by Marja McGraw
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”
hic
I sighed and returned to my reading.
It is said that Chavez had a disagreement with his brother, Miguel Chavez, and retrieved the gold he decorated his bawdy houses with, burying it where it would rest unfound by those who searched for it.
I read through the rest of the article, which mainly consisted of the history of the Red Light District and Vincente’s part in the businesses. Near the end it said that this grandfather of mine had earned over $25,000 a year from his businesses, a fortune in those days. And it continued, saying that at the time of his death his estate was valued at around $250,000, mostly consisting of real estate. I assumed he’d invested his money, except for the hidden gold.
“Wait a minute,” I said loudly.
Startled, Stanley looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s a good question. According to this article, my grandfather was worth a lot of money at the time of his death. Now I know that no one in the family ever had a substantial amount of money stemming from his estate, so what happened to it?”
“He contributed to a charity?” Stanley was so very naïve.
“I don’t think this man ever freely gave a penny to anyone who didn’t work for it. He wasn’t a generous soul.”
“Ah. Perhaps he left it to a non-family member,” Stanley suggested.
“Maybe,” I said thoughtfully. “Now that’s something you might do to help me, Stanley. Can you make a run to the courthouse tomorrow and see if there are any records of the estate’s settlement? Maybe there’s a tie-in between the estate and the murder. No, I guess that would be too much to hope for.”
“You never know,” Stanley said, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Let me do some checking. Anything is possible. I can run over there on my lunch hour. The gentleman in question could have had an ulterior motive for disposing of it in a, shall we say, non-family way.”
“Remember, these records will be in the archives, so you may not be able to get the information tomorrow,” I reminded him. I didn’t want my little friend to be disappointed if he couldn’t find the answer for me.
“Never fear when Stan’s here. Just a reminder, but I’d prefer to be called Stan from now on.”
“Sorry, Stan. It might take some getting used to, so remind me if I call you Stanley again.”
“I will most certainly call it to your attention,” he replied.
“Stanl… Oops. Stan, I have an idea. Do you see that white car across the street?” I wagged my finger in the general direction of Mr. Sidekick.
“Yes, I see it.”
“You know there’s a guy who’s been following me, right? Well, that’s his friend. The other guy, Ham, is out of town and his friend has apparently decided to watch my moves. Want to help me get rid of him?” I couldn’t explain it, but I felt a lot braver with Ham out of town and his friend filling his shoes.
Stanley grinned. “Oh, absolutely. I want to help in any way I can.”
It suddenly struck me. Stanley wasn’t just being helpful. He wanted to have a new adventure. Another war story he could tell his pals at work. He wanted another story like when he’d been abducted and involved in a wild car chase.
“Let’s see what happens if we simply walk outside and stand and stare at him,” I suggested. There’s safety in numbers, right? Of course, I’d be tipping my hand and he’d know I was aware of his presence, but he was bugging me.
“What a zippy idea.” Stanley sounded positively cheerful. Did he think this might be the beginning of his new adventure?
“Stan, your hiccups have stopped. I haven’t heard you hiccup in about five minutes.”
“You’re right. I must have become so involved in our discussion that they disappeared. I will assume I only needed a distraction.”
hic
Not Stanley this time, but me. “I wonder if – ”
hic
“ – they’re catching,” I said.
I picked up my coffee cup and chug-a-lugged what was left, then held my breath for as long as I could. I didn’t think I’d scare Ham’s friend if I stood there glaring at him and hiccupping. I wasn’t in the mood to eat a handful of sugar, so I ignored that possible cure.
Stanley led the way and we walked out the door. My man, Stan, stood straight and tall with his feet apart and his arms folded across his chest. I leaned against the building, looking to all the world as though nothing could bother me. I slowly turned my head toward the white car and glared at him, standing up straight with hands on hips. What a sight Stanley and I must have made. Look out, bad guys!
Hic
Oh, good grief. My hiccup sounded so loud to my ears.
Hic
It was loud, because I heard a snicker coming from the white car.
Stanley glanced at me and quickly looked away, returning his gaze to the white car.
“Maybe I should go over and have a talk with this person,” Stanley said, surprising me because he was usually so reticent about everything.
“Stan, I think it would be better to stay here and just give him the ol’ evil eye,” I replied, giving Mr. Sidekick the dirtiest look I could muster.
Stanley wasn’t going to listen to me. He unfolded his arms and stepped forward, stumbling over something I couldn’t see. A crack in the sidewalk? That would be very Stanleyish. He recovered himself and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk.
Hic
The next snicker heard from across the street turned into a chuckle.
Stanley stepped off the curb, intending to meet the enemy head-on, but a car was pulling up with the obvious intention of parking.
“No,” I warned. “Don’t do it, Stanley.”
“Stan,” he replied, stepping off the curb.
Chapter Thirty-three
The driver honked his horn and stopped about two inches from Stanley, who jumped a foot, which led Ham’s friend to great, roaring laughter. Mr. Sidekick started his car and pulled away from the curb.
