“You don’t believe in ghosts?”
“Do you?”
“I work in a mortuary,” I lied. “Sometimes I wonder.”
My eyes shifted back to Wilson and the luminaries. The three of them finger-waved and mouthed hello. I glanced back at Lupe. Did she not see the two women sitting on the settee, or had she merely chosen to ignore them?
“Besides, the doctor keeps me too busy for such nonsense.” Lupe poured herself a second cup of coffee, topped it off with another jig from the flask, took a sip, then offered me a swig.
I shook my head.
“Don’t mind telling you it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Doctor’s not much for chitchat.” Lupe pushed the flask to the center of the counter and raised her cup to mine. “If you change your mind.”
I raised my cup and took a sip of my coffee. Between her inebriated state and need for company, I planned to get as much information from her about Jared and the house as I could.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked.
“A couple of years. The last housekeeper didn’t last. Actually, the last several housekeepers were in and out of here pretty fast. The one before me went running out of here like a madwoman. She said the doctor frightened her.”
“I’ve heard he can be difficult.” I looked down at my cup, best not let her think I was too curious.
“I’ve known a lot worse. But if it’s stories about the doctor you’re looking for, you won’t hear any from my lips. Far as I’m concerned the man’s a saint. It’s just a matter of accepting his moods.”
“You like it here then?”
Lupe took another sip of her coffee. “It’s a job.”
I sensed not much upset Lupe. Job security obviously trumped the doctor’s mood or the fact the house was haunted. It was clear Lupe had chosen to either ignore the luminaries or was totally unaware of their presence. Which can happen. Luminaries are very specific about with whom they make contact, and how much of themselves they will allow to be seen or heard. Either way, I felt certain Lupe was hiding something about herself that might explain her loyalty to the doctor. And I felt I knew what it was.
“And a green card?” I asked.
Lupe put her cup down. The color drained from her face.
“How did you know?”
“A good guess. You wouldn’t be the first housekeeper in Beverly Hills guaranteed a green card in exchange for loyalty.”
Lupe sat back from the counter, her hands outstretched to her cup. “I needed a place to go to. Somewhere safe.”
“You’re not legal?”
“I am now. I was a schoolteacher, educated in the US. I came here on one of those student exchange programs years ago, then I went home like you’re supposed to. I taught English in Guadalajara.”
“Which explains why you speak so well.” Lupe’s English was pitch-perfect, without a trace of an accent. “But not how you ended up here, working for the doctor.”
“Things happened. I needed to get out of Mexico. One of my students got himself mixed up with a cartel. I made the mistake of trying to interfere. The boy’s father smuggled me across the border. If he hadn’t, I’d be dead.” Lupe reached for the flask and added another jig of whatever was inside to her coffee. The third or maybe fourth since we’d sat down. “Dr. Conroy employs a lot of people. One of them happened to hear of me and knew the doctor was looking for a housekeeper and put me in touch. Dr. Conroy took care of the paperwork, and here I am. And grateful to be so. I suppose you could say he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Or walk away from, I thought. I wanted to keep her talking. I told her I’d accepted a few offers like that myself.
Lupe grabbed her cup and held it tight between her hands. “A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, right? Sometimes the choices aren’t so easy.”
“And now you can’t leave. You’re stuck,” I said.
“Hey, I’m safe, and so far, I haven’t wanted to leave. So things worked out.” Lupe swallowed the last of her coffee and stood. “But enough about me. You wanted to see the place, and the doctor won’t nap forever. I’d prefer he not find me chatting in the kitchen. Come with me. I’ll show you around. I’ll text the guard at the gate to call my cell if we get deliveries.”
Parked behind the kitchen’s back door was a small, red, canopied golf cart, big enough for two. Lupe told me to jump in, and with my hand on my head to keep my hat from flying off, and the other holding onto the grab rail, and Wilson balancing like a bag of clubs on the back, we took off like we were late for tee time.
