Baylin House (Cassandra Crowley Mystery) (31 page)

Cassie’s stomach began to growl as she drove from Baylin
House. She hoped Margaret and Hortensia had ordered something for themselves to
eat and were comfortable enough. She phoned their room to check on them.

Hortensia answered; no, they had not eaten yet. Margaret had
no cash and she was afraid to use credit cards with her name on them. “She is afraid
Mr. Fozzi will have some way to trace where the food is delivered.”

Cassie didn’t think so, but she understood the woman’s fear.
“I’ll bring something,” she told Hortensia.

She found a Deli-Quick near the University Commons
apartments, and ordered three Cobb Salad Bowls with extra sides, a gallon of
sweet tea, and two containers of breadsticks. She no longer cared about the
charges she was putting on the AmEx card.

On her way out, she noticed the window placard advertising
free Wireless Access for customers. That was good to know. She could come back
with the laptop and check her bank account to make sure the first paycheck is there
before she gives Dorothy any information.

At Treasure Isle Cassie carried most of the food inside at
room 18. “You really are safe here as long as you don’t go outside where you
can be seen,” she warned the two women now in her care. She didn’t hear any
complaints; only the plastic lids popping off containers, and wrappers being
torn off plastic utensils.

“I’m going to my own room now to make phone calls, and I
need to leave again for just a little while, but here is my cell phone number
if you need to reach me. I won’t be far, and I won’t be gone long.”

***

It was six-thirty Texas time; four-thirty in Las Vegas. Helen
picked up on the second ring.

“Hello Cassandra. I’ve been expecting your call.”

“Then you know Rosalie and I had a long talk this
afternoon.”

“Yes, she told me what to expect. She wasn’t able to tell
you who the adoptive parents were for obvious reasons--”

“But you can, can’t you? It must be someone I know. Who was
it, Mom?”

Cassie could hear her mother’s heavy sigh on the other end. Maybe
it was Helen’s disappointment that Cassie couldn’t let this go without making more
trouble for everyone. Maybe it was a sigh of relief to finally share the
burden.

“Do you remember the Stanwyks?” Helen asked.

“Sure! Stephanie was my best friend until fifth grade. They
moved away the week after school started. Are you saying Stephanie Stanwyk is
Rosalie’s daughter?” Cassie’s memory suddenly pictured her little friend from
long ago, carrot colored hair and all.

“Well, it didn’t take you long to figure that out, did it?”

“Mom . . .”

“Jennifer and Stephen were our neighbors when we lived on
Curtis Drive. I knew they were good people who’d been trying to have a baby for
a long time, so it was a kindness to give their names to the attorney handling
the adoption.”

“And Rosalie never knew her daughter was right there all
that time . . .” Cassie was thinking aloud, not asking, but the direction of
her thought was clear to her mother.

“I didn’t expect Rosalie to ever come back to Las Vegas, so
there was no risk,” Helen insisted.

“And then they moved away, yeah, I remember. I think I tried
to convince you to let Stephanie stay with us so she wouldn’t have to move.”

“Yes, you did. The two of you were very close.”

“I don’t remember where they moved. Do you?”

“They followed Stephen’s job.”

“Where?”

“The last time I heard from Jennifer they were living in
Phoenix. She sent an invitation to Stephanie’s wedding, and we sent a lovely
gift.”

“Stephanie’s wedding? Where was I? I don’t remember an
invitation.”

“You were going through your divorce at that time, Cassandra.
It wouldn’t have helped to wave someone else’s wedding invitation in your face.”

Cassie took a breath to avoid that subject. “Are they all still
in Phoenix as far as you know?”

“I imagine Stephen is. That’s where he buried Jennifer.”

“Buried . . . you mean Jennifer died?” Cassie’s heart sank. Stephanie
had already suffered the death of one mother – could she ask her to do it
again?

