by Marja McGraw
“Could be a while then, huh?”
“Could be.”
“Want to come stay with me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and wiggling them at me.
“Not likely. Chances are that my mother would want to come, too.”
“Yeah, not likely.”
Pete left the office, and I stayed to clean up a few details on a case we’d recently closed. I was about to leave when the phone rang.
“Webster & Goldberg. May I help you?”
“Hi. This is Amanda Lewis. I was in there a while ago, and talked to a guy named Pete about someone following me.” She was chomping on a piece of gum, loudly.
“I’m Sandi Webster, his partner. He told me about your problem. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Alan called, and he’s coming back a day early. I just wanted to let you guys know. He scares me, ya know?”
“I understand completely. Pete and I will take care of things.”
“Thanks much. You can’t imagine how this is making me feel.” Her tone of voice told me exactly how she was feeling. Her chomping was speeding up and she cracked her gum.
“Well, actually, I can.” We talked for a few more minutes and I gave her a couple of suggestions about protection.
“For one thing, Amanda, go buy yourself some pepper spray, and don’t bury it in the bottom of your purse. In fact, get the kind that’s on a key ring so it will be handy. If you don’t do that, always walk with one of your keys extended between your fingers. A key can do a lot of damage if you poke someone with it.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have deadbolts on your doors at home?”
“No, ma’am. Should I?” Chomp. Crack.
“Yes. Call a locksmith and have them installed, and do it today. In fact, ask the locksmith if he has any suggestions to make your home more secure. We’ll talk more when I meet you.”
“Thank you. I’ll take care of the locks right away.”
I assured her I’d let Pete know she’d called, and we hung up. She seemed like a nice young lady, young being the key word. I had no idea how old she was, but she came across like a twelve-year-old. It was partly what she said and partly the gum, but more than that, her voice actually sounded like that of a kid. I’d have to ask Pete more about her at dinner.
Returning to my apartment, I gently woke my mother. She seemed fine, and after I put out a towel and washcloth for her, she proceeded to take a shower. When she walked out to the living room she looked calm and completely in control, like the mother I was used to.
“Feel better?” I asked.
“Much. There’s nothing like a long, hot shower to perk you up, I always say.”
I took my turn in the shower, taking a relatively cold one since she’d used up most of the hot water.
Pete showed up about a quarter to five, wearing slacks and a shirt instead of his usual jeans and t-shirt.
“You never dress up like that for me,” I whispered when I opened the door.
“I wanted to make a good impression on your mother,” he whispered back.
“Mother, this is Pete,” I said when she walked out of the kitchen. “Pete, this is my mother, Olivia.”
“Please call me Livvie.” She reached out and shook the hand he offered her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Livvie.” Pete was grinning. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’m sure you have.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Nothing too detrimental, I hope.”
Pete laughed. “Nothing bad at all. In fact, I’ve heard Sandi say she wishes she was more like you.”
“Really,” Mother said, disbelievingly. “I can’t imagine why.”
“She’s in the detective business. She tells me you’re a gutsy lady, and after hearing the story about the mugger, I believe her. You’ll have to tell me more about it at dinner.”
“I’d love to,” Mother said sweetly.
“Are you ladies ready to go?” Pete asked.
“Ready.” I picked up my purse, leaving the backpack at home for a change.
We left the apartment and the three of us discussed possible sources of information regarding my grandfather. I’d begin researching first thing the next morning.
“See if you can find any references to the hidden gold, while you’re at it.” My mother was trying to bait me with the gold.
“Right,” I said.
Chapter Nine
1898
The hell with it, the old man thought. I will not share the gold with my brother. He’s done nothing to deserve it, and it’s mine. I worked hard for that money.
Vincente clapped his hands together. He wouldn’t give the gold to his worthless brother, and he wouldn’t give in to the latest nurse and her demands. He’d always had his own way, and that wasn’t going to change because of a couple of greedy, worthless nobodies. Making those decisions perked the old man up. He’d check to be sure the gold was safe, then go home and tell the nurse to leave. He’d throw her things out on the dirt, if necessary. The thought of tossing her things out the front door made him grin.
Fleetingly, his sense of domination returned. And it was good. For a moment, he felt almost young again. The feeling of youth didn’t last long, but the sensation of strength remained. The old man had used his power in the most devious of ways for more years than anyone cared to remember.
The fog had thickened, which delighted the old man in this instance. He could check on his gold and not worry about anyone watching. What a stroke of luck.
He had one of the boys who hung around The Alley hitch his horse to the buggy, then drove slowly down the road. The boy sneered at the old man’s back while he thought about the cheap old bastard who never tipped him – or even thanked him.
2003
Mother began the evening by telling Pete stories about my childhood, and Pete, not wanting to be left out, told stories about my detecting. I smiled politely, but wanted to walk out and take a cab home. This process continued throughout the service of bread and salad, and would have gone on through the main course had it not been for the appearance of a surprise guest.
