A Well-Kept Family Secret

by Marja McGraw

  Heading in the opposite direction from the Baker house, I worked my way to the freeway. Cleveland followed right behind. I calmly drove onto the on ramp and worked my way over to the center lane. Cleveland followed suit.

  I watched the traffic, and when the opportunity presented itself, I cut to the next lane, gave it some gas and moved ahead. The engine purred and I discovered I liked the guts of the V8 engine. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I could see Cleveland trying to maneuver around some cars and not making it.

  While he was tied up with the traffic, I pressed harder on the gas pedal and whizzed by an 18-wheeler, then cut back over to the far right lane and headed for an off ramp. Any off ramp would work.

  Stanley turned and watched out the back window. “If you leave the freeway now, he’ll never catch up with us.” I could hear the excitement in his voice.

  “Great. Now we can take care of the Baker case without having to worry about anyone interfering.”

  We left the freeway, drove under an overpass, and pulled back onto the freeway going the opposite direction, heading back toward the Baker house. We were home free.

  “Sandi, it’s almost dark. We’ve waited too long.”

  “No, we’re okay, but it’s a good thing I remembered the house key. When we were there earlier I noticed a spotlight at the back of the house. We can turn that on, plus I’ve got a flashlight in the trunk.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” Stanley didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

  “Trust me.”

  We pulled up to the Baker residence and I parked the car in the driveway.

  “Stan, help me unload this stuff.” I glanced around, hoping none of the neighbors would call the police. It didn’t matter, but it sure would make things easier if we didn’t have to stop and explain the situation. I probably should have called Dispatch to let them know what I was up to. They would have notified the patrol car in the area and I wouldn’t be hassled when someone called in a suspicious lady digging in a deceased neighbor’s yard.

  There was one neighbor in her garden, pulling weeds. She stood up and looked skyward. Rubbing her lower back, she turned and walked into her house, never even glancing at us.

  I unlocked and opened the trunk, and we unloaded a shovel, the sledgehammer and a trowel. Carrying them back to the corner of the yard where we’d found the cement slab, I thought these things were all we’d need.

  “Okay, stand back,” I grunted, awkwardly lifting the sledgehammer. “This is heavier than I remember.”

  “I know.” Stanley had carted it out to the car when we were at the hardware store.

  “I hope I’ve got the strength to do this.” I was trying to heft it over my head so I could really slam it into the slab.

  “May I make a suggestion?” Stanley asked.

  I gratefully set the hammer down, ready to hear his suggestion. “What?”

  “I was thinking that if we used the tire iron like a crowbar, we might be able to pry the slab up, instead of having to break it into pieces.”

  “Oh. Not a bad idea, Stan. I should have thought of that. Would you go get it? I’ll turn on the spotlight. It is turning pretty dark out here.”

  “Sure. Be right back.”

  While Stanley was gone I unlocked the back door and tried to turn on the spotlight. It wasn’t working.

  “Bring the flashlight, too,” I yelled.

  He didn’t answer, so I figured he’d returned to the car to retrieve the light.

  I waited. No Stanley.

  “Huh,” I said to myself. “Wonder what’s taking him so long.”

  I waited a moment longer before heading for the front of the house. Maybe he couldn’t open the trunk.

  I heard his footsteps, just as I was about to walk around the side of the house, and turned to head back to the cement slab.

  “Hold it right there, missy.” I knew that voice. Cleveland. How did he find us? I knew we’d lost him on the freeway.

  I turned and saw Stanley, who was holding his hands in the air, with Cleveland standing right behind him.

  “He’s got a gun, and that’s not all,” Stanley said forlornly. The nervous tic in his eye was going wild. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded his head.

  Ham walked around the corner of the house. “Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miss Treasure Hunter.”

  “What? When did you get back?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Fooled ya, didn’t we? You thought Cleve was the only one trailing you, didn’t ya?”

  “Yeah. Silly me.”