“Well,” I said when Stanley turned and walked back to me, “at least my hiccups are gone.”
“We’ll get him,” Stanley said with assurance. “I should have had him this time, and I would have if that auto hadn’t pulled up to the curb.”
“Yeah, we’ll get him next time.” I patted Stanley on the shoulder. This little man just melted my heart, endearing himself to me more and more each time I saw him. “In the meantime, don’t forget to go to the courthouse tomorrow and see what you can find.”
“I won’t forget,” he said. “I’m determined, and I’ll be back bearing data.” I enjoyed listening to Stanley talk. His formality intrigued me.
“I’ll probably be here.”
I returned to my desk and decided to look through more of Merced’s letters. In a strange way, I felt like I was beginning to know her through her letters. I couldn’t wait to move into her house. There was a connection between us that was more than just shared genes.
I picked up a letter at random and opened it, noticing the date was about a year after the murder.
Dearest Sister,
I am confounded. V. came to visit me yesterday. He desired to speak of the nurse’s murder, telling me he was not involved. I must tell you that I believe him. As mean as the old skinflint is, I do not believe he has a heart for murder. He is foolishly trying to solve the crime himself. I told him to let the police handle it, but he is certain he will find the culprit himself. He may, as he still has people who want to do his bidding. They will tell stories about each other in order to remain in his good graces.
After he left, I had a surprise when I returned to the front of the house and peered out the window. The new nurse was standing and watching my home. Yes, I have seen her around town and know her face well. Something about her look gave me the shivers. I turned from the window quickly, not wanting to be seen. I watched from behind the coverings of another window where she couldn’t see me, and after a few moments the intrud
er left. Yes, Sister, I thought of her as an intruder. She did not belong here.
Interesting. I thought I detected a modicum of feeling for the old man, at least until she mentioned the nurse. Maybe things hadn’t been all that bad when they were young, before he took a turn in the road and headed for the Red Light District.
Most of the rest of the letter was chatty; talk about the children, and a note that there would be a grandchild before too long. Good for her. She could involve herself with grandchildren and forget Vincente.
I was about to set the letter aside, when something at the end caught my eye.
Dr. Drake came to the house again. I cannot seem to rid myself of these terrible headaches. He looked at my eyes and asked a few questions, giving me a new medicine to try. He had placed his bag on the seat in front of the window, and as he opened it to put his doctor’s utensils away, he peered out the window. He began to shake and closed his bag quickly. I asked if he felt ill, but he didn’t answer me. He waved a hand of dismissal at me and left quite abruptly.
I arose and moved to the window, peering out. To my surprise, Miguel was standing across from my house. As the doctor climbed into his buggy, my brother-in-law approached him, calling out to him. Dr. Drake tried to ignore him, but Miguel took hold of the horse’s reins and spoke again. I believe they argued, both men showing angry faces.
Dr. Drake slapped Miguel’s hand with the buggy whip and hurried away. Miguel stepped back and laughed heartily. He turned to my home and waved a hand at me before climbing onto his horse and leaving. It was all quite disturbing.
With that, Merced ended her letter. Her house seemed to be a beehive of activity, but I didn’t really think it had anything to do with her. What on earth could have been going on? It almost sounded like they were all following each other. And the sight of the “new nurse” would have unhinged me, too. There was absolutely no reason for her to be in the vicinity of Merced’s home.
I had to get organized. Picking up all of the things I’d read so far, I started placing them in piles. One stack consisted of Merced’s chatty letters and newspaper articles of lesser interest. The second stack was made up of only one item, the newspaper article referring to Vincente’s treasure. The third pile contained Merced’s pertinent letters and everything else having to do with the people who might be involved in the murder.
I opened a drawer and withdrew three file folders, labeled each one and put the items in the appropriate folder.
After taking a break to grab a quick lunch, I returned to the office and typed some reports for other cases. I was falling behind in my work and that wasn’t acceptable. After making copies for my own files, I addressed envelopes and put the reports in the mail. My clients didn’t always like the reports I sent them, but at least they knew I was accurate. They could take it to court with confidence, or hide it away in a file if it contained something negative. And maybe pay me for my work one day.
I accomplished quite a bit, but it seemed too quiet without Pete around. I hoped he could come to grips with what had happened and return home sooner rather than later. I thought that sometimes my talking probably drove him nuts, but he always listened patiently. Well, almost always. Simply put, I missed him.
Deciding to call it a day, I turned everything off and picked up my backpack and keys, heading for the door. I closed and locked it and conducted a visual sweep of the area, looking for either a now-familiar white or black car. Mr. Sidekick must have gone home. I breathed a sigh of relief and approached my car, ready to end the day.
I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few necessary items, again sweeping the parking lot as I walked to my car, and headed for home. I was looking forward to a peaceful evening.
I almost made it, too. About half way home I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw the white car behind me. He wasn’t too good at tailing me. Right behind me? Silly man. I waited for an opening and cut into the next lane. There wasn’t room for him to follow. I turned right at the next corner and lost him easily.
