Pagodaville, page 11
“That’s what Jim Tate told me. The Puentes.”
“Good people, the Puentes, from what I understand. So, really, the discovery of these bones today probably gives more credibility to the mafia viewpoint. We think the Puentes were paid and paid well to run the place and keep quiet.”
“So, you think those old bones in there might be some missing persons from the mafia?”
He shrugged, “Could be. I’m sure the forensics guys will get to work quickly. The FBI probably has a lot more intel, I imagine. We’re just small-town cops here.”
Lorna thought about it for a moment. While she was interested in the history, she was more concerned about what do to about it right now!
The rest of the day was a blur for Lorna. The FBI arrived, the lead agent named Carl Lawrence introduced himself to Lorna then started directing Earl Driver’s men to hammer away at the swimming pool. Three flatbed trucks, a crane, and backhoe arrived all within the space of a couple of hours.
The FBI forensics team, dressed in white jumpsuits and sterile gloves and armed with small shovels, went down into the pit to extricate the bones. They worked slowly and with precision, setting the bones into lined boxes.
When the claw of the crane disappeared into the bottom of the pool, it brought up several rusted pieces of what might have been a vehicle. Various sized chunks of rusted steel, and a few flappy tires dropped out of the claw. They took several photographs.
One of the agents called out, “We got a plate, looks like Jersey.”
Lorna was in full tilt panic mode as she watched her investment get pummeled with the hammers. She strode up to the group of FBI agents gathered around the pool findings. She found the lead agent.
Her voice, pitched an octave higher than normal, came out rushed. “Agent Lawrence, are you planning on digging up the whole fucking place?”
He started to speak, and she cut him off, “Look, we just renovated! And I just bought the place! And and, I had no idea about any of this!” she shrieked.
“I understand, ma’am.” He tried to calm her down. When he saw that she was on the edge, he called out to the workmen. “Take a break.”
He said to Lorna, “How about we go into the lobby and talk for a while?”
Lorna scowled. “How about you take your men and machines and get off my property?” She knew she was being testy but couldn’t help herself. She walked into the lobby with Steve and Chief Sheriff Goslin in tow. She did not offer refreshment.
She had to think!
The agent pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face as he made himself comfortable on one of the couches. “Air conditioning feels good.”
Steve and the sheriff sat together on the opposite couch, and Lorna sat on the edge of one of the big chairs.
Agent Lawrence pulled a black notebook from his breast pocket and clicked a pen. “Can you tell me what you know of all this?”
“What I know of all this?” She raised her voice. “What I know of all this is just about what you know. Do you think if I had any inkling, I would have purchased the property?”
“No, I don’t imagine you would have. Who did the inspection?”
“That would be Jim Tate. I have his card if you need to contact him.”
“Yes, we will need to see his report. Did Mr. Tate indicate anything that might have given either him, or you, reason to question the foundation of the court or the pool?”
“No, he just said the condition of the pool and the court was such that repairs might be costly. I told him I wasn’t interested in keeping either one for repairs and that the court would become a garden and the pool would eventually be filled in and repaved for a social area in the courtyard. He agreed with me and that was that.”
“So, Mister Tate did not seem to think there would be a problem with excavating the areas?”
She sighed heavily. This was going nowhere. “He and I did not discuss it further. He thought my ideas of renovation were good. Increase the value of the property and so on.”
Carl changed direction, “What was the asking price?”
Lorna fought the desire to tell him to shove his questions up his FBI ass. “It was low.”
“How low?”
Lorna stood up. “This is ridiculous! What does the asking price have to do with—”
Carl made for her to sit down and remain calm. She tried to keep her anger in check. She said, “Look. Let’s cut to the chase, okay? I had no idea about the history of this place before I purchased it. I’ve been on my own since I moved down here. Well actually,” she added, “I have a live-in couple who caretake the property and the three us worked very hard to make it habitable.”
“Who are the caretakers?”
“The Catalvos. Anya and Milton Catalvo.”
“Do they live on the property? And if so, are they here now?”
“No, they are south, in Boynton Beach, visiting a sick cousin.”
Just then something clicked in her mind. Something that had been nagging at her since Anya and Milton left so abruptly the other day.
“A sick cousin?” Agent Lawrence poised his pen over the notebook.
“Yes. A, uhm. a sick cousin.” Her resolve quickly deflated, her body involuntarily sank back into the chair. Hearing herself tell Agent Lawrence that Anya and Milton were down south visiting a sick cousin became a crystal-clear reality, a clarity that brought her to a painful truth.
Anya, Milton, and Cheenah…they all knew.
EIGHTEEN
When Lorna composed herself for the third time that day, it was agreed upon that the rest of the property would remain intact until further investigation could be made.
Agent Lawrence explained, “As you know, cold cases go on for years. We don’t have a lot but what we do know is that the mafia had safe-houses all along the coast from Maine to Miami, dating back to, oh say, the early ‘30s. Keeping track of all the goings on was daunting, as you might well imagine.”