  “See, Cleve and me, well, we work real good together. While you were tryin’ to lose him, I was in the other lane, just waitin’ for you to pull something. And bingo, you pulled in front of me and off the freeway. I was right behind you and you never had a clue. Some detective you are.” He sounded very proud of himself.

  “Well, it really doesn’t make any difference. There isn’t any treasure here. I’m working for a lady who wants me to dig something up for her. So you guys might as well get out of here.” I tried to sound a lot calmer than I was feeling.

  “Yeah, right,” Cleveland said. “We’re not that stupid, lady. We been watchin’ you all along. You read all that junk in your office, you got on the computer and looked at more junk, and here you are. You figgered out where the loot is, and we’re here to take it.”

  “I’m telling you – ”

  “No, we’re telling you,” Ham said. “Get busy and let’s get this over with. I’m tired of playin’ this game with you. We want our money, and then we’re outta here.”

  “What money?” Frustration overwhelmed me. How was I ever going to get these guys to understand that this wasn’t the buried treasure?

  “Start diggin’.” Ham motioned me over to the corner of the yard with his gun. “Now.”

  “Do you even know how to use that thing?” I asked.

  “Don’t put it to a test,” he said. I studied Ham and his very nasty face. And right then he was looking meaner than mean.

  “Come on, Stan. Let’s get started.” I motioned, encouraging Stanley to follow me, but Cleveland placed a restraining hand on his arm. Stanley lifted his other hand and tried to stop the twitching at the corner of his eye.

  “Nope. Your friend stays right here,” Cleveland said. “He’s insurance that you won’t pull anything.”

  “I can’t move that slab by myself. It’s too heavy.” I didn’t like the turn things were taking, and I didn’t want Stanley anywhere near these guys.

  “You can do it,” Ham said. “We’ve got faith in ya.”

  Both men chuckled, not a pleasant sound, while I tried to decide if I could pry the slab up or if I was going to have to use the sledgehammer. I’d try the tire iron first.

  The men moved over as a group, Ham pushing Stanley along, and watched while I struggled to move the slab. Ham had the flashlight and turned it on to help me see what I was doing.

  “Can’t someone help me?” I asked between clenched teeth.

  “Nope.” Cleveland was becoming impatient. I could hear it in his voice and see it on his face.

  “You’d better get busy, ’cause if we have to do the work, you two ain’t gonna like it,” Ham said ominously.

  “Yeah. If I gotta lift that hammer, I’m gonna practice on you before I swing at that cement,” Cleveland piped up.

  “That ain’t a bad idea,” Ham said. “We’re gonna have to get rid of them anyway. Maybe we can just put them in the hole after we find the loot.”

  And I’d thought it was all a game. I knew better, but hadn’t listened to that little voice in my head, the one that kept telling me to use my common sense. How could I have underestimated these guys – especially Ham? They weren’t clowns, after all. To my chagrin, I realized that I was the clown in this situation.

  A plan started to form in my mind. I hoped it would work. I put the tire iron down and picked up the sledgehammer, no easy task.

  “Stan, I sure wish you were a Whirling Dervish,” I said con
versationally, hoping he’d pick up on it. “You could just twirl me a hole.”

  “Huh? What’s a whirling dipstick?” Ham asked.

  “This!” Stanley yelled as he threw out his arms and began to spin.

  Cleveland and Ham looked at him like he’d lost his mind. He had their full attention. Cleveland’s mouth hung open in awe at the spectacle.

  “Whadda we do?” Cleveland asked, looking to Ham for answers.

  “I don’t know.” Ham shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he’ll wear hisself out.”

  “Yeah.” Cleveland chuckled, but I could see he looked nervous.

  Stanley still had their full attention, and I took advantage of the moment. I raised the sledgehammer as high as I could. My arms shook with the effort.

  “Stop that,” Ham ordered, watching Stanley in amazement.

  Stanley kept spinning.

