When Memory Fails

by L C Hayden

  “You go first.” Bronson sipped his coffee.

  Sandy leaned forward, eager to share the information. “After we left last night, Daniel and I went back to the attic and found this crumpled newspaper.” She handed it to Bronson.

  Bronson looked at it and smiled. It looked more like a novelty flyer than a real newspaper. This was the type of newspaper that one would expect to find attached to the car’s windshield in the parking lot when the carnival arrived in town. Even so, Bronson skimmed its contents as though his life depended on it.

  When he finished, he set the paper down.

  “That proves Sechrest Falls exists,” Sandy said. “You wanted proof, and there it is.”

  “Not much of a newspaper, though,” Bronson said. “It reads more like someone’s creative writing effort.”

  “It does have a lot of flowery language.” Carol had read the paper over her husband’s shoulder.

  “Precisely.” Bronson picked up the newspaper and searched for the article he was looking for. “Ah, here it is. The article claims that a waterfall and lake called Sechrest Falls lie within a walkin’ distance of the town. The town was named after the falls.” Bronson stood up. “I’ll be back. I’m refillin’ my cup of coffee. Anyone wants anythin’ while I’m up?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “No more than one cream and sugar,” Carol said as Bronson walked away.

  He waved at her, acknowledging that he had heard. Once inside, he refilled his coffee cup. He reached for the condiments and frowned. He really liked three heaping spoonfuls of each. He compromised by putting a bit under two spoonfuls of sugar and two of cream. He stirred his coffee and headed out. He picked up the newspaper. “It says in here that the falls is the heart of the land—whatever that means.”

  “That’s an interesting way to phrase that.” Daniel shrugged. “Like Aunt Carol said, ‘flowery language.’”

  Even though it was only mid-morning, the heat shimmered like tiny waves around them. Bronson wiped his forehead and wished for yesterday’s cooler breeze. “Does that strike a chord with anyone here?”

  Both Carol and Sandy looked up, stared into each other’s eyes as though communicating telepathically, and said in unison, “The letter.”

  Bronson nodded. “Exactly. The letter refers to The Ledger ‘finding its resting place in the heart of the land’.”

  “The waterfall. The lake.” Sandy’s face shone with the light that came from finding an answer, or at least a clue.

  Bronson leaned back on the bench and stretched. “Good. So far, we’ve established that Sechrest Falls was a real town, and we might have even found the area where we can search for The Ledger, if it exists.”

  Sandy let out her breath in a big pfft sound. “If it exists? Of course, it exists. We have just uncovered where it might be hidden.”

  “We’re only speculatin’. We haven’t really proved that The Ledger exists or even if those letters are authentic.” Bronson flashed Sandy an encouraging grin.

  Sandy’s shoulders sagged. “Then how do we go about doing that?”

  “We talk to somebody in the family who is familiar with the family history and gossip. Most families have someone like that. Do you know who that is in your family?”

  Sandy shrugged.

  Bronson slightly thrust his head forward, showing Sandy he wouldn’t give up. “How about someone in authority—the one person everyone looks up to. Who would that be?”

  Daniel snapped his fingers. “Bobbi Lazzarone! Aunt Bobbi.” Daniel reached for Sandy’s hand and squeezed it. “She has an air of authority that lets everyone know she’s the boss, and everybody does what she says.”

  “Not really.” Sandy shook her head. “Pappa Lazzarone is more powerful than Aunt Bobbi or any of us. He rules, and we all do as he wishes. Bobbi takes orders directly from him.”

  Daniel’s forehead wrinkled. “How come I haven’t heard about him?”

  “He’s very private. He lives on the third floor of Aunt Bobbi’s mansion. He never comes out, but I hear that his suite has everything he needs or possibly wants. The only one whom he allows to visit him is Aunt Bobbi. Sometimes she spends hours up there with him.”

  “A modern Howard Hughes,” Bronson said.

  “In a way, I suppose. But he’s not weird. He’s not afraid of germs, but he does enjoy living like a hermit in his own palace. The way Aunt Bobbi says it, he even has an outside garden complete with trees, flowers, and grass.”