With one hand on the wheel, Lupe pointed to the estate’s sculpture garden—a large, peaceful-looking green expanse with a marble fountain in the center—surrounded by tall hedges and accented with Greek sculpture. Or what I thought was Greek sculpture. On closer look, as we whizzed by, I realized those marble-looking figures I thought resembled Greek goddesses, weren’t Greek at all, but chiseled, life-sized copies of former Hollywood stars. Nude statues. Copies of their namesakes posed to look like the gods.
“Whoa!” I yelled at Lupe to stop the cart. “Is that—”
“Marilyn Monroe?” Lupe laughed. Directly in front of us, the star was posed as she had been for the famous shot of her above the subway grate with her skirt flying in the wind. Only here she stood naked, like a nymph, with her hands on her legs and a perpetual smile frozen on her face.
“There are twelve in all. It’s the doctor’s own Hall of Fame. Next to Marilyn there’s Mansfield, Bardot, and Taylor. I’d stop and walk you through, but there’s not time. However, you might notice the statue in the fountain.” Lupe pointed toward the water feature in the center of the yard.
“Is that?”
“Steve McQueen,” Lupe said. “The doctor has a rather odd sense of humor.”
“Or is an equal opportunist.” Wilson poked me on the shoulder. I grimaced. A reminder shades were to be neither seen nor heard by either me or anyone else while I was investigating. “Just sayin’,” he said.
“Is the doctor bi-sexual?” I asked.
“Not that I’d know. But he’s definitely bipolar, never know what his mood’s going to be.” Then directing my attention to an arched opening in the hedge, Lupe added, “There’s a pathway leading from the garden through to the tennis court, pool area, and the doctor’s private gardens. I won’t bother showing it to you now, time being what it is, but I will show you the guest house before the doctor wakes up. I wouldn’t want to risk him knowing I invited company in for the nickel tour. We’ll take a shortcut past the garage. There’s not much to see there.”
As we zipped past the garage, I did a double take. Was it my imagination, or were my eyes playing tricks on me?
“Stop.” I pointed at the trellised garden area, just beyond the garage. “What’s that?”
“That?” Lupe laughed, and with her foot to the accelerator kept going. With the wind in our faces, I held tight to the grab bar and steadied myself. “Did you think you saw a spaceman?”
“I’m not sure. Did I?” I strained to look over my shoulder.
“No. That’s Billy, the beekeeper. He’s got his beekeeping suit on today. Must be working with his hives.”
“A beekeeper?” I stared over my shoulder as Lupe pressed on toward the guest house. “Are the bees part of the doctor’s new Bee-Natural product line?”
“Hardly. These here are more of a hobby. The doctor’s business, the bee part of it anyway, is done in Europe. Something about European bees being better for what he needs. But bees, in general, are endangered, and the doctor, priding himself on his garden as he does, felt he needed his own hives. And Billy, well, he needed a safe place for his bees. Kind of like me, I guess. Everybody’s got their secrets. But I don’t ask.”
While Lupe may not have wanted to ask, I sure did. My questions about the beekeeper and the doctor were
just beginning to form as Lupe pulled up in front of the guest house. I was momentarily stunned by the elegance of the cottage. Similar in design to the main house, but covered in ivy and much more serene. A mood I felt more reflective of its former occupant.
“Wasn’t Dr. Conroy at all concerned about Jared getting stung? I mean, with all his allergies, I’d think that might be a problem.”
“For you and me, maybe. But it was never much of a concern to Jared. In fact, it was Jared who suggested Billy to the doctor. Billy’s a friend.”
Lupe got out of the cart and headed to the front door of the guest house.
“For how long?” I asked.
“Jared and Billy?” Lupe paused with the key in the door. “Oh, I don’t know. Billy started hanging around here about the time Jared and Amy met.”
“Before or after?”
“After, I think.”
“Why?”
“Just curious,” I said.
