Chapter Twenty-four
The law office on Alvarado Street had a discreet sign on the door that read P. L. Peperich, Attorney at Law. I looked at my watch and saw it was four-thirty, so I waited for someone to come out of the office onto the street.
As I was lurking on the street corner, someone called my name.
“Charlie. I am glad to see you. I wanted to thank you for coming to the funeral.”
I turned around and saw the short, round figure of Pilar, Don Topo’s youngest daughter, coming up the wooden sidewalk. She reached up and embraced me, which was both welcome and awkward. For lack of something better to say, I asked her where she was living.
“I live here, in Monterey, with my husband. He is a carpenter and now we are trying to build and sell houses. He is a hardworking man. He will do well but it takes time.”
“I’m sure you help him with that. You were always a bright girl,” I said, remembering her sharp wit and subtle sense of humor. Of Lucinda’s three sisters, Pilar was the only one I thought of as a friend.
“You don’t look as deadly as I thought you would,” she said.
I was taken back. “Why do you say that?”
“As you know by now, Lucinda has been trying to settle our father’s affairs. She often invokes your name as a dangerous force who will sweep down from the North and slay our enemies,” she replied with a half-smile. “I see you still come when she calls.”
“I am here of my own violation.”
“How strange. She told everyone you would be coming. She uses your name like a club, saying you will burst in and right the wrongs.”
“It is only by lucky circumstance that I am here at all.”
“She told us you would come back to Monterey and, poof, here you are,” Pilar said. She gave me the look that women have when they are deciding how much to tell someone who may not be smart enough to keep their mouth shut.
“I shouldn’t speak badly of Lucinda. She is fighting like a badger to keep my father’s ranches from being sold to pay the taxes. Of course, she has the time, as she has only one child and she has never really taken care of him. As infuriating as she acts, I know she is looking out for my sisters and myself.”
“I am sure it will all work out,” I said.
Pilar looked at me wistfully. “It would have been a better world if my father had forced you to marry me, rather than Lucinda. Of course I didn’t get knocked up by an outlaw like she did,” Pilar said softly, the way a really sharp blade enters a ribcage.
I stood there, surprised at my lack of understanding. I had no idea that Pilar had coveted my affection for Lucinda.
“You are a good man. My father did a terrible thing when he forced you to marry her. Lucinda has been very hard on you, Charlie. Even so, she really does have feelings for you.”
“You sound like you are close to her.”
“We never talk. She is insufferable and arrogant beyond words.”
“How do you know what she thinks about me?”
“I read the letters she wrote to you. There must be fifty of them. She is a very mixed up woman.”
“I never got any letters from her,” I said. Many was the time in Oregon, I wondered if Lucinda had completely forgotten about me.
“She never sent them but she wrote quite a bundle. They were dated, like a diary. She confessed her fears and mistakes. She asked for your forgiveness and understanding. In her letters, she explains why she did what she did. I suppose she is explaining them to herself, since she never sent them to you. Anyway, in her own strange way, she does think of you. Maybe she even cares for you. I have to pick up my children so I will get going. It was nice to see you again, Charlie.”
She turned to go, then turned back around. “Don’t tell Lucinda about the letters. She is already angry with me. If she knew I discovered where she hid her private correspondence at my father’s house, who knows what she would do. I only tell you this because Lucinda does need your help. She may not bring herself to say it, but she does. We all do.” Pilar said. She smiled sadly, kissed me on the cheek and left me there, scratching my jaw in wonderment.
At about five thirty, a heavy set man came through the door onto the street. He stopped after locking the door, which indicated no one else was in the office. He leaned against a tie rail and stretched his back after a long day of riding an office chair.
The lawyer’s hair was slicked back and his face was unlined. He wasn’t a bad looking man, perhaps even handsome except for being overweight. His jowls draped over his starched collar and his belly draped over his belt. Peperich started down the street and I came onto the sidewalk after him.
“Mr. Peperich. A moment of your time, sir,” I said as I raised my hand in his direction.
Looking slightly annoyed, Lawyer Peperich came back to the front of his office.
“Do I know you?” he inquired.
“We may have met. I apologize for bothering you when you are on your way home. I was hoping for a word. It won’t take long and I am very much in need of some legal advice.”
I had dressed in my new suit of clothes with black pants and a brocade coat and black tie. My shirt was freshly starched, my hair freshly barbered and my face closely shaved. Except for the sunburned face and scared hands, I could have looked like a town man in need of a lawyer. Peperich reopened the door to his office and we went back inside. He walked to the back of the building to his office and sat down at his desk.
He extended his hand toward the client’s chair in front of the desk but I declined to sit. Peperich cocked his head in question.
“Sir, what would you do if someone had secretly paid a tax lien on a piece of property and was going to use it to gain title to the property?”
