by Marja McGraw
“Where would you like me to put my things?” My mother was standing in the doorway, inspecting my apartment.
“I’ve set up my bedroom for you. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Oh no, dear, I’ll sleep on the couch. I just need to put my things somewhere,” she said while continuing to give my small apartment the once-over.
“You won’t sleep on the couch. I will. No arguments.” I could see her face turning red again. Ach! How often did this happen?
“Okay,” she said angrily. “You can sleep anywhere you want to, but let me put my things away.”
“It’s okay, Mother. Follow me.” I led her to the bedroom, and while she was opening her bags I retreated to the kitchen where I poured her a glass of iced tea. I returned to the bedroom and set it on the nightstand.
“Oh, thank you, honey.” She was once again fanning herself as rapidly as she could.
“How often do you have these hot flashes and mood swings?”
“Frequently.” She sounded very distracted.
“Go ahead and unpack, Mother. I’ve cleared out the top two drawers in the dresser for you. While you’re doing that, I’ll return Pete’s call.” I needed to talk to someone who wasn’t dealing with hot flashes.
“Wait a minute, honey,” she said, laying a hand on my arm. “Come here.” She put her arms around me and hugged me tight. “I’m sorry I’m so cranky, but I can’t seem to help it. It’s not like I want to feel like this.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it. We’ll call my doctor’s office and set up an appointment for you.” I could feel her stiffen and decided it might be best to let that go for the moment. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She turned and began unpacking without responding to my suggestion, so I took advantage and made a quick exit.
Taking the phone into the kitchen so my mother couldn’t hear me, I dialed the number of the office. Pete answered on the first ring.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi. So how’s it going? Everything okay?”
“Uh, do you know anything about menopause?”
“Some, actually. My grandmother went though it and it got pretty ugly for a while. Why? Oh, your mother?”
“Yeah. She calls it the curse, which seems to about sum it up. I’m trying to talk her into going to my doctor, but she says she doesn’t want to be told she’s getting old. Her moods are swinging back and forth like a pendulum on a clock that’s been wound too tight.”
“You’ll handle it. You’ve dealt with worse.”
“I think dealing with a murderer was probably easier than this,” I said.
“Did you find out what she wants from you?”
“Are you sitting down? You’re not going to believe this one.”
“I’m ready. What is it?” He was chuckling, which was irritating at the moment.
“She wants me to solve a one-hundred-year-old murder,” I said as dramatically as I could. “Can you believe it? How on earth can I solve a hundred-year-old murder?”
“You want to give me a little more detail? Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Pete sounded hopeful.
“It’s as bad as it sounds, trust me. It’s like this. My great-great-great-grandfather was accused of murder back in the old days. He wasn’t convicted because they didn’t have enough evidence, and my mother has decided she wants me to clear his name. I don’t know how I can do that,” I said, frustration already setting in. “She’s got letters and old newspaper articles, and not much more. Obviously, there aren’t any witnesses around, or anyone else I might talk to. I haven’t got a clue where to begin.”
“Who was he accused of murdering?” Pete asked.
“A nurse, or housekeeper, or live-in lover, or something like that. I don’t have all the details yet. She told me we’d discuss it later.”
“Hmm. It could be quite a challenge for you. You might even have some fun working on this, in a way. I’ll help if I can.” Pete was trying so hard to make things better.
“I’ll need you to take care of our regular cases,” I replied, “but thanks for the offer. I have a feeling this is going to take up a lot of time. She brought plenty of luggage with her, and when I asked her how long she was going to stay, she said she’d be here for as long as it takes.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. On the other hand, she has a boyfriend now. Maybe she’ll start missing him and decide to go home.”
“Don’t hold your breath. You’ve told me a lot about your mother, and no matter what else, she’s tenacious. I don’t think she’ll give up easily.”
“Well, isn’t that a cheerful thought?”
“Anything else?”
“She reminded me of an interesting story about the old man hiding gold. Maybe I’ll run across something that will give me a clue to where he hid it. Maybe I’ll end up on a real treasure hunt. If we find it, we could put the money back into the business.”
“A treasure hunt,” Pete repeated. “Sometimes I think you live in a dream world.”
“What do you mean?”
“If there really was gold, then I’m sure it’s been found by now. Someone must have run across it over the years.”
“No, I don’t think so. That area has been built over. Like I said, that’s where Union Station is located now, among other things. Family legend has it that he buried the gold in the vicinity of the business. I just might get lucky, you never know.”
“You got lucky when you met me,” Pete said.
“Yeah, right,” I replied, grinning.
Chapter Five
1898
As Vincente approached his home, his steps faltered. Stopping, he watched a woman’s silhouette through the open drapes. The old man had invited the newest of many so-called nurses to share his house not long after he’d been cleared of the crime. It had been a mistake because she was too demanding and uncaring. Well, that was what he wanted. He certainly didn’t want someone around that might cause him to feel vulnerable. Emotions were for the weak.
