by Lois Winston
Naturally, she wore her pearl stud earrings. I watched her as she radiated beauty and charm, the Hostess Extraordinaire. My mother was happier than she had been since my father’s death, and it showed.
After we were seated and more champagne was poured, Lila stood and said, “Before we begin dinner, I would like to make a toast to the newlyweds, Richard and Victoria, even though I do not care for the manner in which they got married.”
She raised an eyebrow at her son, who smiled indulgently at his mother before he began his rebuttal.
“Now, Mom,” began Richard, “we were in Las Vegas; they were offering a half-off coupon at a chapel close by that included a free bottle of wine and...”
“...And, we couldn’t resist a bargain like that,” Vicki finished for him and kissed her new husband on the cheek.
“And while we’re talking about not caring for the manner of something,” Richard said, standing up and staring at me.
“There I am getting married, and my sister calls me on the phone to tell me she’s going after a killer! Ay, Chihuahua!”
“Hey, el stupido!” I replied loudly, forgetting I was supposed to be a lady and standing up myself. “I didn’t know you were getting married! You could tell someone! Besides…”
Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Even Tío was telling Abby about his hand injury the night I was kidnapped, and Frank was waggling his finger across the table toward me saying something I couldn’t hear over the din.
Lila picked up a fork and began hitting the side of the champagne flute until I thought it would break. Finally, everyone shut up and looked at her. Richard and I took our seats reluctantly. Mom forced a large smile on her face and stared all of us down.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please! It doesn’t matter where or how these two young people got married,” Lila said, as if she wasn’t the person who started the whole thing in the first place.
“What is important is they love each other and are married! We couldn’t be happier.” She lifted her champagne glass high and said in her best CEO voice, “To the newlyweds. We wish you joy, happiness and long life!”
“Y Bienvenido a la familia, Victoria” added Tío.
“Sí!,” Mom, Richard, and I repeated in unison to a blushing Victoria. “Bienvenido a la familia, Victoria.”
“Gracias,” she answered, with a heavy American accent. “Por nada!”
We all laughed, clinked glasses, and drained them dry. Guadalupe served the food and none too soon, judging by the alcohol consumption of the group. Tío hovered at the kitchen door, making sure every dish was to his satisfaction.
The night’s menu included a few of Tio’s specialties from when he was head chef at Las Mananita’s. The recipes were often written up in gourmet food magazines, along with pictures of my illustrious uncle.
I have all of them in a scrapbook I started in my early teens. Tío always made the ice cream the old-fashioned way, and the evening’s flavor was mango garnished with fresh spearmint leaves. I must have gained about six pounds.
By mutual consent—actually at Lila’s insistence—we didn’t discuss any of the details of the murders during the meal, but enjoyed the wonderful food, wine and each other’s company. After dinner, Lila announced coffee and brandy would be served in the family room, an absolute first.
Usually the family room was far too casual for such occasions, according to her. She preferred the quiet formality of the living room. Everyone who knew her noticed lately Lila was full of surprises. That’s my mom.
Only after settling in and drinking our fresh roasted decaf coffee, the only coffee ever served after eight p.m. in the house, did we begin to speak of the incidents that transpired recently.
“The part I don’t understand,” Frank said, as he turned to me after he settled down with his coffee in one of the barrel chairs, “was how you knew it was her? Mrs. Wyler had checked out. Her housekeeper gave her an ironclad alibi, for which she’ll be spending a lot of time thinking about in jail. Perjury is no small matter. But what made you suspect they were both lying?”
“It was the shoes,” I remarked taking a sip of the specially blended coffee.
“I remembered the night of the murder, when I found Tugger and brought him to my vet for a checkup, Ellen mentioned in passing it had just barely sprinkled in Palo Alto that night. Then a couple of days later, when I went to visit Mrs. Wyler, she offered to replace my boots ruined by the San Francisco storm and mentioned her shoes had been ruined in the same storm, too. Except she claimed she had been in Palo Alto all that evening…where it had only sprinkled.”
