Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (9 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Family

Ralph was stunned and numb, to say the least, to discover the secret life, bank accounts, and safe deposit boxes of his wife. His girlfriend wasn’t. She had already hacked Dotty’s email account, which was filled with salacious exchanges between her and Sam about their sexual romps. They also included notes on her prosperous endeavors with the tabloids.

Before she could download or copy most of the material though, Elsa, with legal authorization from the Los Angeles District Attorney’s office, through Detective Goldman, locked and encrypted the account.

The slightly more than two million dollars in Dotty’s accounts was motive enough to keep Ralph as a “person of interest” high on the list.

Moreover, his newly identified girlfriend, Celia Hammond, had been discovered by the IT forensic investigator after her email hacking and promptly added to the suspects list.

Ralph was confused, disturbed, and shocked at each new revelation about his wife.

“Who was this person I was married to all these years? I wonder if she found out about Celia?” Silently asking himself.

He felt the pain of loss with an extra helping of guilt for cheating on Dotty.

“I didn’t start this. It was she who pursued me,” he tried to convince himself.

“What the hell do I need with a young college girl!”

“If only she hadn’t been so damn sweet, smart, and fucking sexy as hell with that hot little body. God the sex with that hot, wild creature was hot. How do I admit any of this without looking like the bad guy? What if Brit finds out? She’ll never speak to me again.” Now worrying about his and Dotty’s daughter Brit.

“My daughter means the world to me. Maybe I should tell her first? Try to explain how it happened.” Rolling over in his head a variety of paths to take.

Criminal Justice/Forensics UCLA senior Celia Hammond had met Ralph on a windy, rainy day while at a coffee shop. He said hello after she smiled at the nice looking older man.

She had always been attracted to older men as a young woman. Losing her father at 10 ten years old had a lot to do with it.

Celia had walked out to find a flat tire after leaving the coffee shop. Standing in the pouring rain while figuring out what to do, she was startled by the offer of assistance from the good looking man in the coffee shop.

“Hey there! What a bummer. Can I help you with that?” he offered.

“Oh, OK! I was just trying to figure out if I should ring AAA or try to do it myself.” Knowing she didn’t have the ability to change even a light bulb in this rain, let alone a tire.

“If you have a spare, I think I can help you with that. I’m pretty sure I can change that for you in no time.” He kept asking himself why was he doing this? He loved his wife.

“That would be terrific. Only if you are sure it’s no problem for you in this rain and all, and if you let me buy you a coffee afterwards.” Slyly strategizing as to how she was going to get this sweet gentleman, who’d come to her rescue, into bed.

Ralph would later confide in a friend, “She’s like a wild tiger in the sack. With a tongue that’s as wicked as a circus whip in a lion’s cage!” Bragging about his newly found sexual playmate.

“You lucky bastard! Does she have any horny friends?” his buddy asked, half joking and half hoping.

And so Ralph began his clandestine affair with the UCLA college senior.

Celia wanted to know all about Dotty after her death. She hacked into Dotty’s email and bank accounts. That’s when she discovered how much money she had been hiding from Ralph.

“So, she’s screwing the boss. But, I wonder where all of that money came from. Definitely not from waitressing!” She contemplated the possibilities.

“I can’t believe she carried on this whole other life without me knowing anything about it. I mean she was my wife dammit!” moaned Ralph to Rocco.

“That’s usually the case, sir, I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Rocco replied.

“But after 25 years, you’d think I’d have noticed something out of place.”

“Did she know about your little secret?” Rocco dropped the unspoken “affair bomb.”

“What are you talking about?” Ralph asked, looking surprised and nervous.

“We are talking about your hot little college girlfriend. Save the act, we know all about her and her slick computer skills. So, you knew about your wife’s millions stashed away?” Elsa leaned over and asked.

“Yes, but only after Celia discovered it and told me about it. Along with the fact that my wife had been cheating on me with that son of a bitch boss of hers!”

“Explain to us what the plan was, Ralph. It’s OK, we know more than you think. Was the plan “Knock off Dotty, collect the money, and live happily ever after your hot little young piece of ass? Was that it?” Elsa let him have it.