Peperich considered for a moment.
“What do you mean when you say secretly obtained a tax lien?”
“Paid the tax lien without the owner of the property knowing about it.”
“Well, the property owner pays the tax lien and retains the property.”
I nodded as if a cloud had been lifted.
“What if there was a death and because of the confusion there wasn’t any money available to pay the tax lien. Keep in mind the tax lien wouldn’t be due from the state but rather from the person who, without the knowledge of the property owner or his heirs, secretly bought the lien. This person has a very good attorney, if you confuse good with unethical. This attorney has a fix in at the records office so that if the person who owns the property doesn’t come up with the cash in a very short period of time, they lose the ground.”
“Who are the people in this predicament?”
“The late Don Topo is the property owner in question. His daughter can’t come up with the money by the deadline and I am trying to help her out. What would you suggest I do?”
Peperich seemed perplexed. He knew that he was the unethical attorney in question. If I meant to do him harm, then why was I talking to him in broad daylight and throwing all of these names around?
“This seems like a complex issue. Perhaps we would be better served if you made an appointment during normal business hours and we looked into the matter then,” Peperich said. His manner was congenial and relaxed but his brow was knitted. He started to get up.
“Almost certainly we can solve the problem this afternoon,” I said and slipped a five shot revolver from my waist band.
Peperich’s eyes widened but his smile stayed on his face.
“You certainly don’t think I can solve a legal problem at gunpoint. That is absurd,” he said as he sat back down in his chair.
“All right, then let us talk about who would object if you were shot to death here in your office. Your wife, Abigail doesn’t really care for you anymore. The affection of your mistress is most certainly tied to your pocket book. Your daughter is married and living in the East. She never writes you, so she must not be concerned about your welfare. The thief who has hired you to rape people through paying their taxes then taking th
eir land undoubtedly owes you money for service rendered. He would be glad to see you laid out in a coffin so he wouldn’t have to pay you. Unless you know someone I’ve missed, nobody is going to be very upset if you become dead.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
I looked at him and then settled in a chair.
“I know a lot about you but I am not associated with you. If you die this afternoon, I will walk out the back of your office, get on a ship and leave Monterey. There is nothing that ties us together. The Sheriff will have nothing to go on. A dead lawyer with no clues pointing to an assailant won’t generate much effort from anybody, especially since no one cares about you anyway. I walk out the door and that will be the end of it. I am not stealing anything and we never met, so disregard my orders at your peril.”
“I fail to see why you are telling me this,” he said.
“You are a logical man and so I think you can understand how I can shoot you without consequence. I would prefer not to, but if you refuse to follow my instructions, I’m sending you onto your next life. I also know you have a gun in your office desk and one in your safe. When you open the safe in a minute, don’t get silly.”
“How do you know so much about me?” Peperich asked. The smile left his face.
“Servants tend to know all sorts of things. Now, open the safe in the corner. I already know that what I am after isn’t in the safe but as long as we are here, why not make sure?”
“You would have to be crazy to do this and you don’t look crazy to me,” he said and sat further back in his chair. It was a good bluff because he said it casually.
“Do you want the first shot in the stomach or in the head? I have to say that you probably have a better chance surviving the head shot. Bullets go in the mouth, knock out a few teeth then continue out the cheek. I have seen them bounce off the skull or penetrate the skin and travel between the skull and skin. A stomach shot seems less risky on first consideration but, it is my experience, a stomach shot may nick an artery or severe your spine. If none of those things are hit, you still may die of peritonitis. Whether I shoot you in the stomach or in the face, the second bullet will be in the back of the skull.”
I stood up and looked down at him. He must have seen something in my face because he held up his hands and slowly got out of the chair. He walked to the corner and knelt down to twirl the combination. I moved to the side of the desk where I would have a clear shot if he decided to go for a pistol.
“I haven’t seen you around town. Do you own property in Monterey?”
“If you are asking if you have stolen property from me personally, then no, you have not. I am only helping a friend.”
The safe came open after two tries. Inside, were stacks of papers, folders and a box of cigars.
“Pick up the papers, put them in the trash and come with me,” I said and waited for him to stand back up. I checked my watch, then directed him toward the back door of his office. A freight wagon waited in the alley. The driver had a dark scarf pulled up around his face and a black hat pulled down over his eyes.
“Lay in the back of the wagon Mr. Lawyer and I am going to throw this tarp over you. When we get to where we’re going, I’ll pull the tarp off you. Until then, lie quiet.”
“That is telling him, Charlie.”
“How did you get roped into this?” I asked Tiburcio.
“Would I miss a chance to right the wrongs perpetrated by a gringo lawyer against my people?” he replied with a wolf’s grin.
Scent of Tears