Lorna nodded. “Go on, Agent Lawrence.”
“Hall of records shows the building of the court and pool came long after the rest of the property was built.”
Lorna said, “Okay, so the motel is built without a court or pool. Then many years later these two structures are added?”
“That is correct. The records—and they are a bit loose—show that the additions were made in the late 1950s.”
Steve asked, “What about building permits?”
Agent Lawrence shook his head. “Building permits were bought and sold for a good price, especially the ones where the county turned a blind eye.”
“Do you think the Puente family had anything to do with this?” Lorna asked.
Agent Lawrence answered, “Not really. Well, they may have known something about it, but I’m sure they were paid handsomely to keep it quiet. The actual owners of the motel are on record.”
“Oh? And what was the name of the actual owners?”
Agent Lawrence snorted. “Smith. John and Dave Smith.”
Steve, Lorna, and the sheriff all shook their head at the same time.
“A totally silent operation.” Lorna thought about it for another moment, “Makes perfect sense I suppose.”
“It does,” added Agent Lawrence. “Perfect sense and a
dead-end trail. Until now. I’m sure the forensics team will get the dating on those bones and they’re probably twenty or thirty years old. It would certainly connect a lot of cold case dots.”
“So where do we go from here, Agent Lawrence?”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you regarding future plans, Miss Hughes. But we should know in a few days if we have to dig any further. Until then, the property is still considered a crime scene.”
Lorna nodded. Great. Just fucking great, she thought.
After speaking with Agent Lawrence, Lorna took a cool shower and tried to think things out. Her world was falling apart. This was such an unexpected chink in the chain. She toyed with the idea of putting the motel on the market after all was said and done.
Lorna towel dried herself and walked naked to her closet. She shook her head and chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. A bitter mirth. It was all coming together. Anya and Milton’s sudden departure, Doreen.
Doreen’s father and grandfather were in the mafia.
Maybe she—the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lorna.” It was Steve. “Have you had anything to eat lately?”
“Haven’t had the stomach for it. But I suppose I should eat something. What did you have in mind?”
“The diner in town. Might do you some good to get away from the motel for a little while.”
She agreed with him. She had to get away for a few hours. She was so overwhelmed.
In the car, she was quiet.
Steve drove his personal car instead of the cruiser and Lorna was glad for that. She couldn’t imagine public knowledge of this ordeal yet.
He asked gently, “How are you holding up?”
“Not sure.”
Steve waited until they were seated at the diner and the waitress took their order.
He said, “I tried to find more information in town regarding the permits for the pool and the badminton court. Nada. Zip.”
“No big surprise there.” Lorna moved the salt and pepper shakers around. “Steve, I have a theory. Work with me here.” Lorna waited for Steve to nod. When he did, she continued. “Anya and Milton knew about this.”
He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “Really? How so?”
“I didn’t realize it until just a little while ago. First, a few days ago when their cousin Hernando arrived to dig up the first layer of the court, he stopped when he hit cement. He did not want to continue because he said that the cement would break his equipment and he didn’t have anyone to jack hammer through it. Anya and Milton had to translate for me because Hernando did not speak much English. When there was a lot more chatter in Spanish than there was in English, I became suspicious. Like what they were talking about was something way more detailed than what they translated for me.”
“Okay.”
“And so, when I asked Milton about the base for the garden, he hemmed and hawed and couldn’t look me in the eye. Anya stepped in, of course, and said Milton thought it would be okay to set the garden on the concrete as long as we put a good soil base underneath.”
“Okay.”
“Well, I thought about it. It would mean that the garden would be raised up off the ground several feet and unless I built a retaining wall around it with steps to get to it. It wouldn’t work. I considered this for a while but didn’t like the idea. So, I called someone at the garden Center and they confirmed that the best way to build something like this I should have at least four feet of earth to topsoil.”
“Makes sense.”
“So, I decided to dig up the cement, and that’s when I called you and you gave me Earl’s number.”
“Right.”
“So then, the next day, when Earl came by for an estimate, the Catalvos informed me that they were heading south to Boynton Beach to see a sick ‘cousin’.”
“Hmph.” Steve nodded slowly.
“And Cheenah went as well. Drove her own car.” Lorna added.
The food arrived. She continued explaining her theory while upending the ketchup bottle over her fries. “It came on so quick, so unlike them to not be more forthcoming. So, here we are, Steve. The Catalvos are MIA.”
Steve dressed his burger. He seemed to be considering all the angles. “If the Catalvos knew about this and said nothing to you, it makes them…”
“Yeah.” She waited a beat. “Complicit in a crime?”
He shrugged, “Not sure. Yet.”
They ate in silence. Lorna realized she was famished as she polished off half her burger in three bites.
Two men walked into the diner and headed directly to the counter. One of them spoke to the waitress. “Hey Sal, did you hear the news?”
“What news?”
“That old Pagoda Motel up on Highway A1A, the one that just got bought by some lady from up north?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I heard that they just dug up a bunch of human bones.”
