It was the same old story of a metropolis—a busy, port city dealing with days and nights of complete mayhem. Perhaps the numero uno problem was knife stabbings from heavy drinking; second, jealous husbands beating and killing their wives. The rest were gun wounds, burglaries, rape, and other violent assaults, but with so many foreigners coming from elsewhere to the port city, these were becoming more widespread.
The three men were introduced to Pablo Rubio, first pictured in the Tampico Headlines as the head of intelligence, a forty-year-old man with shiny, dark hair combed back and who displayed a bushy, walrus mustache from ear to ear, and flashing dark eyes that were never still. He was extremely polite, astute, and a prudent man of medium height, wearing a white Panama shirt. It surprised Fred that Rubio was not wearing a uniform. The average individual who viewed him would have never suspected that he was into police work.
Detective Rubio led Fred, Adán, and Pedro down a long corridor with cracked, uneven, dirty tile to the back of the large brick building with high ceilings, peeling paint, and bleached-out walls. A noisy ceiling fan revolved crankily inside Rubio's room. The three sat on hard wooden chairs and faced the ambitious, intelligent Rubio, who sat behind his desk.
The interrogation lasted two hours, with questions and answers, primarily of the nervous, drug-addicted bums, who were offered cigarettes and smoked like chimneys and still reeked, although they had recently bathed. Still, several whiffs of caked shit lingered.
The two told the same story over and over again, about the lies told them, and how the third one was left dead in the laboratory. All three sat nervously eying Rubio, while the detective studied them with penetrating stares, looked down, and scribbled on a pad of paper, getting all of the details.
Rubio had gotten all of the information about Fred's employment at the German Company and then informed him that the Krog-Stein-Mex Company was already being looked at with suspicion for other incidents, but he did not go into details. He was grateful, he told Fred, for what he did in bringing the two men to tell their story. He was going to see about the dead man left at the research building and would be investigating the firm more closely. Rubio explained to Fred that the port of Tampico had many addicts and derelicts, and in their desperation, they were easily lured from the downtown area.
The detective also added that he was going to investigate the mysterious men in the black car. Stories were being spread around the homeless on the waterfront, at the dock port, and in the lower part of Tampico, where the poor addicts and derelicts roamed. Giving Fred a firm look, he said he already had several written reports of problems regarding the occupants in the mysterious black car.
At that moment, Fred remembered the incident with Hans several weeks prior and told Pablo Rubio of it. He gave him the license plate numbers of the black car. In his excitement, he had completely forgotten about them. He related what Hans had told him about the Krog-Stein-Mex Company, and after hearing about the janitor's death weeks later, he was convinced there had to be some truth to his story. Fred informed Rubio that Hans had told him that human body parts were being exported.
Fred added in his conversation to Rubio that he had quit the German Company and was on his way to Mexico City. He produced the keys Hans had given him and tossed them to the detective. He opened his attaché case, which was full of papers, bottles, and pills, and handed him the German manuscripts, thinking Rubio might be able to use them as evidence.
Rubio's thoughts spiraled nervously in all directions while examining the German papers. He was afraid this would open a can of worms, creating a worldwide incident, and he didn't quite know how he would approach this with his high commanders, who were being bribed with much dinero. Politics came to mind. Those damn politics, he thought. The Germans paid the city of Tampico an enormous amount of money to do business here, and half of that money went into their pockets. Without that revenue, the city would suffer; people would be upset and accuse the city fathers of corruption. There was another problem: derelicts and addicts were not on the city's top priority list. Rubio wanted to become famous, popular, and well known. He would have to find a subtle way of investigating the German Company. There were ways.
Fred looked at his watch. He got up from his chair to leave his two drug-addict buddies to explain how they had gotten into the German company in the first place. The two bums cried and hugged Fred, not wanting to see him leave, viewing him as their coming savior. It was a touching moment. Fred gave each one some pesos and told them to take care of themselves. He also gave Rubio some money to see that the two bums were taken care of. With a warm handshake from the detective, Fred left to get his belongings and depart for Mexico City.
He closed his mailbox and then paid the old lady who managed the apartment, taking most of his possessions with him and headed for Tampico-Alto.
In the village, Fred said his goodbyes to Father Gonzales and the nuns, who were shocked when he told them what had happened at the Krog-Stein-Mex Company involving the three bums. Fred told them that there was probably going to be an investigation into the German company for the horribly inhumane things they were doing, especially experimenting with human lives. He said that everything had been turned over to the Tampico police.
"Don't worry, my son," Father Gonzales replied. "El Señor knows what is best for you and he will be with you. Go in peace. We will be praying for your safety. I will inform your patients that you will be gone for a while, but will return. The nuns and I will keep your office open and safe. Perhaps there will be a wedding when you return?"
Fred told them that he was going to spend several months in Mexico City with Dr. Terán, doing research and study, but would return, as soon as the stormy black clouds of the German company passed over and dissipated. Then, he headed to the Gariby's home to pick up his clothes and kiss Dolores farewell.
The Garibys, Dolores, and the two tías were all sad as they bid him farewell.
