Lies Agreed Upon (21 page)

The old woman snickered to herself and nipped up the photo, replacing it swiftly with another. “Now here’s one taken in the grand salon with my momma. They used to clear the floor and use it for a ballroom when they had big parties, so that’s where my momma danced with my daddy all those years ago. The lower panes of those big windows were French doors that opened onto the Myrtle Court. My momma was already a widow in her
50s in this photo, but doesn’t she look lovely and elegant?” She smiled proudly, indicating a woman seated on a Louis XVI settee.

The stiffly erect woman, feet crossed and tucked primly under the hem of a black sack-coat dress, stared challengingly at the photographer. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and her thin brows were raised above intense eyes. The full-lipped mouth smiled in
secretive Mona Lisa amusement.

Behind
the seated woman, Rococo sofas and chairs in conversational groupings were set on oriental carpets that floated on an expanse of pale marble. The walls were adorned by the ubiquitous Moorish tiles at bottom and arched inset niches above. Each niche was framed by delicate double pillars with faux-marble capitals carved into tiered lace. Two tall, horseshoe-arch windows rose at the end of the room, framed by faux-marble columns with ornate oriental capitals.

Tess’s eye was caught by several portraits hung in the niches. She thought the one closest to the seated Elaine pictured a couple in clothing of the late
nineteenth century.

“Is that a painting of Antonio and Thérèse on the wall behind your mother, Miss D
onovan?” she asked. Miss Gloria frowned and snatched the photo close to her trembling nose.

“You’re right,” she answered
, squinting. “I forgot about that hateful paintin’. How those Cabreras used to stare down at us! You know, it was the kind of portrait where the eyes follow you and give you the heebie-jeebies. It’s another reason we liked to play outside,” she said with a wry smile, slipping the photo back into the album with its companions.

“What happened to it? I’d love to see how Antonio and Thérèse looked,” said Tess.

“Oh, the paintin’ is long gone, along with all that fancy furniture. It turned to ashes when the house burned in 1930.” The old woman shrugged off the vanished luxuries.

“Is there anything left, some ruin I could see if I went by there?” asked Tess.

“No, the house is all gone,” answered Gloria.

“It’s sad something beautiful is so completely erased,” mused Tess.

“Sad?” snorted Miss Gloria. “I was glad the whole place went up in flames, although we almost went up with it. You see, the day of the fire, we all came to Alhambra to prepare for Ben Cabrera’s 87
th
birthday bash: Armand and his boys, Momma, Dan and me, and old Ben. Even Ben’s colored help Paul Beauvoir and his son Sam came for the set-up. For Ben’s gala, Armand had invited a crowd, includin’ some real big-wigs in government and finance. But the guests weren’t expected for a few days yet.

“
Lucky for us, Momma had a big argument with Armand and Ben that same mornin’, and we left before the fire. But I’ll never forget the sight of that house burnin’.”

Tess was nonplussed. “But I thought you said you had left.”

“I’ll explain if you let me,” snapped Miss Gloria. “Momma and me were home that night after the squabble with Armand and Ben. Dan had gone out. He was 18, and Momma gave him his own car and let him stay out on his own. As usual, I was waitin’ up to hear about his adventures. We were close, even if I was younger and a girl. Dan taught me how to drive the car, shoot guns, and even smoke cigarettes and sip beer when Momma wasn’t lookin’. He’d let me borrow his car, and I’d tool around the back roads when I was just 14. Momma woulda had a fit if she ever knew.” The old lady cocked an eyebrow at Tess as if daring her to be shocked.

“It sounds like you were ahead of your time,” Tess replied on cue, and Miss Gloria gave a pleased little smile. “But what about the fire?”

“I’m gettin’ to it,” said the old lady, waving off the interruption. “I heard Dan’s car pull in near midnight. I’d been keepin’ watch for him after Momma sent me to bed. I dragged him into my bedroom to make him tell me about what he’d been up to. I remember how he stank of gasoline and sweat. ‘You need a good wash. You smell like you’ve been up to no good. So spill it,’ I remember sayin’. I figured he’d gone to meet his friends at the gas station like he usually did. They’d meet there and drive out in Dan’s car to the levee to drink home-brew and smoke. But that night, he went to the window and said, ‘Hush. Look at that, sis.’ He pointed, and I looked out and saw a big glow in the sky.”