“I think about five years ago. She was severely diabetic,
Cassie; that’s why she couldn’t carry a baby of her own, and why they were so
grateful to have Stephanie in their lives.”

“I can imagine.” Cassie tried to mask her own unsettled
feelings. “So, is Phoenix the last place they lived? Stephanie didn’t move
anywhere else that you know of?”

“I haven’t stayed in touch . . .” Suddenly Helen took a deep
breath and huffed. “Cassandra, please tell me you’re not planning to bother
them about Rosalie!”

“I am going to find Stephanie, Mom. Do you remember her new
last name?”

“Why in God’s name do you want to upset other people’s lives,
Cassandra!”

Cassie did not want to argue about it, but something inside
her said she had to bring Rosalie her missing daughter before it was too late.

“I’m sorry, Mom. If Stephanie doesn’t want to see her birth
mother, that will be her choice and I won’t hassle anyone about it. But I can’t
make that choice for her, so I’m going to try to find her. Please don’t hang up
– I need to talk to you about something else. Actually, I need to talk to Dad.
Is he there?”

When Nolan came on the phone, Cassie explained why he should
have his accountant hold funds away from the Baylin House Charity until she got
them a new wire account number. There was no argument about it. Her request was
perfectly logical, he told her. “And by the way . . . do you remember what
school you and Stephanie attended?”

 “Sure. John S. Park Elementary.”

“I thought so,” Nolan said in that tone that always tipped
her off he was about to say something profound. “I seem to recall the groom had
the same last name.”

Half an hour later Cassie sat down in a back booth at the
Deli-Quick with a piece of strawberry cheesecake, her laptop, her cell phone,
and a two-line script she’d written so she wouldn’t waste time fumbling for
words.

As soon as she was online, she accessed her bank account in
Las Vegas and verified her new balance. Then she pulled up the telephone white
pages for Phoenix, and searched on the last name
Park
. The list was
long. Phoenix is a major city and the only way to get what she wanted was to
start calling.

On the fourteenth call, a woman answered and for the
fourteenth time Cassie read from her script. “Yes, ma’am, I’m trying to locate
a friend from grade school in Las Vegas. Her name was Stephanie Stanwyk, now
Stephanie Park. Is this possibly the correct number to reach her?”

There was a long hesitation. Cassie pressed the phone tight
to her ear.

“And what is your name?” the woman asked.

Cassie couldn’t hold back the grin even in her voice. “I’m Cassie
-- Cassandra Crowley. We used to live close to each other on Curtis Drive, and
we went to John S. Park Elementary, and--”

Cassie woke a few minutes after four Monday morning with
more energy than she’d had in weeks. By seven-thirty, she had confirmed a plane
ticket for Stephanie Park to arrive in Cordell Bay at noon Wednesday, and had
written more than half of what she hoped would be the next chapter of Rosalie
Baylin’s autobiography.

She phoned Baylin House to check in.

Bea answered. “She’s much better this morning, and she
already told us you’re handling some errands for her today.”

“She did? Good, I was hoping she would remember. I’ll be there,
but it will be much later than usual. You have my phone number to call if anything
changes.”

Next, Cassie called Margaret and Hortensia to say she would
take them out for breakfast in thirty minutes. She thought of them now as her
charges; she was responsible for their menial comforts and safety pretty much
the same as when Rosalie took over responsibility for the Oakwood men.

With major differences, of course – two ladies for an
overnight stint wasn’t the same as Rosalie’s nine men that she took on for more
than thirty years.

Cassie took her charges to an IHOP she found in the phone
book – two blocks from the University. Margaret had seemed a little prickly at
first. Cassie reasoned being away from her upper middle-class home was
stressful for her. But not too stressful to follow her normal pattern; she
picked over the menu, ordered the highest dollar item, and then added a side of
strawberry crêpes. Hortensia and Cassie both ordered the Denver Omelet
breakfast.

They were half way through the meal when Cassie’s cell phone
rang. “Hello?”