Within three hours that night, he traveled back toward the bright neon lights of Tampico again, to meet with Dr. Terán and journey to Mexico City.
*****
A whole month had gone by and Dolores had received only one letter from Fred. In his written notes, he stated how busy he had been, and how much he had missed her. He wrote how he missed the small village of Tampico-Alto, and Father Gonzales, and all of its inhabitants. He was doing well in the capital city, studying and staying with the Teráns, but he was lonely. In the next week, he would travel south of Mexico City with the Teráns to meet La Señora's family, who lived several hundred kilómetros away in Morelos. He was going to do research in the small villages. He would write to her as soon as he got paper and pen and got settled.
Dolores wanted to tell him the good news that she was pregnant. Finding herself in a pickle, and in her desperate moments, she came to the reality of what was happening. She confessed to her mother, who had fussed at her many times and had always been against her spending time alone with Fred. But, after a short time, La Señora Gariby reconsidered and entertained thoughts of the wonderful blessing of a grandchild, giving into Dolores's happiness. Señora Gariby and the two tías were extremely happy and could hardly wait until Fred returned. Everything had to be kept as a family secret without any of the gossiping villagers knowing anything about it.
There was going to be a wedding.
CHAPTER 41
The Depression had taken a toll on Mercedes, the Rio Grande Valley, and the state of Texas. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been re-elected president in a landslide and was busy bringing in the second New Deal. He was facing a grave national crisis with the American economy on its knees. Horrible headline stories coming out of Europe and Japan were getting hard to deal with.
After Dan Land and Luis Martin brought home the good news about Fred, Victoria and Don Federico were busy with the state legislators trying to free Fred from the false accusations against him. They were paying an enormous price to several attorneys, who were busy delegating the affairs to the Depa
rtment of Justice so Fred could return home to the United States.
The Depression had claimed large portions of the prominent Juelson family fortune. One oil well went completely dry, and the machines and pumps were left to the elements. The two other wells were doing very little, and the expenses were very high. There were other losses within the last seven years—hundreds of their cattle had to be shot and buried due to a disease. Some suspected mad cow, others suspected spotted fever, and yet no one knew the answer. Many of Don Federico's favorite Brahma bulls were destroyed; few were spared.
Clearing hundreds of acres for the production of cotton became costly and depleted the funds deposited for feeding and paying the workers and their families to work the many cotton fields. Another expense was buying machinery and chemicals, to prevent the boll weevils from destroying the cotton plants. The banking deposit box, which contained silver and gold coins, was kept in a safe in Don Federico's library since most of the banks were closed. Much of the bartering of food and supplies was done across the border.
Hundreds of Mexican-American families moved and migrated north toward the larger cities, abandoning their homes and properties to the eroding weather. The Mercedes school district was also having problems because the interest due on the school bonds was not met, although taxpayers were giving according to their means to keep the school open. Teachers went without pay for a length of time. The land of the old South school was sold, trying to meet its obligations. Many were unable to pay taxes, and their property was being foreclosed on. The majority of the properties belonged to Mexican people who were unable to come up with the money, and they complained to Don Federico, not knowing what else to do.
On one occasion, Don Federico stood at the steps of the Hidalgo County Court House and bid on some of his Mexican friends' homes. He stood for hours bidding, until he bought them, later giving them the title to their property, having paid for everything. They were eternally grateful. He was their hero.
However, even with the tough times, Victoria had been coasting along quite comfortably on the Juelson fortune with Fred gone and pronounced dead. With Don Federico's ill health, she took advantage and borrowed secretly against Fred's inheritance, believing she had time to repay it, and knowing all along that Fred was not dead; it had been confirmed in her meditations and consultations with the dead Doña Adela, who continued to appear at midnight as the black wolf.
Carlos had been the loyal son who had sacrificed his education by staying close to his father's side and pleasing him, and so willingly took orders from Victoria for the sake of the family honor and pride. He worshiped his sister, for Victoria was more like his mother, and he would do anything she asked. He had cushioned himself financially and preferred to live at Spanish Acres and care for the land and the workers. Carlos was the sensitive, silent one in the family; he never asked any questions and had kept out of family confrontations, especially over money.
The Don had ordered legal papers made up, putting Victoria in control of the entire estate; she had finally convinced him to let her become half heir to the Juelson's legacy, since she was already prudently taking care of the books for the Juelson cattle empire, the oil ledgers, the cotton bookkeeping, and other money affairs. Aunt Josie was the other half. Don Federico knew that if anything happened to him, Victoria was smart and would take care of her children, and Carlos and his family and would see that Spanish Acres would be administered properly.
The Depression had also brought dispirited thoughts to Victoria. She felt swindled out of love by being betrothed to a man she hated. She had wasted so many years yearning for the only man she ever wanted, the only man who had conquered her and loved her, and that man was Juan Alvarez. This life-long depression caused her to become bitter and hateful, wanting to strike like a rattler at the least provocation. Occasionally she dissolved into crying bouts and wouldn't eat for days at a time. She would appear red-eyed and with a swollen face and would calmly tell the household, "Oh, don't pay any attention to me, it's nothing."