  Cleveland raised his hand, trying to aim his gun at Stanley. He couldn’t get a bead on him. Stanley spun faster and faster.

  “I’ll shoot you,” Cleveland warned. “Quit it.”

  “What’s the matter with the squirt?” Ham sounded alarmed.

  “I’ll take care of him.” Cleveland lifted the gun again.

  I dropped the sledgehammer on Cleveland’s arm and heard a loud crack. He screamed and dropped the gun, falling to the ground.

  Ham raised his arm, pointing his gun in my direction.

  “Make him stop. Right now!” he yelled, sounding panicky and waving his gun at me.

  I ducked. Stanley slammed into Ham. The gun went off. Ham flew past me and rammed headfirst into the fence. I grabbed his gun when he fell to the ground, dazed and shaking his head. I picked up Cleveland’s gun, and held onto both of them, one in each hand.

  Stanley kept spinning. His face was very pale.

  “Don’t move a muscle.” My voice shook with anger as I pointed one of the guns at Ham. He didn’t hear me; he appeared to be disoriented. My hands dropped to my side.

  “Stop spinning,” I cried, turning back to Stanley. I realized there were tears streaming down my face. He was scaring me. It was like he was out of control and couldn’t stop himself. I believed he was spinning for all the years of being victimized by the big guys in his life.

  He kept turning in circles. Faster, faster. His eyes were closed.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Cleveland, who was holding his arm and rocking back and forth, and Ham, still shaking his head.

  “Stanley!” I yelled, focusing on my friend.

  He began to slow down. Slower, slower, slower. His eyes popped open.

  I ran to him and threw my arms around him. “Oh, Stanley.”

  “Stan,” he corrected. “Stan, The Man.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “You are The Man.”

  I hugged him hard before I lifted the gun again and pointed it toward the two men.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  1898

  Vincente thought long and hard about his brother. There were things he had to know. He’d already waited too long.

  The old man forced himself to do something very distasteful to him. He waited until he knew Miguel would be home, and paid him a visit. He hadn’t been to Miguel’s house since before their falling out.

  Straightening his aging and hunched shoulders, Vincente pounded on the door.

  Miguel responded to the insistent, loud knocking and stood quite still, not asking his older brother into the house. Vincente pushed past him, inviting himself in. It never occurred to him that his brother was younger and more physically fit. He simply didn’t fear this man. He’d never learned to fear anything or anyone.

  Without preliminary conversation, the old man demanded to know why his younger brother had visited his home on the night of the murder.

  Miguel, smiling and delighted with this turn of events, told Vincente why he’d been there and what had happened. He neither confirmed nor denied that he had anything to do with Jessica’s death.

  2003

  Someone called the police, probably because of the sound of the gunshot. We heard the siren’s blare, not an unusual sound in L.A., but this time the noise was close. We heard it before Ham and Cleveland could pull themselves together and try to fight back. It would have been useless anyway. I had one of the guns pointed directly at Ham’s heart. Cleveland was in too much pain to slug it out with us. His arm was useless.

  I glanced at Stanley. His color was back, but he was shaking. There was a new sharpness to his features, a new maturity in his face. Then that wonderful face crumbled.

  He plopped on the ground. “I’m so dizzy. I suppose I should have stopped before I made myself sick.” He leaned over and threw up.

  “Stan, are you going to be okay?”

  “Right as rain.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his mouth. “I was right. You needed me here.”

  “Yes, I did,” I agreed, sighing. When was I going to solve a crime and beat the bad guys without help? I solved cases all the time, but not the ones with this type of action. I knew I could do it, and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

  I had the paperwork for this case, signed by Mrs. Baker, in my car. After showing it to the officers, I explained what happened while they took notes.

  “Buried treasure from the 1800s?” one of them asked. “Are you serious?”

  I assured him I was, but explained that I didn’t know if it really existed.

  “And these bozos have been following you for days?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you didn’t call us?”

