Hidden Heritage (25 page)

“But she didn't tell him where the real map was located.”

“No. Of course not. She was simply stringing him along. It was a trick to keep him coming over every Sunday. She wanted total control over him. “

Dimon was piecing everything together as fast as I was. Maria didn't really understand about the importance of the map, and Victor did.

“I told Estelle because I was just fit to be tied. He belonged here with me on Sundays. He worked hard during the week. He should have gone to church with me and then spent a lazy afternoon. Estelle told Hugh. Then Hugh joked about it to some of the men in the feedyard. Called Victor ‘Old MapQuest.'”

“And that's when things started going wrong,” Dimon said.

“A couple of men showed up one day, and they took the map seriously. Very, very seriously. They asked Victor about it. They had worked at the feedyard about a year ago until Bart ran them off. When they came asking questions, Victor told them it was none of their business. He made them leave and told Hugh to shut up and tend to his job. Victor told me about it after he got home that night. He was mad at Hugh. Said he gossiped like some old woman.”

She broke down again. I went to the kitchen and got her a drink of water.

“I didn't meet them until Victor's funeral. They told Hugh one of them had married a second cousin of one of my aunts. But I have never heard of this woman. There were all kinds of people at the funeral that I've never met. Distant Diaz cousins.”

“These are men who know how to extract information,” Dimon said. “Hugh is lucky they didn't include him in their inquisition.”

She dabbed at her swollen eyes with a tissue. “We could have lived well if Francesca would have agreed to selling come of the compound land. But no, she had to keep everything intact. Why? Why? The line would die out in another generation because Cecilia will become a nun and George doesn't have the brains to manage it.”

A car pulled up and parked beside my Tahoe. Hugh and Estelle Simpson came through the door.

Hugh looked miserable. Like he was practicing for prison. “God, I never intended for all this to happen. If there is any way my testimony would put those bastards behind bars. Any way at all.”

Dimon looked at him coldly. “Oh don't worry, we are going to bring you in for questioning. We'll find a way.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Dimon came back to the house with us. Playing the gracious winner, I tried to talk him into spending the night. He declined saying the drive time would do him good as he needed to think about all the ramifications of the map. The evening was still and the air had cooled a little. He was an awkward man and seemed uncomfortable with accepting our hospitality.

“At least don't go on an empty stomach. Let us feed you first.”

He turned down a second home brew and sensibly switched to iced tea as we sat on the patio poring over the case.

“I called the office on my way over here. When my agents learned of Hugh Simpson's involvement, they were able to get more information from those men.”

“Why would they think they would benefit by getting ahold of that map?”

“I think they planned to kill Victor all along, just not in such a spectacular way and only after he told them where the map was located. I'm positive they would have started pressuring Maria after things died down. Which they never did, of course. Die down, that is.” His voice trailed off.

“Neither of them looked like he could think his way out of a paper bag.”

“They had a half-baked plan. But it was just for getting the land and their sights were just set on Roswell County. First step was finding out where this map was located. They killed Victor before they got any information and then they zeroed in on Francesca. With Victor and Francesca out of the way, they planned to convince Maria there was a distant cousin relationship. She's the kind to turn toward family. Since she had no children.”

“Especially with Hugh and Estelle out of the picture. Do you think they planned to kill them, too?”

“Don't know. The stakes were really high. It wouldn't surprise me.”

Shadows were deepening, but no one wanted to move inside. Dimon set his glass on the table and checked his watch. “But Maria wouldn't have any money. All she would have is land.”

“No doubt they would want to sell the land at once,” Keith said. “I can't imagine they would want to live out here and farm it.”

I grinned. “Who could they sell it to? Without a clear title, no farmer would risk buying it. It's against the law for big corporations to buy Kansas land. Most of the men involved with family corporations out here are pretty savvy. They would know they can't plant irrigated crops because the government won't allow new wells.”

“Those damned water rights. My God, what a mess. Well. I'd better get a move on.” Dimon stood and shook Keith's hand.

“About that regional center…” Keith said.

Dimon stopped, but he didn't look back. “Yeah. Well, it's still on the drawing board. As things stand now, just keep on as you always have done.”

***

I called Josie the day after Dimon left. I told her about all the strange directions the case had taken. There was a short intake of breath.

“I've missed you,” she said. “It's been a while since we've really talked. I'll be out there before sundown tomorrow.”

***

Maybe I was deluded, but it seemed to me like the weather was gentling down. Just a hint of cooler times to come. A hint that the world would straighten out. I had fixed tea. There was a plate of ladylike sandwiches in the refrigerator. Keith was to pick up Sam and go to Maybelline's for supper.