“Well, there’s nothing to it. In fact, I remember being in the kitchen when Jared and the doctor agreed the bees were no riskier than it might be if Jared was to go to the beach. Supposedly, the bees aren’t the aggressive kind, and behind the garage, where Billy keeps them, neither the doctor nor Jared thought it’d be much of a problem. As you can see, it’s a fair distance from the guest house. Must be about half a mile. Plus, Jared always carried an EpiPen with him. The doctor insisted on it.”
Chapter 5
As I waited for Lupe to unlock the door to the guest house, I asked why Jared hadn’t chosen to live with his father.
Lupe said she didn’t ask those kinds of questions. “The doctor wouldn’t like it if I did. But, a year ago when Jared came back from Europe, the guest house was empty, and Jared had it redone. I suppose he decided it was close enough without being right under his father’s nose. A long time ago, there was a housekeeper who lived here with her daughter. Since then, several more, but only temporarily. Nobody long term.”
“And you never wanted to move in?” I asked.
“Me? No, not at all.” Lupe’s response was quick and stilted. “You live with the rich, and they think they own you. Never stop asking for things or pushing for more, if you know what I mean.”
I sensed a me-too history and an opportunity to bond over our life experiences. Most women my age have had something akin to work-related harassment issues.
“I hope that hasn’t been a problem,” I said.
Lupe may have been pushing her late sixties, but I had little doubt despite the job security the doctor offered that any unwanted advances and Lupe would have decked him.
“Not for me, it’s not. I may have needed this job, but I told the doctor before I started working here I wouldn’t put up with any funny business. I’d heard the rumors. I told him if he wanted me to work here, he’d have to get me a place of my own. He must have been as hard up for a housekeeper as I was for a job because he didn’t put up much of a fight. I have a small apartment fifteen minutes away. Not that it matters. I’m here dawn to dusk, and these days the doctor’s more bark than bite anyway. Nothing but a frail old man. Hardly much to worry about.”
Lupe opened the door, and I filed in behind her with Wilson silently next to me. Inside, the house appeared to have been professionally furnished. Neutral colors. Oversized furniture. Sans any personal touches. In the living room, a large, leather sectional with geometrically shaped pillows, all earth tones—round, square, and cone-shaped—faced a stone fireplace. In front of it, a glass table with remnants from last night’s party. Napkins. Paper plates. Chips. A few beer bottles, wine glasses, and a small cheese dip that looked as though it had hardly been touched. Above the mantle was a large black-and-white photo of Marilyn Monroe, hugging the lip of a pool with the tips of her fingers, her head and shoulders just above the water, as she smiled suggestively into the camera. All in all, the seductive tone of the living room, and from what I could see of the rest of the house, screamed bachelor pad.
Lupe looked around the room, pulled a crucifix from around her neck, kissed it, then crossed herself with the sign of the cross.
“God bless his soul. I still can’t believe he’s gone. Poor boy.”
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine. It’s just all so sudden and unexpected.” Lupe picked up several napkins from the table and stuffed them into the pockets of her apron. “I was in this very room last night. I would never have guessed it’d be the last time I would see Jared.”
“You were here before the party?”
“Not before, but during. I’d come down to put fresh towels in the bath. At least that was my excuse. I always stop by to say goodnight to Jared before I leave. We have—had—a very special relationship. Jared’s what made this place tolerable, made me laugh when I didn’t think I could anymore. I liked him, and I wanted to see him before he left to go out for his bachelor party.”
“And now, here I am,” I said. “Picking up Jared’s suit for his memorial. Can’t be easy for you.”
“Yes, but that’s the way the doctor wants it. He’s old-fashioned that way. He wants the funeral within three days, or close as can be. He thinks it’s best for all of us, including Amy.” Lupe picked up the beer bottles, stuffed them under her arms, and took them to the kitchen.
“I can’t imagine what it must be like for her,” I said. “Young bride-to-be like that, losing her fiancé so close to the wedding.”