  “Indoor pool?” Daniel asked.

  “That and a full gym.”

  “I wouldn’t mind sneaking a glance at that place.” Daniel winked at Sandy.

  “That, I’m afraid, would be impossible.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Only Aunt Bobbi. Still, that piques my curiosity.”

  “Mine as well,” Bronson said. “But that’s a different mystery. Let’s stick to solvin’ this one first. I say let’s all pack up and go pay Aunt Bobbi a visit.”

  Chapter 13

  Bobbi’s hand lingered by the phone, willing it to ring. Seconds later, the theme to Jaws filled her living room. She let it play until just before it went to voicemail. Then she picked up. “Sandy, darling. It’s always so good to hear from you.”

  “I hope you still feel that way after we talk.”

  “Oh, oh. Sounds serious. Are you and Daniel—”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Sandy’s voice thundered and broke off into a loud wail.

  “Good. Then anything else is much less important.”

  A pause followed before Sandy responded, “Thanks for saying that. It makes me feel better.” She cleared her throat. “Aunt Bobbi?”

  Bobbi remained silent.

  Sandy continued, “I was wondering if it is okay if we stopped by to see you.”

  “We? You and Daniel?”

  “And Uncle Harry.”

  “Uncle Harry? Who’s that?”

  “Harry Bronson. He’s Daniel’s uncle.”

  “Oh? Already meeting the family. Is it that serious?” Bobbi made sure her voice came out all sugar and spice.

  Sandy laughed. “We just want to run some ideas past you. That’s all.”

  “Of course. You know you are always welcome at my house.”

  * * *

  Half-an-hour later, a table in the family den was filled with a plate overflowing with an assortment of pastries and cookies. The percolator sent out the sweet aroma of fresh coffee. Various flavored creams sat in small piles around the coffee mugs.

  The doorbell rang, and Bobbi gave a glance around the room. All seemed in its proper place. She gave Luz, the downstairs maid, a nod.

  Luz acknowledged the signal and headed for the door. “Ms. Lazzarone is waiting for you.” She opened the door wider, allowing all three to enter.

  With arms outstretched, Bobbi strolled toward them. She deeply embraced Sandy and kissed her cheek. She gave Daniel a warm hug and shook hands with Bronson. “You must be that world-famous detective who always solves the cases.”

  Bronson’s face flushed. “Hardly world famous, and not all cases are solved, but I am Bronson. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  Bobbi’s face lit up. “A true gentleman. I am impressed. Now I see where Daniel gets his good manners.”

  Both Bronson and Daniel looked abashed.

  Bobbi’s smile widened. “And modest, too.”

  Bronson looked up and smiled, enjoying the aroma. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “Freshly made.” Bobbi led them toward the couch. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than a fresh cup of coffee. I’m so glad you enjoy it, too.” She nodded at Luz who immediately busied herself preparing two cups of coffee.

  “Sodas for the young ones,” Luz said. She opened the apartment sized refrigerator door located next to the wet bar and retrieved two sodas. “Cherry Coke for the lady and Vanilla Coke for the gentleman. I remember.” She handed everyone their drinks, walked out, and gently closed the door behind her.
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  Bobbi sipped her coffee and with a lacy napkin wiped the corners of her mouth. “Enough of this mystery. What’s going on?”

  Sandy sat up straighter. “Do you remember when Daniel and I were in the attic cleaning?”

  Bobbi nodded. “Of course.”

  “We found something up there.”

  Bobbi cocked her head.

  Sandy broke eye-contact as she cast her glance downward. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have come to you.”

  Bobbi wrapped her hand around Sandy’s. “Don’t fret. It’s okay. What’s important is that you’re here. Tell me, what did you find?”

  “We found some papers written by Victoria Sechrest.”

  “Oh, really? Victoria? As in the Victoria who disappeared shortly after her beloved grandfather died?”

  Sandy nodded.

  Bobbi frowned. “So the Lazzarone fable is true? Victoria really did exist, and she really wrote the letters?” She paused as though considering the facts. “And what did these letters say?”