That evening she drove up the lane and parked. Arm in arm we walked over to the patio. We talked and cried together.

Josie stretched out on the recliner with Tosca on her lap. We watched fireflies. I couldn't see her face, but I could hear the sorrow in her voice when we talked about Francesca's death.

“About me and Tom,” she said. She cleared her throat.

“I didn't ask. You don't have to explain.”

“It's over. Before we had to face any of the problems. I'm the one who broke it off and I think he was glad.”

“You would have made the ideal couple.”

“No. No. It wouldn't have worked. Remember that song Keith taught me one of the times I was out here? The one about following someone to Texas? Then somewhere else. And another place after that.” She hummed a little of it.

“‘Elusive Dreams.' That's the name of it.”

“That's Tom, Lottie. He's an old-fashioned cowboy. A drifter. Keith doesn't want to admit it and his sisters sure as hell don't want to.”

Riled, I spilled some of my tea. “That's
so
not right. He's highly educated and makes a small fortune compared to most of the people around here. You make it sound like he's an indigent bum.”

“I didn't say that. I said he was a drifter. You forget I'm a psychologist, Lottie. I know all the signs. He will always be packing up and leaving. Always. And if I wanted any kind of a life with him, I would have to do the same. I'm not willing to live like that. I need more structure.” She tickled Tosca's tummy. “And so does my dog.”

“I will need some time to think that over. It's hard for me to see Tom that way. I guess I've bought into his sisters' assessment. That he's wonderful and perfect and the ideal man for any woman.”

“Some of that is right. He is quite wonderful.” Her face was shadowed in the deepening twilight, but I could hear the catch in her voice.

“But it wouldn't work?”

“No, it would never work.” Abruptly she changed the subject. “Living out here as you do I don't know where you found the time to make so many friends. A lot of people called or came by to ask about you. Even Old Man Snyder.”

My heart squeezed. Another memory. A dream. A dangerous and unbearable dream. “He…he…was all right?”

“Yes. Why would he not be? In fact, he brought you some flowers. Some snapdragons. He said he picked them from his own garden. I put them in a vase in your bedroom.”

“Did he stay and visit with you? Did you two fiddle together?”

“No. He simply dropped off the flowers and left.”

A burden dropped. One I hadn't know I was carrying. It had been a dream. That's all. He had not taken my place. He was fine. Just fine. And would fiddle again. Thank God. He would take up that battered old fiddle again in heaven or hell or anywhere he had a mind to. And drift in and out of our lives at will.

“Sometimes I envy your life, Josie. You only have to answer to Tosca. Sometimes I feel like I'm riding a carousel and can't get off.”

“That's a lifestyle choice, sister dear. And a damned stupid one. I've been waiting for you to cry uncle. You have two jobs. You can only handle one. Make a choice.”

***

Jane Jordan came to our house a couple of nights later. Angie and Josie had gone to Hays to shop and I knew Jane was grateful for a chance to talk with me in private. She carried the rolled up Klan poster in one hand and the cat collar in the other.

“I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. “

“How did you find out?”

“My grandfather told me. He came to the hospital to pick me up after Josie took me to the emergency room. I had the poster and kept it and the collar with me because I didn't want anyone thinking that hateful poster belonged to the Diaz family. We had already caused them enough harm. On the way home when Grandpa saw the poster, I thought he was going to faint dead away.”

“He recognized it.”

“He did. And then he told me. There was an uncle, years ago. It was like you said, a black sheep. A hateful man. Crazy, they thought. The family didn't want to have anything to do with him. So my people were involved after all.”

“So you know about what was done to Francesca?”

“Yes. Grandpa told me. And I can't sleep for thinking about that poor tortured old woman. The shock. The shock of it all when I handed her the collar and unrolled the poster.”

“Jane, it's over now.”

“I can't get it out of my mind. I just can't.”

“Let's put an end to this.”

I reached for the poster and started up the grill. I laid the poster on top. I took Jane's hand and together we watched it burn. After she left, I picked up the cat collar and put it on the shelf beside the madstone. I needed this visible reminder of a time when greed and religion had formed a bond with Satan.

***

Sam and Keith were outside the sheriff's office. They had just hoisted the flag. Tosca was cradled in Keith's arms. She gazed up, her tail held so stiffly I could have sworn she was trying for a salute.

Josie was staying a couple of extra days because we had to formalize our statements about the terrible day at the Diaz Ranch. For the last two nights Old Man Snyder had come over and he showed Josie some of his fingering techniques. But our favorite evening entertainment was watching Doe try to give Tosca three-legged lessons. She admired his abilities tremendously.