  “What was I supposed to tell you? They hadn’t done anything, really, and I didn’t know what was going on.” I suddenly felt very defensive. He didn’t think I could take care of myself either. I sighed again. Another day, another case, and I’d finally have the opportunity to prove myself.

  The officer faced Stanley. “And this guy just turned in circles? I never woulda thought of doing something like that.”

  Stanley’s stomach had recovered and he smiled proudly at the police officer. I noticed his tic had disappeared.

  The cop turned and glanced at Ham and Cleveland, shaking his head. “Oh brother, you’re not too bright, are you?”

  Ham glared menacingly at the officer. Considering he was handcuffed, it didn’t carry much weight.

  The police took Ham and Cleveland away, assuring me they’d take Cleveland to the hospital for treatment.

  “Don’t rush,” I suggested.

  The cop tried to hide a grin, but I saw it.

  Stanley and I finished excavating the cement slab, and we found a metal box buried under it. I dropped my shovel on the ground, lifted the box out of the hole and set it aside. We refilled the hole, although I’m not sure why. Maybe we needed the physical exercise to calm ourselves down.

  Stanley helped me pick up all the tools and we placed those, along with the box, in the trunk of my car.

  “Aren’t you curious about the contents of the box?” Stanley asked.

  “Not in the least. It’s up to Mrs. Baker to check it out.”

  Stanley had left his car at the office, so I drove back and dropped him off. I took a moment and placed the box in a file drawer, locked it, and headed home.

  No offending wild thoughts kept me awake that night. I slept like a log.

  The next morning I awoke to the sound of the phone ringing.

  “Sandi, I’ve got good news for you.” It was Mother.

  I yawned. “What?”

  “You can move into your new house as soon as Wednesday. Everything has been taken care of and the escrow will close by then.”

  “Really?” The escrow had flown by. No more apartment? No more landlord to bug me? Privacy? What a novel idea.

  “I woke you up, didn’t I? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Yes, you did, but it’s okay. This is the kind of news that makes the day worth getting up for. We’ll sit down and make arrangements for my payments to you.”

 
“Well, I’m glad I could do this for you.”

  “Oh. Speaking of helping, I totally forgot. You’ve got an appointment with my doctor this afternoon. It’s a good thing you and Frank came back when you did.” I hadn’t wanted to tell her about the appointment until the last minute, so my faulty memory had come in handy for a change.

  “I do?” Her voice had a tone of coolness.

  “You do. I told you I was going to set the appointment and you said that was okay with you. Don’t back out on me, Mother. You need to see this woman and get control of your life.”

  “Control. Hmm. Nice sound to that.” The warmth was back.

  “Yeah, and I mean control of yourself, not those of us around you.” Oops.

  “Sandra.” Downright cold tone now.

  “Sorry, Mother. But you know what I mean. Whether it’s hormone pills or some other treatment, you need to take care of business.”

  “You’re right.” She sounded upset.

  “I am? Then why do you sound angry?”

  “I should have done this a long time ago. It would have saved everyone around me a lot of grief.”

  Was this my mother talking? I was impressed.

  “Okay. Now one more thing, Mom. I know what your generation is like. You go to the doctor, listen to what they say, and meekly leave with prescriptions in hand. Don’t do that. Ask questions and expect answers. Any doctor worth his or her salt will answer all of your questions, and Dr. Gordon is worth her salt. Write all of your symptoms down, you know, a list, as soon as we hang up. Take the list with you. Be sure to ask about any possible side-effects of the hormones, too, and alternative treatments.”

  “Okay, Sandi, I’ll do that.” There was a note of something new in her voice that I couldn’t identify. Respect maybe? I wasn’t sure, but I liked it.

  We only talked for a few more minutes. She wanted to start her list and I had to meet Mrs. Baker at the office.

  Now that I’d had a good night’s sleep, I was just a tad curious about the contents of the box Mr. Baker had so carefully buried. Couldn’t help it. After what Stanley and I had gone through to retrieve it, I wanted to know what was in it.