She was pacing, which probably meant trouble. A frown caused deep furrows across his brow line. She was shaking her head, much as he had done, and her posture indicated anger. The old man wasn’t ready for the upcoming confrontation. He was tired and wished all of the problems would just go away for a while.
With determination, he turned and headed toward Chinatown and all things familiar, passing by the house as quickly as possible, not looking back.
There was a lot to think about before going home. Maybe he should do some digging and take care of his brother, share the wealth so to speak. He pursed his lips, thinking about the buried treasure. The problem of the hidden gold was gaining momentum, so at least paying his brother off would mean one less issue to worry about. He knew Miguel would never let it go. Such a greedy man. He wanted what didn’t belong to him.
Vincente grinned. His brother would go to hell before he’d share one single coin with him. A passerby saw the grin and ducked his head down, afraid of the evil old man.
2003
“Sandi, would you come here for a minute?” I heard Mom call as I hung up the phone.
“Coming.” I walked down the hallway with trepidation, not knowing if I’d run into my mother or that other woman. It seemed to be kind of a crapshoot, from moment to moment.
“Sandi, I want to apologize.” She was watching the door, waiting for me.
“For what?”
“My moodiness.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mom. I’m just not used to seeing you like this. I really do think you should see my doctor while you’re here though.”
“Maybe I will. I honestly can’t help the way I’m acting, and it’s driving me nuts, so I can imagine what it’s doing to the people around me. One minute I’m fine, and the next I feel like a raving lunatic. Right when I think things are back to normal, I have one of those hot flashes. It’s frustrating. Sometimes I’m half afraid the men in little white coats are going to come take me away to
a mental hospital.”
“How does Frank deal with it?” I asked, curious.
“He does quite well, surprisingly. I guess he must really care for me. Why, he’s even taken the time to read some articles about the curse. The only problem is, now he thinks he’s an expert and that drives me nuts.”
I chuckled. “Give the poor guy a break, Mom. At least he’s trying.” I was liking this guy more all the time.
She busied herself, putting the last few things away while I watched.
“Would you like to go out to lunch?” I asked. “I’ll bet you’d love to take a run over to the In-N-Out for a hamburger, huh?”
“You do know how to brighten my day, sweetie. That’s one of the things I miss about living out here. Goodness, I grew up on those hamburgers. When I was a teenager, that’s where we hung out.”
“I know. It’s hard to imagine you as a teenager, Mom.”
“Really. I’m not that old, Sandra.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Mother said, sighing. “I wish I could get past being so touchy. Everything seems to set me off lately.”
“I noticed.” I glanced at her, but she didn’t appear upset anymore.
“A hamburger sounds great. That big breakfast is wearing off, and I think a burger would hit the spot.”
“Good. I need to stop by the bank on the way and cash a small check I received from one of the insurance companies, so we’ll leave in about an hour. Now let’s go out to the living room and do some catching up. I’d like to hear more about Frank.”
“And I want to hear more about Pete,” Mother said, smiling.
We wandered out to the living room and sat on the couch like a couple of kids with our legs curled up under us.
“Mom, you really do look good.”
“So do you, dear, but you are going to get a haircut soon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mother, I have an appointment in a few days.” Here was the mother I knew and loved. I didn’t really have an appointment, but you could bet I’d have one by the end of the day. “Since you want a make-over, I can make an appointment for you, too.”
“That would be fun, sweetie.”
We talked for a while. She told me more about Frank, and although he sounded like a wonderful man, I found myself feeling unusually protective of my mother. She was such a strong-willed woman that the sensation of feeling protective didn’t come easily. She’d always watched out for herself and didn’t need my help, but I couldn’t stop what I was feeling. Sitting there at the end of the couch, she looked even smaller than I remembered. I mentally shook my head and wondered where these feelings were coming from.
“Well, I’m hungry. What do you say we go get that hamburger?” My mother stood up, ready to go. “I’ve been eating more lately. I wonder if this curse thing has anything to do with that.”
“I’m getting hungry too.” I picked up my backpack from the other chair, deciding it might be prudent not to comment on her eating habits.
“I sure like that backpack,” Mother said thoughtfully. She was well known for carrying huge purses, so I wasn’t surprised that she was interested in it. “I may have to look into getting one of those things. I like the way you just carry it over one shoulder.”
“I know a store that specializes in nothing but purses and backpacks. We’ll check it out sometime this week.”
“Oh, good. We’ll need to do some shopping while I’m here anyway because, like I said, I want to change my image. Create a new me. Maybe a younger me.” She picked up her purse, which was almost as big as she was, and we headed out the door.
“My bank isn’t too far away, and it’ll only take me a minute to run in,” I said, reminding her of my errand.
“No rush, dear.”
We drove several blocks and I pulled into the bank parking lot. I grabbed my backpack out of the back seat and told my mother to keep the doors locked.
“I live in Chicago, remember?” she asked. “I know how to take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right,” I mumbled.