  “She claims that all the money and power our family has accumulated has come as a result of extortion, theft, and even murder.” Sandy’s voice sounded small and timid.

  Daniel scooted toward her and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  Bobbi set her cup down and stood up. “So exactly what is it that you’re asking me to do?”

  “Help me to determine if what she wrote is the truth.”

  “In other words, you’re asking me to help you destroy this family’s reputation and wealth?”

  “Seems to me,” Bronson said, “that Sandy is only tryin’ to right the wrongs. I see nothin’ wrong with that. In fact, I find that an admirable trait.”

  Bobbi stopped her pacing and stared at Bronson. “Thank you for putting that in perspective.” She sat next to Sandy. “Yes, of course, I agree. But I would like to make one small request.”

  “And that is?” Daniel asked.

  “If you find that this is the truth, do whatever needs to be done discreetly. Return the land we stole. Return the money with interest. Right the wrongs, but do so without attracting attention. I don’t want to read about this in tomorrow’s headlines. Can you do that?” She directed the question at Sandy.

  Sandy looked at Bronson.

  “We can try,” Bronson said, “but no guarantees.”

  “I don’t like this ‘no guarantee,’ but I do understand.” Bobbi glared at Bronson, and then turned her attention back to Sandy. “I’m going to approach Papa Lazzaroni. See what his take is on this.”

  Sandy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

  Bobbi half-smiled and half-frowned. “Sandy, darling, you know everything in this family goes by him first. You should have realized that I would inform him of this new development.”

  Sandy nodded.

  “Then you know that I can’t give consent to this until Papa Lazzaroni gives his approval.”

  Once again, Sandy nodded. “I understand.”

  Bobbi squeezed Sandy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll convince him how important this is to you and to me, too.” She stood. “While I talk to him, why don’t you all visit your cousin, Pablo. Ever since he was little, he has been interested in the family history. Maybe he can shed some light on the subject.”

  Sandy frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Bobbi asked.

  “Pablo is a bit on the weird side. I don’t feel comfortable around him.”

  Bobbi smiled. “Can’t argue with that. He may be weird, but he’s as gentle as a lamb. Take Daniel and Bronson with you. That should make you feel better.”

  Chapter 14

  Pablo’s house reminded Bronson of the European castles featured in brochures and history books. Its gray façade along with its two-story turrets gave the place an eerie atmosphere making it seem that this palace belonged to an era long past.

  As they approached the tall, ornately carved oak doors, Bronson noticed that instead of an ordinary doorbell, the doors sported a lion’s head knocker. That figured. This Pablo must be quite the character.

  Bronson knocked and the maid, a rather attractive woman, possibly in her early twenties, answered the door. “Master Lazzarone is waiting for you. Please follow me.”

  She led them down a hallway with pedestals topped with vases and artificial flowers placed in strategic locations. They passed decorated rooms filled with leather couches and bookshelves.

  She opened the door to a library lined with books from top to bottom. In the center of the room sat two antique-looking love seats and a wooden desk fit for a king.

  A man, much younger than Bronson expected sat behind the desk. “Hey, Sandy.” He looked at Daniel. “Hey, Dude, how ya doing?” He remained sitting down.

  Bronson stared at him. Someone who lived in a castle like this certainly shouldn’t be so rough around the edges. Was he putting on an act? Why would he? He seemed to be in his mid-thirties but sounded more like a teenager trying to impress others with his look-at-me.-I’m cool-attitude.

  “Hi, Cousin,” Sandy said. “This is Bronson, Daniel’s uncle.”

  Pablo barely glanced at Bronson. “What’s up?”

  Bronson considered offering him his hand but knew that would be a wasted gesture. He simply nodded.

  Pablo shot to his feet and pounded the desktop with the palm of his hands. “So, Aunt Bobbi tells me you found a letter written by Victoria. The Victoria. The missing Victoria. The probably killed by the family Victoria. That Victoria, and that’s like real cool, you know? I want details, you hear? Details.” He walked around his desk and flopped down on one of the couches. “Sit. Sit.” He patted the cushion.