“To begin with, I only met Celia four months ago. She was the one who came after me. I had never cheated on my wife before. I loved Dotty,” Ralph pleaded to the two investigators.

“I could have never, ever harmed my wife. Not for all the money in the world.” Ralph broke down into tears. Sobbing uncontrollably.

“Sure, bud, they all say that. Until they are caught,” Rocco tells Ralph.

“And save the teary eye act. This is Hollywood and you would never make it as an actor in this town,” Elsa spewed out as a follow up to the “good cop, bad cop” routine.

“One thing is for sure, Mister, I’ll nail Dotty’s murderer. That you can take to the bank! I have a personal stake in this matter. That’s all for now. And don’t plan on leaving town with Miss Tiger Love. That’s all for now. I’ll be in touch,” Rocco said sternly.

“I’ll be around. Don’t worry.” Ralph said while appearing beaten down.

Rocco could tell the man was clearly in sincere mourning.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Stranger

A few weeks prior to Dotty’s murder, the well-dressed man in the tailored gray suit who had been hanging about the diner showed up at Dotty’s home.

Her daughter, Brit, a 21-year-old student at UCLA, was studying at home when the doorbell chimed.

“Who is that? It’s the middle of the day.” Thinking, as she peered through the door’s peephole.

“May I help you?” she asked

“Is Mrs. Dotty Henderson at home?” the distinguished gentleman asked.

“Who would like to know, and for what?”

“It’s very important that I speak with her. If she’s not home, could I find her at her place of employment, Schwab’s?” he asked.

“How do you know where she works and what is this regarding? I’m her daughter and I handle all of her business affairs,” Brit lied.

“Well then, may I speak to you, Miss? It is regarding a rather personal matter. I would be glad to speak to you out here if you are uncomfortable allowing me inside.”

“No, its fine, my boyfriend is upstairs, and as you can see, you are on camera.” He seemed professional enough she thought.

“Please, come in.” She extended an invitation to the well dressed, gray-haired gentleman.

Brit directed him to take a seat in the living room as the composed man placed his expensive brown leather briefcase on his lap.

“Mark, I’ll be right up after I speak to this gentleman about some business with mom!” She yelled towards the staircase as a back up to her pretense of not being home alone.

“Just what kind of personal matter is it, sir?” she asked the man.

“I’ll get straight to the point. I am an attorney for a client searching for a potentially lost relative. We have substantial evidence that has led us to believe that this person may be your mother, Mrs. Dotty Henderson. There is one final step left to conclude the process: we will have to verify our search through DNA testing.” Hoping that his explanation was short and to the point.

“Whoa! Who is this person you work for? We’re not going to allow some stranger to just walk into our lives and turn over my mother’s DNA. That’s kind of crazy! That is also a gross invasion of privacy! Look mister, I really don’t have time for this. Are you sure it is my mother you are looking for? Dotty Henderson? We are unaware of any lost relatives.” Brit sounded defensive, yet curious.

“We are almost sure. We have been looking for a very long time. It’s probably better that her daughter breaks the news to her anyway. Just in case the final step proves that she isn’t who we are searching for. It would be a terrible thing for this to come from a stranger and end in disappointment. Does your mother have any information on her biological parents? It is not my intention to create any anxiety for Mrs. Henderson. I will add though, the outcome will determine the legal heir of a potential fortune in inheritance. I must stress once more that this can only be verified with DNA testing as a final step.” He tried to make himself as clear as possible.

“Right. Who would do the testing? Where, and how? Why have we not heard anything regarding this before? No letter, nothing? You must acknowledge that this is surprising and very strange. What do you mean by information on her biological parents?”

“Your mother does know that she was adopted? The DNA sample can be accomplished by a simple test. I have one with me that I can leave for your mother.” The stranger pulled an unopened DNA sample test kit from his briefcase. “We prefer to make contact in person with our clients when dealing with such delicate matters. As I indicated earlier, we have been conducting this search for a very long time. Only recently did our search point us in the direction of your mother. We do realize this can be quite a shock to people. We also realize that your mother may not have a complete understanding of her background. That is an emotional endeavor for anyone. We respect that.” The man demonstrated a sense of delicacy while explaining to Brit as much as he could.