“More than you know.” Lupe returned from the kitchen. “The police were here when I came in this morning. Don’t know why. I think because the doctor’s so upset. He’s not making any sense. He said something about an investigation. And the two of them, Amy and the doctor, I’ve never seen them act so strangely.”
“Did the police come down here to the guest house?” I asked.
“They did. But if they found anything, nobody told me, or I wouldn’t be showing you the place.”
Lupe moved quickly from the living room into the bedroom. I followed and took a seat on the bed.
“You think the doctor really believes Jared’s death was murder or is he just understandably upset? In shock maybe?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Conroy’s a strange man.” Lupe flipped on a light in the walk-in closet and began to search through Jared’s clothes. “But Amy and Dr. Conroy, they had quite a row this morning. It’s fine now, but I don’t envy her putting up with the doctor all by herself. The man can be a handful. Very unpredictable, and now with Jared gone—well, good luck with that.”
I scanned the room. Like the rest of the house, the bedroom was furnished with heavy, oversized furniture, with a black silk down comforter on the bed, a handsomely mirrored armoire, and dresser. It all felt staged, and out of sync with Amy’s lighter, less sophisticated nature. And nothing, other than a single picture of Amy with Jared together on the dresser.
Lupe reappeared from the closet with a black tuxedo on a hanger. “I suppose this will have to do. Jared was going to wear it for the wedding on Sunday. Now he’ll have to wear it for his memorial on Saturday instead.” Lupe sighed and folded the tux over her arm.
“Come. Sit down.” I patted the side of the bed. “This is upsetting you.”
Lupe sat and hugged Jared’s tux to her body. “It’s going to take me some time. I still can’t believe it. All those boys, they all seemed so happy last night. Who’d have thought today we’d be prepping for a memorial?”
“Do you recall who was here?”
I had a sense of youthful male energy in the house—young men goofing on one another. Nothing dark or ominous about their gathering, and yet, there was something about the house that didn’t feel right. Something out of place. Something off.
“Just Jared’s friends. He liked to call them his rat pack. He was a big fan of Sinatra.” Lupe smiled. “I think they all thought they were the next generation.”
“Party
boys, huh?”
“I don’t see how Jared could have grown up as he did and not be. In my opinion, he was more like his father than his father wants to admit. Jared’s best friends were all his fraternity brothers, and you know how they party. I didn’t know them all, but Raul, he was going to be Jared’s best man at the wedding. He was here, and so was Billy.”
“The beekeeper?”
Lupe shrugged. “Yes. Like I said, they were friends. That’s the nice thing about Jared. He may have been born to money, but he wasn’t a snob.”
“Anyone else?” I asked.
“Matthew, Jared’s cousin. He was here, too. Not that they were close, but Matthew had come by to drive over to the bachelor party with them at Mastro’s. The doctor had insisted. He’d hired a party bus for them.”
“Because Dr. Conroy knew they’d be drinking? Jared as well?”
Lupe exhaled. “You’ve heard about Jared’s troubles, I’m sure. It’s no secret he had a problem. The flask on the kitchen counter? It was Jared’s. A gift from Raul. I found it one morning under the sink in Jared’s bathroom. At first, I didn’t know what to do. Who my loyalty was to, the doctor or Jared? But then I thought, the doctor’s my employer, I owe it to him.”
“And did you tell him?”
“I did. I thought the news would kill him. It hit him so hard he had to sit down. I told him how sorry I was, but he said I was right to tell him and not to worry about it. That it would be fine, it was probably nothing more than a slip-up. Wedding nerves, he said, but nothing we wouldn’t get through.”
“Was that the last you heard of it?”
“It was the only time the doctor and I discussed it. The wedding was approaching, and I put it behind me.”
“Was the doctor pleased about the wedding?”
“I’d never seen him so happy. Before Jared returned from Europe, this house was like a morgue. Quiet and suffocating. It felt as though the walls were closing in on us. When Jared came home, everything changed. And when he met Amy, she breathed new life into this house.”
THE HOUSE THAT VANITY BUILT Page 4