent motel residents, were sitting on the bench outside the reception, smoking cigarettes as if they had found the last ones on earth.
Jim was hanging some red, white, and blue ribbons around the front entrance.
Esperanza made herself busy dusting the desk bell and talking to Spencer.
“It’s so wonderful that we have the president and his senorita Nancy here,” she said. “In one hour they will arrive.” Spencer looked outside. There was a lot of security out in the parking lot. Several secret service agents had already gotten comfortable on the motel premises, they were seated in chairs and sipping coffee on the upper deck. Every corner of the building looked like the Alamo, and there was even a sniper on the roof, for the protection of Ronald and Nancy.
Miller came in and said to Spencer, “How long will this event be going on? I cannot go to my room and read this book with all the commotion outside.”
“Ha ha, yes, that’s right,” said Spencer. “No one is allowed in any of the rooms, and the secret service has already evacuated all the guests, including our friend Scarface, who just walked by a minute ago, going toward the harbor. I guess now is a good time for him to sell some more drugs. No one will pay any attention to him with the Reagans here.” Miller looked at Spencer, thinking carefully. Then he turned to Esperanza, asking; “Senora, did you talk to Miss Rose before she died?” Esperanza was quick, and she made herself a rosary cross sign hurriedly. “En el nombre del Padre y del Hijo y del Espiritu Santo, amen,” she said. When she finished, she folded her hands and said even quicker, “No el detectivo, seguro que no.”
She was nervous and dropped her dusting cloth. That was how Spencer could tell, that she was lying. He was surprised about that, but then he figured that Esperanza was Catholic, so she was allowed to lie, as long as she prayed to the Father in heaven in loop mode, everything would be forgiven.
Miller approached Jim. “Did you have a chance to talk to Miss Rose before she died?” Jim was on the ladder, still decorating the motel with ribbon. “Yes, sir. I did. She called me to her room when the toilet plugged, and I went up there with a plunger so I could fix it. She offered me some tea and asked me for a cigarette. Unfortunately, I do not smoke anymore. She was somewhat uneasy about that, and then she asked me if I knew about the treasure hidden at the Villa here. I did not take her seriously and laughed kindly at her. She insisted that she knew, where the secret place is, with a treasure concealed. Again, I am an old Texan and do not believe in all those spooks anymore. So I simply done my work fixed the toilet and left.” Mary, listening from the bench, gave the impression of someone in urge of, looking for a washing room.Miller said, “You are from Texas. Why did you move to California? And why do you carry a gun all the time?” Miller could see his gun, which he kept on a cowboy holster under his oversized country shirt. “Sir, you better put it away by the office desk,” said Miller. “Put it away before the secret service sees it. They are a bit sensitive about that kind of thing, with the former president visiting the Villa parking lot.”
Spencer found himself amused by Miller’s words.
He had clearly made a joke about the fact that the former American President was visiting the Villa parking lot. It was in fact somewhat hilarious, the whole arrangement, but the parking lot offered the most open space in the area. Finally, Jim responded to Miller. “I came to California because I was in love with another man.” Everybody looked up. “The man I loved smoked five packs of cigarettes a day,” continued Jim. “He died because of his role as Genghis Khan, and he was one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood. That's all I have to say on the subject, Sir.”
Miller knew the man Jim was talking of. Spencer, on the other hand, could not believe about that coming out. Jim – with his big shoulders, mustache, and manly appearance – in love with another man. Now he understood why Jim was so friendly, almost motherly, and why it was so easy to convince him to drop by his apartment for a beer or a live football game on TV. Miller was not paying attention to Jim anymore, though, as his interest had suddenly shifted back to Esperanza. She was pretending to clean the doorframe.
Miller turned to her and said, “That is a very nice necklace you are wearing, miss.” Spencer wanted to see it as well. He took a step forward and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That is Bernadette Rose’s necklace!” Spencer yelled.
Mary and Stan, who were still sitting on the bench, almost swallowed their cigarettes.
Esperanza sank instantly to her knees. “Oh dios, I found it next to her on the floor,” she confessed. “I found it after she was dead. I thought I would take it with me, as it was lying out in the open. See? It opens too, but nothing is inside. I forgot all about it, as I was in shock about seeing a dead person. Moreover, Mr. Spencer ran off so quickly to call you. Por favor, believe me.” The necklace was definitely evidence, so Esperanza had to hand it over to Detective Miller. Everybody looked at her. Terry, who had just come around the corner with his little dog. He overheard everything. Detective Miller turned to him, holding the necklace. “You know about the gold,” he said to Terry. “Your accountant gave me all the details. Will you search for it?” Hesitating, Terry said, “I’ll consider it, but I can’t dig up the whole place, can I?” Music started playing. The parking lot, packed with event hungry people. Spencer stepped outside and told Mary and Stan to give them some space, and to stop smoking. He made them move from the bench over to the front porch of the reception. Soon it became too noisy for Miller to ask any further questions.