Frank stared at me in complete disbelief. “That was it? You chased your mother all the way up to San Francisco, interrupted Richard’s wedding, nearly gave me a heart attack, on something as flimsy as that? Maybe the lady got her feet wet from an overflowing sink, for God’s sake,” he challenged.
“She hasn’t been near a sink in years,” I replied and stuck out my tongue. “That’s what she has a housekeeper for, Frank. It was a lot of little things. Why did she demand I go to see her right after her husband was murdered? When I was there, why did she keep asking me again and again what I saw or heard?
“I remember she claimed it was because anything I knew might help the police. But that wasn’t it. It was because she wanted to make sure I hadn’t seen or heard her shoot her husband. She was already heading for a nervous breakdown.”
During this oration, I noticed I was beginning to use one of my mother’s annoying speech patterns. You know, where one word in nearly every damn sentence is emphasized. I tried not to panic about it but vowed I would seek psychiatric help as soon as possible. Richard interrupted my reverie.
“She probably would have shot you then and there if you had mentioned you had seen something,” Richard said.
“Richard!” Lila said, bringing her hand to her breast. “Don’t even say things like that jokingly. We were almost killed.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he said but winked at me.
“Another thing,” I was not pleased I had lost the focus of the group when I was coming to the climax of my story.
“Another thing was when Richard mentioned Wyler’s partner, Ernie Butler, went to a Stanford-Cal tailgate party that night. There wouldn’t have been a tailgate party during a downpour. In fact, they probably would have had to cancel the game. It didn’t smack me in the face then, but it nagged at me how different the weather was in San Francisco than here, something Mrs. Wyler didn’t count on.”
I noted with relief I had curbed my tendency for the emphasis patter. Maybe I didn’t have to see a shrink, after all.
“That’s right,” said John in an amazed voice. “I remember listening to a commentator say the same thing as I watched the game. I went to Berkeley, you know.” He smiled at me knowing I came from a Stanford family, Berkeley’s archrival.
“To sum it all up,” I said loudly, garnering the attention once more, “none of these things meant much to me at the time they were said, but I guess my subconscious paid attention.
Then Mrs. Wyler sent me the replacement boots, and it all came together. Everything revolved around wet shoes, and I knew Mrs. Wyler was in San Francisco that night killing her husband, not in Palo Alto.”
“She got rid of those boots, so it’s nice Richard got her confession on tape,” said Lila proudly.
“Well, yes,” Frank answered, “but she still had the murder weapon, and she did plenty of talking to the police when they took her into custody. And all along everybody thought it was the Wong woman,” he added, shaking his head.
I smiled but didn’t mention the fact my belief in Grace Wong’s innocence was what had spurred me on. I had a warm spot in my heart for the beautiful dancer who wanted her family to be together and was willing to do practically anything to make it happen. Maybe it was a fatal flaw, but I’ve seen worse.
Almost as if reading my thoughts, John said, “Grace Wong has a lot to thank you for, Lee.” He stood and poured himself
another cup of coffee from the carafe.
“You saved her from possibly going to jail, even though one of her brother’s eventually came forward and admitted she had been with him that night. She didn’t want to admit that because he’s an illegal. I think she would have gone to prison, rather than risk sending a member of her family back to China. He came forward, anyway.”
Vicki, who had been resting her head on Richard’s shoulder, commented, “How sad. Will he be sent back to China?” She sat upright, looking at the INS representative in our midst.
John remained standing as he spoke. “Once the brother came forward, he had to be detained until a hearing can be set regarding his status. Grace Wong has been arraigned and will have to stand trial as an accomplice in the trafficking of illegal aliens into the United States. Due to extenuating circumstances, she’ll probably serve a light sentence. She’s out on bail at the moment.”
“By ‘detained,’” I said, “you mean he’s sitting in jail?”