“It was Alhambra burning,” guessed Tess.

“It was the only place in that direction big enough to make that blaze,” nodded the old woman. “I ran to get Momma outta bed. She stared at that fiery sky a minute, and then she grabbed her hat and coat and ran out to her big Packard. Well, of course, Dan and I ran after her and climbed in, and we just refused to get out until Momma had to take us along. We zoomed through the gates of Alhambra, and Momma jumped out and ordered us to stay by the car. Ashes and little burnin’ embers were drifting down like snow in hell. Momma ran toward the fire, and Dan and I stood by the car and watched the flames jus’ gobble up that mansion.

“
Finally, Momma came walkin’ back and ordered us to get back into our car. I can remember the stink of smoke and singed hair like it was yesterday. Dan asked her if the Cabreras had survived. ‘They’re safe and sound, and they can thank Sam Beauvoir. He woke up and smelled smoke. He and his father got everyone out. The devil loves his own,’ she told us.”

“Sam Beauvoir and his father saved the family? No wonder Sam said
Ben Cabrera left his father money for his loyal service,” murmured Tess.

“But no one could save the house,”
continued Miss Gloria. “The next day, we went to see it. It was just a smolderin’ shell by then, with the fancy fountains pokin’ up like stone flowers from the ashes. Later they pulled down the walls since they were in danger of fallin’. I think we forgot to even mark Ben’s birthday. It was a turnin’ point for the Cabreras, the end of their luck,” she nodded.

“But I guess there’s a little luck left for you since I have these photos so you can see how Alhambra once looked,” added Miss Gloria, and a sly smile slipped across her lips. She calmly offered another picture. “Now, here’s one in the garden with Momma, Dan and me taken in 1930, the same year as the fire. You can see Armand and his boys, and even old Ben.”

Tess reached eagerly for the image. This picture was taken in the garden looking back toward the house. The colonnaded first floor gallery was accessed by a wide flight of stone stairs. The foreground featured the same haughty Elaine and surly Dan and Gloria, only they were clearly older, with Dan now taller than his mother. Next to them was a good-looking middle-aged man in a dapper suit. Tess assumed he was Armand. A solemn boy held his left hand, the young Michael, Tess thought, while a serious teenager, presumably Alan, stood at his father’s right. The oldest brother Roman, Tess’s great-grandfather, had taken a step away in a statement of youthful independence; he stood with his hands on his hips and grinned boldly. Roman was a handsome young man, and his flash of white teeth and dimples reminded Tess of her grandfather’s portrait. Beside Roman was the elderly, but clearly recognizable, Ben Cabrera.

Ben was handsome still, only now it was a beauty of fine bones. Age had chiseled away flesh, hollowed cheeks, sculpted eye sockets and honed the nose to sharp cartilage. The clothes hung more loosely on a stooped frame, but one gnarled hand rested just as surely and lightly on Roman’s shoulder as it once had rested on young Louis.

“Who’s that in the background?” asked Tess, peering at the blurred image of a slim young man leaning against a column of the house’s lower gallery.

“Oh, that’s Eddie Roy,” replied Gloria dismissively. “I forgot he was in that picture.”

“Who is he?” Tess persisted.

“He’s just one of those strays old Ben was always rescuin’.
Once he retired from daily business, Ben kept busy with civic work, chairin’ do-good councils and fundraisin’ projects. He liked to help young men down on their luck—orphans, cripples, coloreds and such. He’d pressure Armand or my momma into givin’ some bum a ‘chance’ and even took some into his home. Armand called it kindhearted, but my momma said it was mush-brained to open your house to scum. Ben doted on that Eddie. He even gave him a Model A Ford!”

Miss Gloria sat staring at Eddie Roy’s vague image for a long moment. She looked up suddenly, and Tess almost leaned backward as if a hot wind exhaled from the old woman’s arid eyes and twisted lips.