20
The entire intersection of the Pacific Coast Highway closed off, and thousands of onlookers stood by the side of the road waving little flags. Five limousines and dozens of police officers on motorcycles were guarding the Reagans. Bodyguards formed a sort of wall around their car. Only then did the Reagans exit the black limo. The President’s smile and mannerisms were perfect for Hollywood. He and his wife approached the stage, built at the end of the lot, right beside Terry’s home. The mayor was presenting a big symbolic key to them. “We are very honored and proud to have you here in Dana Point.” Loud cheering came from all the folks in the crowd. Reagan spoke in a clear, charming voice. “It’s morning again in America,” he said. Thunderous applause ensued.
Reagan talked about the Republicans’ success, and all their economic achievements. Spencer, who knew a bit about American politics, was not surprised that the Republicans had voted now for Bush. However, Reagan did not mention the riots in L.A. and the economic downturn; he did not talk about the killing disease HIV or the increase of school shootings and gun incidents. The fact of the matter was that the Republicans would be defeated in just a matter of months, after only four years of Bush Senior. Clinton would take over, winning with a simple slogan: It is the economy, stupid.
It started to rain very lightly, and the sky above the Southern California town darkened a bit. Despite all the noise, including the booming sound of Reagan’s microphone-powered voice, Spencer managed to catch Miller’s eye.
Miller was watching the scene from the front porch of the reception, which was a few feet above the ground. From there they could actually overlook the scene. Miller was staring at something in the distance, something that was approaching the motel.
It was a huge Ford F mounted with bigger wheels than the original, and it was spinning furiously out of control. It came flying down the Pacific Coast Highway, the PCH.
Like a raging bull, it hit a gas station, ripping the filling device from its ground. Fuel began to leak into the road. People in the distance started to run for safety, clearing the road in masses. Still driving somehow, the vehicle headed right toward the Villa Motel.
Miller ran back to the reception and down the short hallway. He opened the side door and pushed a secret service person out of the way.
“Get the President and his wife!” he yelled at the bodyguard, pointing at the monster truck flying in from the corners intersection.
Up on stage, the Reagans identified the severity of the situation. Secret service agents immediately guided the President over to Spencer’s living room.
Meanwhile, the Ford came banging into the lot. Several people ran over by its big wheels, rolling hard into the stage, where the vehicle finally came to a stop. In fact, it moved the entire construction by several feet.
It was total panic and chaos.
The secret service guards pulled their loaded guns and approached the Ford, which practically lifted up, from off the ground. The front wheels were up on the demolished stage, the vehicle itself leaning slightly to the side.
They opened the driver’s side door and found a drunk man, with a bleeding head and nothing else.
On the evening news, the man identified as a local carpenter, who drank too many beer
s after a job assignment has canceled. There was no motive, and this was certainly no political statement or act of terrorism. There was simply too much alcohol involved, all over a lost job. It is the economy, stupid.
Nancy and Ronald were sitting down in Spencer’s living room. Miller and two secret service agents were there as well, along with Spencer, who handed the Reagans two glasses of fresh water. They seated pleasantly, like grandparents, and Spencer completely enjoyed the moment, which felt like a hologram projection because it was so unreal. Miller and the guards cleared the area, making sure it was safe. Esperanza and Jim had to wait behind the hallway door at the reception.
“What a day,” Spencer said to Ronald and Nancy. When they did not reply, he added, “You are secure here.” Spencer wanted to keep the conversation going. Finally, Ronald said, “This reminds me of 1981, when I got shot by a fellow named John Hinckley. All he wanted was to impress the actress Jodie Foster; do you remember that, dear Nancy?” She put her hand in his, and they smiled at each other in mild harmony. ‘What a nice couple, and what a deserved American President he had been, but I am not an expert in politic’ Spencer thought.
Ronald continued, “I was only sixty-nine days into my presidency back then, and hell, what in God’s name was going on? What could I have possibly done wrong in such a short time to make some crazy man want to shoot me?”
Everybody smiled, and Spencer said euphorically, “And you continued to serve as President for the next eight years. You were very brave and successful.”