She shook her head. “What the hell you talkin’ about? And who is they?”
“I guess the owner wanted to make some renovations there, and when the guys dug it up, they found a shitload of human bones.”
“Oh, come on, who did you hear this from?” She busied herself with filling the napkin holders on the counter. Other people started listening now. Lorna didn’t move a muscle, and Steve put his burger down.
“Fred Lipton. He was one of the guys working for Driver.”
The waitress guffawed and waved him off. “Lipton probably had too much whiskey before the job. The old drunk is a bit of a story-teller.”
“No, the other guys confirmed it. And we just drove by there! The place is crawling with FBI. Big crane and trucks. What a mess. We tried to drive in but got chased away.”
Sal considered this then said, “Well, holy shit. Whaddya know?”
Lorna stopped eating and started to get up. Steve held her by her arm and murmured, “Don’t move.” He got up and approached the men at the counter.
“Hey, guys.”
They turned to look at him. “Oh, hey officer.”
“Yeah, I need you to step outside with me for a moment.”
They looked at him, “Why? Did we do something wrong, officer?”
“Please, just join me outside for a moment. Now.”
Steve followed the men outside. Lorna watched them leave the restaurant. She could feel eyes on her back, as if all the customers knew who she was.
Lorna wanted to disappear. She pushed her plate back and folded her hands under her chin. Logic told her to sell the property immediately. Fill in the graves and sell it. Call it a bad move.
But she had fallen for her newly acquired Mexican family, and Steve—she just adored him—and everyone she met so far was so pleasant and easy-going. She had begun to carve out new directions for herself. She enjoyed the beautiful history of St. Augustine. She lived a new routine that suited her. And she loved the weather.
She didn’t want to move!
But where was the family? Why did they abandon her? Her gut feeling of them knowing this was going to happen was not just a possibility, it was the truth. And she wanted to get to the bottom of it regardless of her choice to sell the property or not.
Steve came back in to the diner; the men did not.
Lorna did not want to know.
NINETEEN
Thursday, June 26, 1980
4534 Tropical Drive, Ocean Ridge, Florida
They spoke in Spanish.
Anya said to Marco’s wife, Nancia, “You don’t understand. Marco must come back with us.”
Nancia replied, “It is so long since this happened, why must he go over it again and again? Can’t you see he just wants to be left alone?”
Milton stepped in. “Marco, no one will hurt you now.”
Marco paced back and forth in front of the big picture window that faced the ocean. “I cannot return.”
Cheenah put her hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Look Marco. All you would need to do is come back with us and talk to Miss Lorgana. She is very special, and we do love her very much. She is a good woman and she should have the whole story, the truth.”
Anya said, “She will lose the motel. The police will close her down. And we worked so hard to make it look beautiful again. She has big plans. Please, Marco. Please reconsider.”
Marco stopped pacing and regarded his family. They had grown up and played and went to school together.
Their parents were interchangeable. And while they all knew what had happened on that night so many years ago, they did not experience the steady stream of nightmares that he did.
They did not see what he saw. Marco slowly shook his head.
“I cannot.”
TWENTY
Thursday, June 26, 1980
The Pagoda Motel
Avril managed to get on a morning flight. She arrived in Jacksonville at 12:30 p.m., rented a car at the airport, and sped down the highway to get to Lorna. She had no idea what to expect but knew that Lorna needed her.
When Avril pulled into the shambles of what was once the turn-around parking area of the motel, she slowly got out of the car and surveyed the wreckage.
Lorna ran out of the lobby and fell into Avril’s arms. She shook with tears. Avril held her for several minutes, cooing soothing words, telling her everything was going to be okay.
When Lorna finally pulled herself together, she turned Avril away from the rubble and guided her towards the main building.
“How was your flight? Did you have any trouble finding the motel?”
“Well, that bridge you warned me about…wow, what a piece of shit! But no, it was pretty clear from your directions. I floored the rental, which I am glad to report did not fall apart, to get to you. I didn’t really even look at the scenery.”
Lorna nodded. “Let’s get you settled, then I’ll make us something to eat. I managed to get to the grocery store this morning but to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember what I bought. I’m just so…”
“Sounds like a perfect idea! As long as you have wine, we are in good shape!”
Lorna smiled and nodded. “There’s wine.”
Avril sighed with delight when she saw the guest room. “It’s absolutely darling! I just love it!”
She leaned on the windowsill and took in a deep breath. “Ahh. I’ve forgotten how deliciously salty the air is down here.”
Avril decided to take a quick shower then unpack her suitcase. Lorna retreated to the kitchen to throw a simple meal of salad, tuna, and egg together for them. She bought some fresh-baked bread, sliced it, and set the small kitchen table with butter, jam, salad dressing, and utensils.
Once settled in with their wine and food, Avril regarded her friend. “So, I’ll admit, you look, ah…tired. I’m so sorry all of this happened, Lorn. Things seemed to be going along so smoothly.”