Occasionally, a surprising letter would arrive from Juan, telling her how much he loved her, and how they'd soon be together again.
She replied quickly that he knew what to do.
She had Luis Martin, who looked just like Juan, to remind her daily of his past affection. Finally, Victoria's maternal instincts had made up her mind—she was going to make arrangements to go get Fred in Mexico as soon as they got word of his freedom. When she traveled there, she would stop in Ciudad Victoria and visit with Juan, now the governor of Tamaulipas. Word had come from Ricardo in Monterrey that Magdalena was gravely ill and that Juan and Señora Del Calderóne were very concerned.
However, there were obstacles to be taken care of before she could travel. Victoria felt overwhelmed by the daily burden of giving orders to the household in Mercedes as well as at Spanish Acres. Then there was the dilemma of Aunt Josie, who had gotten incredibly worse and needed continual attention. Her grandmother Gloria was getting older, hard of hearing, and needed care. Her father, the great Don, was getting slower and needed constant reminding. There were her children, all being raised only by her since Ricardo continued to live his bachelor life in Monterrey. But the bookkeeping business could wait for a month, and Carlos would take care of the cattle and the upcoming production of the cotton. She would plan to go during the slow time of year, between January and April.
Ricardo never failed to show up to collect his money once a year during the fall after harvesting the cotton. Victoria always protested. She hated him as a person and was never prepared for him when he made his yearly appearance in Texas. His main ambition was money, but in the last five years, with the Depression, there had been little cash to give out. Although Victoria wanted to, the thought of divorcing him was out of the question—it would only bring another scandal to the already disgraced family.
Finally, in early 1937, word came in a registered letter from the State Capital in Austin, announcing that Fred Juelson was officially vindicated, found innocent, and was free to return to the United States, signed by Governor James Allred of Texas. There was a huge family celebration at the big house, including Emma and Dr. Burr, with Felicia and Dan, and all of their children, Grandmother Gloria, and even Mrs. McCray. There were many other families who were pleased to honor them, especially members of the gossiping hen's society and the Catholic praying members who had known the Juelson family for so many years.
In the midst of all the rejoicing, several owls were seen circling, whistling outside the mansion, instilling fear and apprehension in the household workers.
On an early foggy morning late in February, Carlos was driving a large truckload of twenty Mexican workers from Mercedes to Spanish Acres. Along with the workers, his truck contained hundreds of pounds of cotton seeds and chemicals for the soil. The timing was set to begin plowing the land, getting it ready for cotton planting. It had rained for two days straight, and finally, the storm had stopped and had left the soil wet and damp. In order for him to get to Spanish Acres, he had to stop at the small town of La Villa, which had developed a railroad station. The train tracks headed east into the newly organized towns of Donna and Edcouch.
There was no railroad-crossing warning. In the still cold morning, the side-windows of his large field truck were closed and frosted over with condensation, as he listened to the radio's weather report, and the busy windshield wipers cleared the hazy windshield. Slowing down, the truck became stuck on the railroad tracks, and Carlos nervously tried shifting the vehicle into a lower gear. In the heavy mist, he did not see the train coming. He never felt the impact. The train hit the truck on the passenger's side, sending all nineteen workers sitting in the back of the truck flying in all directions. The noise of the crash and the appalling screams of the injured men woke the sleeping community and jolted them into action. The train finally screeched to a complete stop several hundred yards down the tracks. Carlos and the field worker sitting on the passenger side of the truck were killed instantl
y. All of the workers in the back were hurt, with scrapes, lacerations, bruises, and broken bones, but they were lucky to be alive.
The news traveled fast like a windblown, blazing firestorm. The telephone rang early in the morning at the mansion in Mercedes. Victoria answered. There was a long silence, then a loud scream that echoed throughout the house and died in an agonizing moan.
The funeral was grim. Hundreds of people around the Rio Grande Valley came to pay their respects. Carlos was buried at the Mercedes Catholic cemetery northwest of town. His wife Mary sat dumbfounded in front of the casket with a black mantilla covering her head, as tears rolled down her cheeks. Their two children, Carlos Jr., five years old, and one-year-old Mary Frances sat next to her, not understanding all of the commotions. Mary was still in shock, facing the grim reality of not knowing what she was going to do with her life, or how she was going to raise her children. Many friends comforted her, as they also comforted Victoria, who was dressed in black, and the Don in his dark three-piece suit. The burial of the farm worker who had been sitting beside Carlos was conducted the following day.
This latest tragedy was just about all that Don Federico's heavy, the despairing heart could stand, but he would see that Mary and her two children were taken care of. He kept asking himself why his golden life had become so sorrowful. He questioned himself in guilt-ridden anguish as to what he had done to cause so much sadness and despair. It had all been a terrible tragedy, and losing his sons was unbearable and inconceivable. But at least Fred was still alive, although unreachable somewhere in Mexico. He would return—someday. It was wishful thinking, but Don Federico hoped Fred would return before he died. He wiped his swollen, red eyes and wheezed, gasping for breath.
Roots of Indifferences Page 75