“But that’s horrible!” Lila exploded with outrage.
“I read somewhere a person might be in jail for up to two years awaiting a hearing and then still be sent back to the native country,” added Richard.
“Well, a good lawyer might speed up the process,” John responded. “A sponsor is another way to go. Personally, I wish we could take them all in, but we can’t,” he added.
“What’s going to happen to Yvette, Frank?” Lila asked. “Do you know?”
Frank looked down at his coffee cup for a moment. He, too, had known Mrs. Wyler since college and found this difficult.
“She’s retained one of Palo Alto’s best attorneys to defend her. She will be pleading temporary insanity for both the murders and the abduction of you two with intent to commit harm. I don’t say she won’t pay for it, but she’ll probably spend more time on a psychiatrist’s couch than in jail.”
“What he needs is really good legal counsel, Richard,” I said out loud. Everyone but Richard stared at me, puzzled.
Richard, obviously thinking along the same lines, smiled and said, “You mean Brother Wong.”
I nodded. “That’s something trust funds are good for, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’ve always said you had way too many clothes, and as for me, I’ve got a working wife now. I’ve got money to burn,” Richard proclaimed.
“While we’re at it, I think we ought to see Grace Wong has a good lawyer, too,” Vicki chimed in, her hat bobbing with each word she spoke.
Lila gazed down at nothing and finally spoke, “John, how long does it take for an illegal alien to become legal if they have a sponsor?”
John thought for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “I couldn’t say. There are a lot of variables. I know it makes a difference, a very big difference, especially if it’s a qualified sponsor. Why?”
Lila looked into the somber and earnest faces of her two children, no, make that three children.
“Because I think Discretionary Inquiries will become a qualified sponsor, that’s why. If Mister Wong can learn a little English, maybe we can finally have a clerical person who will stay for more than a few months. That should make Stanley happy.”
I leaned over and smothered her in an embrace. “Oh, Mom, what a great idea!”
“Liana, my hair, dear,” Lila said, pulling away and patting the sides of her coiffeur but smiling.
“I’ll speak with the Board tomorrow and put it into Mr. Thompson’s capable hands.”
“Yes!” I shouted, as the party began speaking animatedly to one another until Frank’s bass voice over road us all.
“All right, all right. If the rabble rousers wouldn’t mind calming down, I have a question to ask.”
He stood and took over the room much as if he was directing traffic on the street. “Liana,” he said standing over me. “Do I have your word you will never meddle again in police affairs that do not involve software piracy?”
Before I could answer, Abby stood up and pointed a finger at the chair beside hers.
“Frank, come here and sit down. You are to stop interfering in Liana’s life. She’s a big girl now. She can take care of herself.” She sat down, turned to the rest of us saying, “He does this all the time with Faith, as well. He can’t face the fact you both are grown up.”
Frank grinned. “Maybe Abby’s right. So, I will leave you alone,” he said and then added, “for tonight.” He sat down comically and everyone laughed.
The party broke up around eleven p.m. Abby and Frank were the first to leave followed by John, who took me aside in the hallway. We made dinner plans for the following night.
Tío, who had cooked all day and had an early morning at the animal shelter, went to bed after quick, but warm, farewells. Richard and Vicki began kissing at the door and continued as they walked to the car. Lila, ever the mother, reminded Richard to keep both hands on the wheel while he drove.
Guadalupe had gone home hours before with the promise of an extra day off for all her hard work, so it was just Mom and I. We straightened chairs, picked up glasses and, in general, tidied up.
Feeling like a real family for the first time since Dad’s death, we sat down on the sofa, kicked off our shoes and snuggled into feather down pillows. We lay our heads on the back of the sofa and stared up at the nothingness of the ceiling. After a few moments, Lila laughed softly.
“What, Mom?” I asked, turning my head toward her, as she still stared upward.