“This is a lot to take in out of the blue, sir,” Brit replied, trying to hide her reaction to the jaw-dropping news that her mother had been adopted. If her mother knew, she had never told her about it.

“No one was sure that your mother even existed until an old document surfaced recently. Before that, we were unsure who we were searching for,” he shared.

“How much of an inheritance are we talking about? And from who?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that I am not at liberty to answer either of those questions until we’ve concluded our last verification step of DNA testing. Thank you for your time, Ms. Henderson. I hope this has not been to unsettling for you. I will leave the kit for you along with my card and contact information. Please take some time to decide on how you and your mother would like to proceed.” The stranger rose to excuse himself.

“Yes, thank you, I will. I’ll have to think about this before addressing it to my mother and father. It would be awful to put them through this and it turned out to be a disappointment.” Brit escorted the gentleman to the door.

Britt closed the door behind her, leaned backwards against it, and stared up at the ceiling in disbelief.

“That was weird and incredible. I don’t know what to think? I wonder how much money he is talking about? Thousands maybe? But what kind of person can afford a private attorney to conduct a search for years? That sounds like they are very rich.” Thinking to herself.

“But what if it turns out that mom is not the person? It would be devastating to put her and dad through this. It’d be like, believing you’ve won the lottery then being told that a mistake had been made. No … I’ll wait, until I’ve gathered more information on my own. I need to speak with Aunt Marjorie before doing anything.” Laying out a follow-up plan in her mind.

Brit Henderson had taken nothing in her physical appearance from her mother. She had been kissed with the good fortune of garnering the good-looking genes of her biological grandmother, and the handsomeness of her father Ralph. This lucky combination made for a stunning young beauty with female endowments to rival any starlet in town. Born with an independent nature and a high level of intelligence, she never needed much guidance from her mother. She had been spared the hard-edged view of the world her mother had gone through life with. An edge Dotty seemed to have been born with.

Make no mistake, this young woman carried with her cool, calculating manipulation skills. But hers had been polished with a different stone versus Dotty’s. Brit’s came from growing up as the beauty of the local school, thus placing her in an orbit where “how much money your family had” didn’t matter. She was sought after by the boys, and later by young men, and, at times, by their fathers.

Squarely focused on her studies at UCLA, she had no doubt about her future and about eventually acquiring the tools needed for her to take what she wanted from the world. Whatever, and whoever, that may be. She didn’t bat an eyelid when she intercepted the private representative of whoever it was inquiring about her mother.

Even at 21 years of age, Brit exuded an air of self-confidence that would have been admirable in most 35 year olds. It came naturally to her. A characteristic that unnerved people much older and experienced than she.

Later that evening, she had light heartedly asked her mother a few questions about her past.

“Mom, do you have any relatives you might have lost contact with that you can remember? And were any of them rich? And who was adopted?”

“No to the first question. Mom and Dad had no relatives except Aunt Marjorie that I know of. They lost most of their family before I was born in the Great Depression. They had it very tough you know,” Dotty replied.

“Yes, I’ve heard that story from you a thousand times.” Smiling to her mother.

“And no to the second question about unknown rich relatives. Trust me, dear, if they were rich, I wouldn’t have lost contact with them!” They both shared a laugh over Dotty’s answer. “And If someone had been adopted, I would have known. So, no to your third question,” she answered without hesitation.

Brit stored the information and worked over in her mind who this strange man might be, and what exactly was he after, beyond what was stated. She decided to start with a visit to her aged Aunt Marjorie.

* * *

Fallen, rustling leaves signaled the changing seasons. The morning air was crisp and breezy with bright sunshine. One could hear the crunch of dry, withered leaves underfoot as they walked down the street. The old lady’s tiny cottage was on a cul de sac in the flats below the Los Feliz Hills. The street was quiet, except for the birds and crunching leaves. It was exactly as it must have looked in the 1940’s. Not much had changed. All the little bungalows looked as they had when they were first built. The only discernible difference was the model of cars lining the quaint street. This was a rather comforting feeling considering an ever changing metropolis like Los Angeles.

“There it is, 1447 Crestwood. It looks like she might be home. I thought about calling ahead, but she rarely answered the phone these days,” Brit thought.