Josie looked at me and smiled. The unfurled flag swayed in the breeze. The red and white stripes brightened in the sun's rays. I looked lovingly at the two men who always gave me the feeling that all was right with world.

“Gonna be a scorcher,” Josie drawled.

I sprayed coffee and reached for a towel, turned and check to see if she was also “chawing tabaccy.” She tried to look innocent.

I had received a call yesterday from Francesca's lawyer saying there was going to be a formal reading of Francesca's will and he wanted all the named heirs present. I immediately thought of all those rare Spanish books. I suspected she had left them to me. Surely she wouldn't take a chance on leaving those books to anyone else.

“A reading of the will is only done in old movies,” Josie said. “I thought Elizabeth was Francesca's lawyer and she would never stand for such high drama.”

“Nope. She got canned. But you can come too. I asked, and he said you would have to stay in the background and not say anything. He said Francesca wanted it done this way.”

She rolled her eyes.

***

We drew up to the courthouse.

“That's Elizabeth's Volkswagen,” Josie said.

“So it is.” Bewildered, I pulled up beside it. “What is she doing here?”

“Don't know.”

“So what happens to all the Diaz land now?” Josie asked as we walked up the steps.

“Well, under Kansas law the wife inherits the husband's assets unless there is a will stating otherwise. Maria hasn't been guilty of any crime. Other than wanting to leave Kansas.”

Josie smiled.

“But I think it's going to be a mess.” It was more than a mess. Victor had died before Francesca and without owning much. I suspected there would some surprises in the will. And there was more than one lawyer present, including one sent by Dimon.

Realistically, there was no way in hell the United States government would allow any inheritor to bring all the High Plains to its knees over water rights.

Elizabeth nodded to us when we walked into the room.

“Hi. I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I'm Maria's lawyer,” my stepdaughter said. “And Cecilia's lawyer is a man who usually represents the Benedictine Convent.”

Josie and I exchanged glances. Why did any of these people need lawyers to hear a will read? And why in the world would Elizabeth consent to be Maria's lawyer?

Zola's uncle was plump and colorless with sandy hair and prissy lips. “I'm Albert Conifer. As the administrator for the estate of Francesca Diaz, I summoned you here for the reading of her last will and testament. I am quite pleased that she specified that it be done in just such a manner, because under the term of the former will which was made by her husband, now deceased, through a lawyer, now deceased, everything would have passed to Victor, now deceased.”

“Why are other lawyers here? It's not like we need these shysters running up the prices,” George Perez interrupted.

Conifer ignored him and pushed on. “There were an unusual series of requests in that will in addition to the bequests that are legally binding. It would be best to see how many of her wishes we can all voluntarily agree to. Before the court has to straighten all this out. If this goes well, I'll draw up a binding agreement. I'm going to start with the easiest one first. Lottie, she wanted you to have all the contents of her workroom. Apparently because you received training from her. Is that agreeable to you?”

I had no desire to become a healer. Yet I knew George and Cecilia would burn everything connected with Francesca's work. All the history. All the techniques and information. All the magnificent leather-bound books. It would be tragic. I swallowed hard and nodded that I agreed to accept the gift. At least I could continue getting the books translated and catalogue any processes contained therein.

There was always room for another out-building at Fiene's Folly. A wee witch workshop. What could it hurt?

“All right. Then let us proceed.”

I glanced at Maria and Cecilia. Both sat rigidly in their chairs. George looked scared. My stomach tightened. Conifer read straight through. He finally reached the end. And now for the two main issues. The entity known as Roswell County and land owned by the Loisel and Montoya families as specified in the map and deed located at the bottom of the well.”

Conifer peered over his glasses. “That map has been retrieved, I understand.”

“It has, sir.”

We turned to look at the attorney for the government.

“Very well.” Conifer looked directly at me and resumed the reading. “All the land owned by the Diaz family, both that known as Roswell County and all the other land designated in the map that has been passed down, I leave to my dear, dear friend, Lottie Albright, with the binding request that she continue to pursue my case against the United States government.”

I took a deep steadying breath, but I couldn't speak.

All hell broke loose.

Maria jumped to her feet. “That snake in the grass. That deceitful woman. As Victor's widow, I should have inherited everything. That vicious witch is leaving me with nothing. I wanted to sell the compound so I can afford to move somewhere else. After all the family is taken care of and George's children's educations provided for, I was going to establish a foundation to assist abused women.”