“Stanley,” I said, grateful to see him. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, my goodness. This is truly amazing. I never go out to the finer dining establishments, but I wanted to splurge tonight. I received a raise in pay today and decided to celebrate.” Stanley had an endearing way of speaking too properly sometimes. Well, most of the time.
“Mother,” I said, “this is Stanley Hawks, a former client and now friend. Stanley, this is my mother, Livvie.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Stanley said. “You have a wonderful daughter.” A statement uncalled for, but greatly appreciated.
“Won’t you join us?” I asked.
“I don’t want to impose.” Stanley eyed the vacant fourth chair, belying his words.
“It’s no imposition,” Pete assured him, pulling out the chair.
Now, you have to understand Stanley to appreciate this, but as he sat down he managed to snag the tablecloth and would have pulled everything over, except Pete and I were ready and held out steadying hands. It’s something we’ve grown accustomed to with Stanley. He’s what is commonly referred to as a klutz. The first time we met him, he literally fell through the front door of the office, then managed to spill coffee all over himself, with several other little mishaps in between.
“Tsk, Tsk.” Stanley reached to help us and knocked over a flower vase in the process. We hadn’t anticipated that move.
Pete waved to the waiter while he righted the vase. “Our friend is going to join us. Would you please bring another menu? And hold our main course until our friend catches up.”
“Yes, sir. May I bring you something to drink?” he asked, turning to Stanley.
Stanley requested a glass of White Zinfandel, which surprised me. He doesn’t normally drink. This man is relatively small, possibly in his early forties and has dull brown hair that’s thinning rapidly. H
e’s quite slender and small-boned, slightly bent over and very light-complected. Add his brown-framed glasses with thick lenses to this description, and the fact that he writes verses for greeting cards, and that’s Stanley Hawks.
“So you’re Stanley,” Mother said. “Sandi told me a little about your stalker situation. I almost feel as though I know you.”
Stanley beamed. “Yes, it was quite a unique situation, wasn’t it? Can you imagine being followed by a hoodlum for a debt I didn’t even owe? Would you like to hear about it?”
“Yes I would. And then I’ll tell you about my mugger.” This was going to be an interesting evening.
About that time a few waiters gathered around a table near us and began singing a birthday song to one of the customers. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down my mother’s face.
“You can tell your story first,” Stanley said quickly, obviously at a loss.
“I’m sorry,” Mother said tearfully. “It’s – well it’s – well it’s my time of life and I seem to cry over everything.”
Stanley turned to me, appearing lost and inquisitive.
“Menopause,” I explained quietly while handing mother a tissue, hoping that the one word would explain everything.
“Thank you, dear,” she cried.
“Take a drink of water,” I suggested. “And a very deep breath.”
She did what I’d suggested and the tears dried up. None of us mentioned it again.
I glanced at the next table where a man sat eating alone, his shoulders shaking. He seemed to be listening to us, and we apparently amused him. I thought he leaned back a bit to better hear what was going on.
“So, Livvie,” Stanley said, trying to change the subject, “what brings you to Los Angeles?”
“My mother wants me to solve a hundred-year-old murder and find some hidden family gold.” I responded on her behalf, afraid she might launch into a long diatribe if I left the answer to her.
Stanley raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“That’s right.” Mother was going to have her say no matter what. “And she can do it if anyone can. I have every confidence in her.”
“Hmmm,” Stanley said thoughtfully. “This sounds like something which might involve a lot of research. You know, I have a computer and I’m quite adept at research. Might I help with this project? You know I’d like to become involved in one of your cases.” He looked at me beseechingly, turning to Pete to back him up.
“You know, he just might be able to help,” Pete said.
“You could be right,” I agreed.
“Why, Stanley, you’d do that for us?” My mother beamed at the little man.
“Absolutely. It sounds like fun.”
“Fun?” I couldn’t imagine anything that would be less fun. Although I was good at it, research was not one of my favorite pastimes.
“Yes,” Stanley replied. “You’d be amazed at the information you can locate on the Internet. I’m quite good at it, as I said.”
“You’ve got a deal.” I spoke quickly, before he could change his mind. “We’ll get together after I’ve looked things over and I’ll let you know what we need.”
“Super.”
“Yeah, super.” Pete chuckled.
“Tell me more about the hidden gold.” Stanley was ready for an exciting story. “It sounds quite fascinating. And it would be so zippy to solve a hundred-year-old murder.”
Zippy?
Mother and Stanley finally settled down and traded stories, while Pete and I listened politely.
“Who would have guessed these two would get along so well,” I whispered behind my hand.
“Will wonders never cease?” Pete was enjoying this.
“You told him where we were going for dinner, didn’t you?” I asked, the light dawning.
“Yeah. I thought it might make things easier.”
“Bless you.”
Chapter Ten
The next morning I woke up early. Remembering my cold shower from the previous night, I took advantage of the hour and cleaned up while mother was sleeping. I wrote her a note telling her I’d gone to the office and would be back in a couple of hours, and left it on the kitchen table.