“I was thinking about the first time I ever laid eyes on your father. I knew then and there I wanted to marry him. They say that’s not the way it happens, but it did with me. I don’t know why I thought of that now but I did.”
My eyebrows arched in surprise. “You’re kidding. I never knew that.”
“Oh, yes. It was his last year in college, my first. It was November. I was with a friend, and we were shopping at the Stanford Track House on campus for Christmas presents.” She looked at me, and her face glowed with remembrance.
“We had just stepped outside the building when I saw him. He was coming around the track with several other young men. He and another boy were out in front, when the boy tripped and fell down. Roberto stopped running and helped him up. I remember thinking at the time what a kind thing that was to do and how it was going to cost him the race.” She played with the wedding ring on her finger before continuing.
“I somehow found myself standing next to the track fence watching him, from maybe three feet away, when he looked over, and we locked eyes. I’ll never forget that crooked smile and those dark, intense blue eyes.”
She turned and looked at me. “You have the same eyes, Liana. Every time I look at you, I see my Roberto in your eyes.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “It’s a bittersweet joy for me.”
I couldn’t speak, for fear of crying. She leaned back into the cushion again and went on. “He waved at me and helped his friend off the field. I thought I might never see him again. Later on that day, I found him waiting for me outside my English class. Roberto had somehow gotten my name and my complete class schedule in less than two hours. He was a born detective.”
“I never heard that story before,” I said in wonder.
“I never told it to anyone before. It was always very…personal. Besides, everyone likes to hear the story of how he proposed to me less than two months later on New Year’s Eve.”
I studied my mother’s face for a moment, while Lila stared up toward the ceiling. “Dad was the big love of your life, wasn’t he, Mom?” Lila didn’t answer but closed her eyes. “That’s really nice, Mom, really nice. I hope I have something like that some day.”
“You will, sweetheart. He’s out there waiting for you. Just don’t let what happened with Nicholas get in the way.”
I watched Lila’s face cloud over. Her body stiffened, and she sat upright.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“I remember who was with me that day. Yvette! She was with me every step of the way with
Roberto. Now that I think of it, I met her the same day, too, just a few hours before your father. Maybe that’s why I so stupidly fell into every trap she set. I didn’t want to see her as she really was. What a fool I’ve been.” She let out a deep sigh and put her hands over her face.
“I wouldn’t be so hard on myself, if I were you, Mom. I mean, when you think of it, you had a little bit more of Dad with you, as long as you and she were friends. It’s only natural not to want to let go of something like that when you love someone as much as you loved him.”
Mom dropped her hands and looked at me. “When did you get so smart?” She asked.
“Sometime within the last minute or so but don’t worry. It’ll probably go away just as fast as it came.”
Lila laughed. She leaned back again and fixed her eyes on a small crack in the ceiling. “I’ve decided to donate your father’s jeep to charity. It’s wasted sitting in the garage, and from what Mateo tells me, the SPCA could use the money.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s good, Mom. Dad would have liked that.”
“I know,” she murmured and then asked, “How’s that stupid cat of yours, by the way, what’s his name?”
“His name is Tugger, as you well know,” I replied, but with no recriminations. I put my head back on the pillows.
“And he’s just fine. He’s already 11-weeks old, you know, and got altered yesterday. I brought him home from the vet today.” I let out a mock sigh. “They grow up so fast.”
“So that means he’s carrying a slightly lighter load, huh?” asked Lila wickedly, grinning from ear to ear.
I raised my head and looked at her with wide eyes. “Why, Mother May I! You made a little joke...and an off-color one at that. When did this start?”
Lila raised her head and looked at me. “Maybe you’re just starting to get my jokes.”
We both giggled. A first.
“He’s actually quite cute and very personable. Tugger, I mean,” Lila said.
“Well, I didn’t think you meant John. He’s gained four pounds.”
“John?”
“No, Tugger.”
“Well, John’s cute, too, and pretty personable. Anything I should know?”