“Ms. Crowley, this is Arthur Wright returning your call. I
understand from your message that you have urgent need of representation?”

“Yes sir, thank you so much . . .”

The attorney held on while she went outside the restaurant and
sat in the privacy of her car to explain. He listened to everything, and then made
only one request.

“I’d like to speak privately with Mrs. Frank and her
housekeeper before we contact the police if possible . . . can you arrange a
meeting?”

“Yes, please, I’ll have them back in about twenty minutes.
It’s room 18 at Treasure Isle Motel near the University.” She gave him the
actual street address printed on her keycard, and gave him the phone number as
well. Then she went back inside the restaurant.

Cassie’s plate wasn’t as tasty as it had been before she
left, but she ate it anyway, explaining her conversation with Arthur Wright between
bites. Margaret vacillated between flight-or-fight a couple times; enough that
Cassie wondered if the woman needed to see a doctor as much as she needed to
talk to the lawyer, but thank God, that would become Arthur Wright’s
responsibility very soon.

She parked in front of room 16, and then escorted Hortensia
and Margaret two doors down and inside their room.

Hortensia helped Margaret get comfortable, propped on pillows
on one of the beds. She tuned the TV to a morning show she said would help
Margaret pass the time. Then she assured Cassie they would be fine waiting here
for the attorney to arrive, and would follow whatever advice he gave them.

As Cassie left, she pulled the door closed, and stood
listening until she heard Hortensia click the lock. Then she turned toward her own
room.

“I guess you’re awake,” came the unexpected deep bell voice.

Cassie held up her hand to block sunlight, and spotted Rob
leaning against the Expedition parked on the other side of the Santa Fe. He
must have parked there while she was in the room with Hortensia and Margaret.

“I am,” she said, nervously smiling, “up and working already.
Did you finally get some decent sleep?”

He gave a soft rumble of a laugh, walking toward her until
they met in front of her door at room 16. “Would have slept better if you’d
been there when I got home, but yeah, I’m caught back up now. Everything going
okay with you?”

Cassie swallowed hard and unlocked the door, leading the way
inside. “Would have been better if I’d known you’d be awake this early,” she
said.

And she meant it.

He sat down in the corner chair beside the window. “Who’s
your friend in room 18?”

Cassie flashed him a raised eyebrow, and then took a deep
breath and dug into her purse. The audio recorder was already queued to
playback where she asked Margaret the first question.

“I need you to listen to this before I say anything about
them.”

She sat down and pushed PLAY.

Within the first fifteen seconds, Rob’s jaw clamped and she
knew his curiosity had given way to scathing irritation. He sat steel-faced
through the rest of it, listening all the way to the end. The last thing he
heard was Cassie telling Hortensia to help Margaret gather her things to be
away for a few days. Then the tape stopped.

“What good is this supposed to be? Cassie, this can’t be
used as evidence.”

She flinched at his icy tone, and pushed the rewind button. Might
as well throw all the oil on the fire at once and get it over with. . .

“I know. I’ve already arranged an attorney for them.” She spoke
without looking up. “Arthur Wright is on his way here to talk to them alone
before you do. I didn’t tell him I have this recording, but I’m sure Margaret
will.”

She watched his jaw move as he rolled that around like a
gumball behind his teeth. Some of his anger seemed to subside, but he was
definitely chewing on something he wasn’t going to share with her.

When the tape stopped, Rob took out his phone and punched in
numbers. “Better meet me at Cassie’s room,” he said in a solemn tone. Then he
put the phone down and shook his head. “Gorduno’s been working this one for
months, so do us both a favor and don’t chop down any more trees for a while.”

Gorduno listened to the entire tape without saying a word.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed with her head down. She
hated that she might have damaged whatever case Gorduno was working on, but she
was running out of time to stop the forced closure of Baylin House.

Her phone rang just before the tape ended. She reached into
her purse and turned it off without looking at it.