  Even before sitting down, Sandy began talking. “The letters claim that—”

  Bronson cleared his throat. “What Sandy wants to find out is what you know about the letters and about Victoria. Is it possible that such letters exist, and what do we know about Victoria? Especially her mental state.”

  Pablo stared at him wide-eyed. “Dude. That’s heavy.”

  “What can I say?” Two could play the game. “That’s the way it goes.” Bronson sat on the couch facing him.

  Pablo let out a ha-ha sound that sounded less than amusing. “Ask away.”

  Both Daniel and Sandy turned to look at Bronson. He took the hint and asked, “What do you know about Victoria?”

  “We know she was Great-Great-Grandpa’s favorite. Why? I dunno.” He raised up two fingers. “Two, legends say she had brains. Who knows? Maybe that’s what ol’ man Lazzarone liked about her.” He raised a third finger. “Three, the stories say that on the day he kicked the bucket, him and Victoria talked, like in secret, you know?” Another finger went up. “Four, she disappeared. No one ever found where she went or why. That’s all there is to the story.”

  “Her body was never found?” Daniel asked.

  Pablo took his time while studying Daniel. “Dude, I never said she was kidnapped or chopped up.”

  “But she could have been.” Sandy bit her lip when she saw the look of disbelief on Pablo’s face. “Not chopped up, I mean. Maybe kidnapped. Or killed. With a knife. Or a gun. Just not chopped up.” She cleared her throat. “Maybe she knew something that put her in danger.”

  “Ahh.” Pablo threw his head back. “You’re talking about them letters.”

  “Tell us what you know about the letters,” Bronson said.

  “It’s all a legend, man. No facts.” Pablo leaned back on the couch and yawned, apparently bored with the conversation.

  “I love legends. Let’s hear it.” Bronson leaned forward, his whole body focused on Pablo.

  Pablo squirmed and sat up straighter. “Like she disappears, you know?”

  Bronson nodded.

  “No one knows why. Poof! She vanished. Couple of days later, her boyfriend gets this letter. He shows it around. Letter says she was afraid. He wants to help her, but he doesn’t know how. Nobody knows where she is. They say he got two more letters, but that’s folks talking, you
know?”

  “What else did the letters say?” Bronson asked.

  Pablo shrugged. “Letter says that most folks in the town are like possessed. You know, by the devil. The town folks, Victoria says, are thieves and killers. She can prove it, she says. She has a book that lists all of the bad people by name. But, like you know, these folks were good, decent folks. Her story was full of—what you call it? Loopholes? And that’s why everyone started saying she was Looney Tunes.”

  “That’s all the letters said?”

  “Dunno. Never read them. I only know what others tell me.” Pablo scratched his head. “Wait. Wait. I do know more. The rest of the letters are like mushy, you know? She tells her boyfriend she wants to meet at the same spot they always met.”

  “Any idea where that was?”

  “Ask the Hermit.”

  “Who?” Sandy and Daniel asked in unison.

  “The Hermit, man. Don’t you know about him?”

  Sandy shook her head.

  “He’s Aunt Bobbi’s older brother.”

  Sandy’s eyebrows shot to her hairline, and her eyes widened. “I never knew she had a brother.”

  Pablo looked away and then looked Sandy over, holding her at bay with his rich brown, evaluating eyes. “Well, yeah, he’s like the black sheep of the family, you know? We don’t talk about him. Still, he’s the king of the secret. So everyone says.”

  “Where can we find him?” Bronson asked.

  “If you find Sechrest Falls, you find the Hermit. Only fool to be still living in that junked up town.”

  * * *

  Pablo waited until he saw Bronson, Sandy, and Daniel pull out of his driveway before he grabbed his cell. He punched Number 1, Aunt Bobbi’s number, always number one.

  “Speak,” Bobbi said.

  Pablo’s smile stretched across his face. “I did it, man. I’m sure those fools will be heading to Sechrest Falls real soon. They’ll make the Hermit squeal until he reveals where that Ledger is. Once they have it in their grubby little paws, I’ll be there to destroy it and them, too.”