This was ridiculous. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. I raced around the block and managed to turn into traffic not far behind Mr. Sidekick, who’d been stuck at a red light. I figured I’d turn the tables on him. He didn’t see me and I was able to follow him for quite a distance. Eventually he turned into a parking lot. I pulled over and waited until he entered a bar. After allowing some traffic to pass, I pulled into the parking lot and strategically placed my vehicle directly behind his. Now we’d see who was stronger – me or him. I’d had enough. I wished my little .38 was in my backpack.
I waited.
I was glad I’d stopped at the store. I pulled a box of cookies out of the bag and munched. Happy that I’d bought milk, too, I opened that and drank from the container.
And I waited some more.
After about an hour I started thinking about slinking into the bar to see what he was doing. Of course, I knew what he was doing. He was drinking. What else would he be doing at a bar? I was glad Pete was out of town. He definitely wouldn’t like the tack I was taking.
A half hour later Mr. Sidekick decided it was time to go home, or somewhere else anyway. He walked out to the parking lot and took in the sight of his car being blocked in by mine. He scowled.
Opening the door, I climbed out of my car, approaching him, but keeping some distance between us. I left the door open in case I had to leave in a hurry.
“What do you guys want from me?” I asked.
He just looked at me, not quite knowing what to say.
“I said, what do you guys want from me?”
He tried to look surprised but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Who are you, lady? And get your car out of my way.”
“No.”
“No?” Now he really did look surprised. It was a genuine reaction this time.
“No,” I repeated. “I’m tired of you and Ham following me. I want to know, right here and right now, what it is you want.” I took a step back, not knowing what to expect. I didn’t want him coming too close.
“Lady,” he said. “We want your treasure, and we’re gonna get it.” He sounded so matter-of-fact about it.
“What are you talking about? What treasure?” I tried playing dumb. Apparently I’d been right about Ham being the man from the restaurant.
“Ham says you got a handle on some stolen loot, and we’re gonna get it. So get used to seeing us hang around.”
I started to laugh. I honestly couldn’t help myself.
“And just how do you propose to go about finding this so-called ‘loot’?”
“You find it and we take it away from you.” He really didn’t seem to care that he was giving me all the information I wanted. “You follow the clues and we follow you.”
Clues? I didn’t have any clues.
“Ham heard my conversation in a restaurant, didn’t he?” I asked, accusingly. “He was eavesdropping, wasn’t he?” He was the man at the next table who’d been laughing at my mother and Stanley. I’d tried to tell Pete that was where I recognized the man from, but he hadn’t quite believed me, and the waiter from the restaurant had never gotten back to him to confirm my belief.
“How do you know his name’s Ham?” Mr. Sidekick asked. His eyes narrowed and he took a threatening step toward me. “That must mean you know I’m Cleveland. I think you know too much.” Ah, another piece to the puzzle. His name was Cleveland. I couldn’t help wondering if that was his first name or last. He took another step, which spurred me into action. Suddenly it didn’t matter if it was his first name or not.
Throwing myself into the car and locking the door, I stuck the key in the ignition. Good thing I’d left the door open.
As I started the engine, Cleveland yelled at me, “We’re gonna find it, lady. You could take that to the bank. We’re gonna stick to you like sticky glue. You can’t shake us off like a flea, lady.”
Sticky glue? Like a flea?
I put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot
. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I could see Cleveland shaking his fist at me.
I hate to admit it, but the whole thing was a rush. I was absolutely high on the feeling I’d had after the confrontation. And at least now I knew what I was dealing with and why these yokels were following me.
I wished I could remember everything we’d said the night we went out to dinner. How much had Ham actually heard? Maybe Stanley would remember some of the conversation.
Cleveland made me stop and think because he and Ham had so much confidence in me. Maybe I needed to look at more than just the information about the murder. Maybe I needed to search for another type of clue. Could we actually find the treasure?
Chapter Thirty-four
1898
It had been a full year since Jessica’s murder. Vincente used every resource available to search for the killer. The peons had provided him with information, but he only listened in disgust, not wanting to hear what was mostly gossip. The killer’s trail was cold, but he was now privy to all the sordid little stories of the people around him.
Then something unexpected happened. An elderly woman, a neighbor, approached him one morning as he left his house. She wanted him to understand that she wasn’t a busybody, but she had something to tell him. She had seen two people at his house on the night of the murder.
Angrily, he asked her why she’d waited a year before giving him this information. She said she hadn’t wanted to become involved. She was an old woman who didn’t want any trouble, but she couldn’t get it off her mind.
Vincente knew she was a snoop and she watched his house to fill the hours of her boring day, so maybe she’d actually seen something important. He gritted his teeth and buried his temper as he asked her whom she’d seen.
The old woman told him the doctor had been to the house. He’d been there in the afternoon, and she believed he’d returned that evening. She stopped talking and started wringing her hands.
The old man had difficulty reining in his temper, but he took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He asked her whom else she’d seen at his house.