“Okay,” Gorduno said after a thoughtful moment. “Get us in
there to talk to them.”

Cassie led the way to room 18, and introduced the detectives
to the three people inside.

Arthur Wright introduced himself, adding, “I have advised my
clients Mrs. Frank and her housekeeper Hortensia Sepulveda to answer all
questions honestly, Detectives. I feel it’s in their best interest to assist
you as much as possible, however I will intervene if any questions are asked
that I feel are detrimental to their rights.”

Gorduno cast a look to Rob, and walked around the attorney to
sit in a chair facing Hortensia. He leaned forward, looking into Hortensia’s eyes.
“Delavina is your granddaughter?”

“She is the daughter of my son, Ernesto.”

Margaret gasped, “Hortensia, you don’t have to talk to them about
that.”

The Latino woman smiled at Gorduno, then at Rob. “They are
not here to hurt Delavina.”

“Or you either,” Rob assured her. He took a few steps to an
open spot, and leaned against the wall where Hortensia could watch his face.
And he could watch hers.

“Did Delavina tell you how she knows Mr. Fozzi?” Gorduno
asked.

“She told me he came into the Cantina a few times where she
was working. He was just another gringo to her, but she always told the gringo
visitors that she was saving to come visit me, and some of them left extra coins
on the table afterward. She said Mr. Fozzi left some American dollars on the
table the last time he was there.”

“Enough for her to come here?”

“I don’t know,” Hortensia said with a shrug. “The owner of
the Cantina took most of it away from her. But Senior Buck came later and told
Delavina that Mr. Fozzi had paid her way.”

“Who is Senior Buck?”

Hortensia’s expression pinched. “Senior Buck is a Coyote who
steals from everyone.”

Gorduno nodded, that was nothing new to him. “So Senior Buck
brought Delavina across the border, not Mr. Fozzi?”

“Si. Delavina said he took her to a house in Brownsville
where Mr. Fozzi was waiting.”

“And then Fozzi brought her to Mrs. Frank’s home . . .” Rob
suggested.

Hortensia grunted and hardened her face again.

Gorduno studied her as she sat quiet. “Eso no es todo de
ella. ¿Qué hizo,” he asked gently;
That is not all of it. What did he do to
her?

Hortensia shook her head.

Gorduno pushed, “She was violated?”

Hortensia whispered, “Si.”

“Fozzi did this?” Gorduno asked.

“Both of the men,” Hortensia spoke with her head down.
“Sometimes other men too, with the younger girls.”

“Oh my God . . .” Margaret breathed in shock. “Those poor
girls . . . I knew they were terrified, but I had no idea . . .”

Cassie hadn’t thought about what the girls went through –
she was too busy trying to prove who stole money from Baylin House. She almost
lost her breakfast hearing about it now.

It was a relief when Arthur Wright announced, “I believe
we’ve heard enough. Neither of my clients should be held responsible for the
crimes committed by Mr. Fozzi. I intend to propose to D.A. Corcoran to accept
their testimony in exchange for full dismissal of charges for actions which
were clearly coerced with extreme cruelty.”

Gorduno nodded. Then he leaned toward Hortensia again and
asked, “What about Delavina’s parents? Does her father know she is here?”

Hortensia started to shake her head, but ended with a shrug.
“My daughter-in-law doesn’t want to know because she is afraid of Ernesto. My
son is turning bad. He likes the money he can spend when he helps the men who
hide the drugs.”

“The Cartel . . .” Gorduno suggested.

“Si,” Hortensia said in a tight voice.

Gorduno stood. “Muchas gracias, abuela. Lo ayudará a
proteger a las niñas.”
Thank you, Grandmother. I will help you protect the
girls.

Then he told Arthur Wright, “I’ll talk to Corcoran with you.”

Gorduno drove his unmarked police car downtown behind the
attorney’s shiny black Jaguar sedan with the ladies inside.

Rob stayed behind to walk Cassie to her room.