“Shades are up, car parked in the driveway. I’ll give it a shot. I wonder if she will remember me? Haven’t seen her in awhile.”

Brit lightly knocked on the door while still weighing in her mind how to approach the delicate subject of her mother’s birth and past.

She heard faint footsteps stir inside, coming closer as they became slightly louder. A few minutes later she was startled to see a small set of little eyes framed by white hair peering through a sliver of pulled back white lace curtains, framing the glass panels on the side of the door.

“Yes?” a faint elderly voice spoke.

Brit was startled again when the voice appeared to come out of what seemed like the side of the wall. It was a small speakeasy, popular prior to intercoms back in the day.

“Hello, Aunt Marjorie, it’s Brit, Dotty’s daughter. I’ve come to visit. I hope you don’t mind me popping in unannounced?”

“Dotty’s daughter? Well of course, you come right in. I’ll open the door. Just a minute dear” was the reply.

Brit heard the old lady fumble, switch, and unlatch what seemed like four locks and a deadbolt. The multiple clicking and clocking noise that emanated from inside came across as serious security.

As the old lady slowly pried the door open, she peeped around to look at Brit, then opened up with a big smile and open arms.

“Come in, dear, come in! What a pleasant surprise! My, my, my, you have grown up so beautifully. I don’t know why, but it seems like yesterday that you were such a little thing,” Aunt Marjorie told her. She hobbled on a cane to an overstuffed chair near the fireplace while swaying her right hand behind her in a motion for Brit to take a seat in a chair across from the fireplace.

“Can I offer you some tea or coffee, dear?”

“No ma’am. I was just thinking about you the other day and thought I should come by and give you a big hug. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“Isn’t that nice. How is your mother, dear? She pops in on me every so often.”

“She doing just fine. Aunt Marjorie, I wanted to ask you a few questions about mom’s side of the family, and if there were any adoptions?”

The old woman’s eyes and posture perked up and the inviting smile slowly faded into a look of suspense.

“What is it you want to know? Why the sudden interest?”

“I’m doing a project at my university on family histories and I’m trying to put ours together.” Brit tried to be discreet about her intentions.

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. Besides, us old folks just don’t talk much about the past. Some things are better left behind.”

“Was there something bad that happened?” She tried to pry something, anything out of her old aunt.

“I am getting older, Aunt, and I have a little interest in knowing more about my family history … curious, you might say.” Brit disguised her answer as a weak plea.

“I see. Does your mother share your interest?”

“Not quite. In fact, she seems too busy to really give it any thought.”

“You know your grandparents’ people died during the War. And before that, we all suffered greatly during the Great Depression. It was a terrible thing.” Her old aunt repeated the same line her mother had told her a thousand times.

“We all had a very difficult time. That darn War and all. Oh, for heaven’s sake, I just don’t like talking about it.” Hoping the young girl would take a hint and leave well enough alone.

Aunt Marjorie had a habit of cocking her head to one side while glancing at you with one eyebrow arched high. It was a look full of dramatic slyness.

With her little shawl wrapped around her, she looked like Norman Rockwell’s model for the ultimate grandma sitting by the fire.

Brit had a gut feeling Aunt Marjorie had been anything but a sweet ol’ grandma.

“But, aren’t there any photos of my grandparents, or their people?” Brit asked.

“Everything was lost in a fire years and years ago,” the aunt replied.

“Well, auntie, thank you anyway. It’s just that I get so sad when I think that I will have nothing to say about my family when my children come along.” Displaying her poor little niece look.

“So, you said this information was just for you and your school? I do understand your curiosity. It’s human nature,” she said with a hint of sympathy.

“Of course, you know that I would treasure anything you would share with me.” Brit begged.

“There is something I can tell you. But you know how much we like our privacy in this family. Just remember that.” The aunt talked in a low voice.

“Well, I have some papers locked away that are to go to your mother or you after I pass. It has some information about your grandparents. You mustn’t tell anyone about this. Not even your mother. These documents are to be seen only after my death. There are things in them that I swore never to divulge to anyone, ever.”

“Is it something bad?”

“It depends on who’s reading them. It could be good; it could be bad. I can’t say any more than that.”

“Jesus! It’s like talking to the Riddler from Batman!” Brit thought to herself in frustration.