While I drove to work I kept glancing in my rearview mirror. I had the oddest sensation that someone was following me. I got a glimpse of a black Chevy a couple of times, but I couldn’t tell if it was the same car each time or not. It finally turned off and I shrugged the feeling away as I approached the office.
“Good morning, Pete.” I put my backpack in a desk drawer and sat down heavily.
“Good morning.” Pete was grinning. “Your mother is a kick. Between her and Stanley, it was quite an entertaining evening.”
“Actually, it was a lot of fun. At least after my mom’s crying and after the waiter cleaned up Stanley’s spilled wine. And after they were through being angry with me because I started laughing. The guy sitting behind you seemed to enjoy our little show, too. He kept leaning back, trying to hear everything.”
Pete smiled and turned back to his work. I saw that he’d already made coffee, so I washed out my mug and poured myself a cup.
“Hidden gold. Old murders,” I said, disgusted with the whole thing. “How am I supposed to do this?”
“You’ll find a way. And if I were you, I’d get started. The longer you wait, the longer your mother will be here. Besides, we need the money.” Pete’s reminder didn’t help.
“I know, but I can’t figure out where to begin. And I tried to tell Mother that I couldn’t take her money. She insists on paying though.”
“What would you do if the murder had happened a few years ago instead of a hundred?” Pete asked, ignoring the money comment.
“You’re absolutely right. I’ll do this the same way I’d work on any other case.” My mood lifted, if only briefly and slightly. I knew this wasn’t going to be the same as any other case. I sighed loudly.
“Quit whining and get to work. This isn’t as bad as you’re making it sound – at least, not yet. You’ve got to give it a chance. Do your research and see if there’s even a slight chance of solving this. As far as the hidden gold, I doubt if there’s much you can do. Like you told me, that whole area was covered over a long time ago. You can’t go digging up Union Station.”
“Tell that to my mother. Although honestly, she hasn’t really said much about the gold, other than to try to entice me with it. She’s more intent on clearing ol’ Vincente’s name. I don’t want to let her down.”
“Do what you can and don’t worry after that. You can’t perform miracles.”
“Well, I can try. I shouldn’t be letting this get me down when I haven’t even looked into it yet. Stanley can help, but I can do a lot on my own computer, too. And maybe I can run over to the court and pick up any pertinent records, if they’ll let me get into the archives.”
“That might be a problem,” Pete said. “They’re not always cooperative when it comes to digging up the old stuff.”
“I’ll give it a try, anyway. I still know a few people in the courts.” I’d worked in the court system for several years, and had only left to open my detective agency.
I happened to glance up just in time to see a black Chevrolet creeping past the office very slowly. Standing, I walked toward the window, but when I neared the glass the car sped away. I noticed that it had a dent in the driver’s side and the rear bumper was missing.
“What?” Pete asked, watching me.
“Oh, nothing. I keep seeing a black car, but it’s such a common vehicle that I’m sure I’m wrong.”
“Wrong about what?” Pete persisted.
“Well, I had the feeling it was following me on the way to the office. I’m sure it was just my imagination though.”
The phone rang. Pete picked up the receiver and after listening briefly said, “Good morning. How are you today?”
He listened for another moment. “Glad to hear it. Here’s Sandi.” He handed me the phone.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe something in Pete’s tone of voice.”
“Oh. Well, can you come back to the apartment? Frank just called and he’s at the airport. We need to go pick him up.”
“He’s here? He didn’t call first?” I asked.
“No, dear. He was afraid that if he called before he left I’d talk him out of making the trip. Can you pick me up and drive me to the airport? He flew into L.A.”
“Of course. Hold on a second. Pete’s waving his hand at me.”
“What’s going on?” Pete asked.
“Mother’s boyfriend flew in and I need to pick him up at the airport.”
“Tell your mother I’ll take her. You stay here and get started on your research.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully.
I wanted to meet Frank, but I supposed it could wait. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to drive to an airport again, especially the chaotic Los Angeles airport. While they were gone I’d start my research.
“Mother, Pete is going to take you,” I said, turning back to the phone. “Will you get your papers together and he can drop them off on the way to the airport?”
“What papers?” she asked.
“The one’s having to do with Vincente.”
“Certainly, sweetie. I’ll get them out of my bag right now.” She sounded like a different woman than the one I’d spent time with the day before.
“Thanks. I want to get this thing started.” And I also want to get you and Frank on your way home, I thought to myself. I was feeling overwhelmed. Between the hot flashes and the mood swings, I didn’t know what to do, no matter how much I cared for my mother.
“By the way, honey, a black car pulled into the parking lot here a while ago, and the driver just sat and stared at your apartment. I thought about calling the police, but he finally drove away.”
“What did the car look like?” Black? Could it be missing a bumper? Why would anyone be following me? I wasn’t working on any cases of consequence at the moment. We hadn’t even started on the Amanda Lewis case yet.
“Like I said, it was black. I did notice that he doesn’t have a rear bumper though, if that helps.”