The line in the bank was longer than I expected, and I was starting to tap my foot in irritation when it was finally my turn and I stepped up to the teller.
“Good morning.” The teller greeted me automatically, in a monotone.
“Good morning. How are you today?”
“Good,” she said absently.
I placed the insurance company’s check in front of her and after checking for my endorsement she began tapping the keys on her computer. Since it was such a small amount, I was hoping she wouldn’t tell me the check would have to clear before I could have my money. A commotion drew my attention to the entrance of the bank. It appeared that something was going on outside. The teller glanced up, too, when we heard a man yell.
“Wonder what’s going on,” I said.
“No telling, around here,” the teller replied disinterestedly, turning back to her computer.
My gut feeling was that I’d better hurry. If something was going on, I didn’t want to leave my mother outside by herself. The teller handed me my cash, I said a perfunctory thank you and half-walked, half-ran out of the bank.
Chapter Six
“Mother,” I said in a strangled voice as I approached the car and saw several people standing around, watching her and whispering behind their hands. One man began to clap, and a woman followed suit. “What’s going on here?”
“You know that lady?” a man asked, chuckling.
“That’s my mother. What’s going on?” I repeated.
“She’s quite a broad.” He turned and walked away.
“Mother, what are you doing?” I quickly moved past the crowd that had gathered. Sucking in my breath, I closed in on her. “Let that man up!”
“No way, dear. He tried to mug me.” She was looking down her nose, a little too calmly, at a man lying on the ground.
I ran over and placed my size six foot on his back, next to her size five. The man was shaking, but other than that, he wasn’t moving.
“He mugged you?” I asked incredulously.
“He tried to mug me. I got out of the car and he tried to grab my purse. I turned in a circle with the purse before he could get hold of it and hit him in the back of the head. I’m afraid I knocked him down.” Her tone had a ring of surprise to it.
“You what?”
“Well, I was having another one of those damned hot flashes, and my mood was deteriorating rapidly so I got out of the car. I thought if I had some air I’d feel better, you know. Anyway, I saw him coming out of the corner of my eye, so I held tight to my purse, and when he grabbed for it I turned around in a circle, swinging the purse, and hit him from behind. I never expected to knock him down, much less catch him.”
The mugger was beginning to move around, apparently having regained his senses. He appeared to want to get up and away. I was having enough trouble relating to my mother saying “damn” and hitting a mugger, so I put more weight behind my foot and moved it to the back of his neck.
“Don’t you move a muscle, buster,” Mother said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “If I have to, I’ll knock you on the head again.”
I couldn’t believe this was my mother standing up to a mugger. Aunt Martha maybe, but Mother? I noticed the bad guy settling down, apparently deciding it would be best not to anger my mother further.
“Will someone please go call the police?” I asked of the crowd in general, worried that my mother would actually smack him again. Criminals have been known to sue people for protecting themselves, and I didn’t want her to get involved in something like that.
“I’ll gladly do it.” A woman almost as small as my mother stepped forward. “I got mugged once. Wish I’d had her presence of mind when it happened to me.”
“Sandi? Sandi Webster?” came a voice from behind me.
“Am I ever glad to see you,” I said, looking over my shoulder. Rick Mason was wa
lking toward me, having just come out of the bank. Rick is a friend of Pete’s, and he’s also a homicide detective with the L.A.P.D.
“Having a problem?” he asked, grinning. “One of the tellers sent me out to help, but I had no idea it was you.”
“Would you please handcuff this jerk? He tried to mug my mother.” I moved my foot away from his neck and pulled my mother away from him.
Rick complied, pulling the mugger to his feet. “A patrolman will be here in a minute, and he can take the report.”
My mother cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” I said, glancing at her. “Rick, this is my mother, Olivia Webster. Mom, Rick Mason, a friend.”
“Please, call me Livvie,” Mother said, extending her hand.
“Livvie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Still grinning, Rick took her hand and shook it. “I heard what happened while I was walking over, and I want you to know that you’ve brightened my day.”
“Well, it was nothing,” she said, blushing. She began to pace, apparently needing to walk off some of the adrenalin rush she was feeling, the events catching up to her. I’d experienced this type of excitement before and thought I probably knew how she felt.
By this time a uniformed police officer had arrived and placed the suspect in the back of his patrol unit. Rick filled him in and he began his report. I followed them to the patrol car.
“The perp said the woman hit him with her purse,” the officer commented. “Did she really?”
“Apparently,” Rick replied.
“He asked me to keep her away from him,” the officer added. “He said she had the mouth of a sailor and he didn’t want to be yelled at anymore.”
“Sailor? My mother?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Well, she was having a hot flash.”
“Did any of you see what happened?” Rick asked the crowd.
“No!” they yelled, pretty much in unison, and they turned as one and began walking away.
“Nobody likes to get involved anymore.” Rick shook his head.
“There was a woman here who went to call the police.” I looked around, trying to locate her. “There she is.” I pointed her out to Rick.