“I used to call him ‘Ben’s golden boy’ ’cause of his hazel eyes and wavy blond hair,” the old woman sneered. “He was charmin’ when he wanted to be, but I knew the darkness behind his dazzle. He liked naughty whispers and nasty touches, but he was so careful you’d look silly makin’ a fuss. When Alhambra burned, he was missin’ at first, and I hoped he’d been consigned to hellfire. But no such luck. The next day Ben was weepin’ over the ashes, certain his protégé was gone. Then suddenly, Eddie Roy strolled up, smokin’ a cigarette, cool as you please. We always knew when Eddie Roy was around ’cause of the litter of nasty cigarette butts. He looked at the ruined house, laughed and flicked his butt into the ashes. ‘Well, at least I won’t have to worry about findin’ an ashtray,’ he said.”

“It doesn’t sound like he appreciated Ben’s concern for him,” agreed Tess
, but she was taken aback by Miss Gloria’s very passionate dislike. “Perhaps he was just immature.”

The old woman gave her a fierce look. “Immature, my foot,” she s
niffed. “A few months after this photo, we were invited to Alan’s birthday party at Alhambra. I was 14 years old, and all us young party guests were playin’ hide and seek in the gardens. I went runnin’ into the belvedere to hide, and there was Eddie Roy smokin’ a cigarette. ‘Hey, Miss Smarty Pants, lookin’ for a place to hide? Do you know about the secret locker?’ he asked. Well, I was curious. The Cabrera boys had never told me about it. He showed me how, if you pushed on a certain tile in the right end wall, a panel would open. Inside there was a little hidey-hole where the gardeners stored tools, fertilizer and such. I stepped inside, and he pushed the panel shut. It was pitch black in there, so I decided to come out pretty quick. But when I pushed on the panel, it wouldn’t budge.

“
I banged and shouted until I was hoarse, but no one came. I finally sat down in the rakes and spider webs and cried. I fell asleep for a bit, but I woke up all damp, and I realized I wet my pants. And I cried some more. Just then I heard voices, the panel opened, and my momma lifted me out.

“Eddie Roy claimed he didn’t know it would jam shut, and, besides, the Cabrera boys knew about the place. So, he
said he’d left with Ben, figurin’ I’d be found. But no one found me or cared I was missin’ until dinner time came, when Momma screamed at them,” Miss Gloria said, her eyes narrowed angrily. “After that, Eddie Roy liked to sneak up and whisper, ‘Hello again, Smarty Pants. Or should I call you Pissy Pants?’ Then he’d snicker at my red face.” 

Miss Gloria leaned back and her voice trembled in remembered rage.

“Such fury. There’s more to the story of Miss Gloria and the golden boy.”

“Ben insisted the hide-and-seek ‘incid
ent’ was a misunderstandin’,” sniffed the old woman. “But it was no surprise to me that, when old Ben dropped dead of a heart attack a bit later, Eddie Roy ran off with some of his cash and heirlooms.”

“You mean Eddie Roy robbed Ben?” exclaimed Tess. “Did anyone tell the police?”

“The police weren’t keen on investigatin’,” the old woman replied, with a dismissive shake of her head. “They prob’ly figured that if they looked too close at a rich old bachelor and a young hustler, it could be embarrassin’ for the family. The police watched Eddie Roy for awhile, but the stolen goods never turned up, and then he vanished. Momma said it was Divine payback for the mess Ben made all those years before.”

“Payback?” asked Tess.

“Well, didn’t you mark Eddie Roy’s last name?” demanded the old woman.

“Roy?” re
sponded a befuddled Tess.

“No, no. His full name was Edward Roy Haas.
You know about the bad blood between the Haas family and the great Ben Cabrera, don’t you?” asked Miss Gloria. A sneer twisted her thin lips.

“Yes, I’ve heard some stories. But how was Eddie Roy related to the Hass family? I got the impression they were
wealthy and well-respected. No one ever mentioned him,” Tess insisted.

“Well, of course, the Haas family wouldn’t talk about Eddie Roy. He was that crazy Mur
iel Haas’s son,” said Miss Gloria.

“I heard that Muriel Haas never married,” protested Tess.

“Don’t be simple-minded. You don’t need to be married to have a baby,” snorted the old woman. “Lord knows what kind would take advantage of a crazy woman like Muriel, but there’s nothin’ stops some male animals. Momma figured that, deep down, Ben felt guilty about Muriel. So, when he found her son in the gutter, he felt he had to help him. And maybe Eddie had soaked up enough of his mother’s rage against Ben that he figured Ben owed him.”

“Why didn’t the Haas family take care of Eddie?” asked Tess.