The Rotten Seed

By Gloria Lynn

A California family witness unforeseen murders of family members while police search for clues and the clock keeps ticking. Who will be next?
Set in the hills above San Diego, California, where Don Luis Estoban establishes Rancho De Oro hoping to keep his holdings prosperous for future generations. In the 1950s, after great wealth is gained, Arturo Estoban marries a San Francisco socialite and together they have three sons, Juan, Gustavo, and Ricardo, to carry on the Estoban name.
Gustavo grows into a destructive bully with carnal desires. His greed and lust affects every family member and as he matures into a man he continues to battle his inner demons. A sudden chain of events leads to several questionable murders within the Estoban Clan and unsolved cases at the police department continue to increase, yet, in each case, everyone in the family has an iron clad alibis. There is no question that someone is out for revenge; but who?
In this complex mystery, a California family is shocked by the death of family members and must help the police find clues to stop the killings before another member is found dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781463430832

Gloria Lynn

Gloria Lynn’s creativity directs her into unchartered waters. She has published three novels and a group of poems that show her ability to weave words of intrigue. Gloria’s goal is to encourage readers to think outside the box, outside their comfort zone. She is a retired registered nurse who lives in Prescott, Arizona. Her fifth novel, California Dreamin’: A Love Story, is a work in progress, and she recently started a sequel to The Birthmark called The Birthmark Book II. Peace and love.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

No word from the inspector concerning your father’s murder? asked Juan.

I’ve chalked it up to the Mexican Mafia. I did hear from a friend of a friend in the police force that dad’s death wasn’t just a shooting. The killer had made a spectacle of him. I asked Inspector Jenkins about the rumor but he refused to give out information. Maybe I don’t need to know. It was humiliating from what I was told. Pedro stared down at the churning sea as the yacht pulled through the dark water.

I doubt the Mafia would go to such lengths though your father had dealings with them. This feels personal. What’s your take on it?

I immediately thought of revenge. Who hated my dad so much they had to humiliate him in death? The Mafia is being investigated. It’s the only lead so far.

Well, it’s been six months and no new evidence. The crime scene was contaminated due to the graveside service held the day before and no witnesses have come forward. I hate to say it but it could turn into another cold case.

I just want it to go away. Dad was deceitful and I never liked him. He frightened me.

ONE

The late summer night found Gus Estoban driving with abandon down one of the side roads on his family’s rancho. A full yellow moon hung low in the dark sky. His convertible top on the Caddy was down with two companions, Carmen and Rosita, standing on the front seat beside him, each clinging tightly to the top of the windshield. Bouncing precariously along the uneven road, the girls sang out the Billy Ray Cyrus song blaring from the radio. Decidedly they were all drunk. Long black hair swirled through the whipping air as the girls focused on the darkly lit road ahead.

Steering the wheel with his left hand while his right clasped a nearly empty tequila bottle, Gus slowed the Caddy down then turned off the road and stopped at a cattle gate. He jumped out and swung the metal gate open. Back in the car he continued toward his favorite swimming hole. As a teenager he had found it while rounding up cattle along the South Fork River. The spot was isolated yet easy to access from the road. Driving recklessly across the open range the headlights scanned the dark uneven ground. The old Oak tree stood tall in the night as he came to a screeching halt in front of the slow moving moonlit river.

The girls squealed in anticipation wanting Gus to join in the fun as they tore off their clothes.

No, no, no, you crazy women, I brought you out here because you begged me to. Go swim and let me be.

Please Gus, come in with us. We have more fun with you in the water. Remember last time? Carmen giggled as she pulled off her panties.

Si, Gustavo, remember the fun we had under the water? Let me help you take off your shirt. Come in with us, pleeeese, it’s so hot tonight, encouraged Rosita as she yanked at his shirt. Though he continued to protest, they playfully tugged at him.

I said get out of the car and go swim. Let me be!

Quickly frustrated the two girls gave up. Opening the car door they ran drunkenly toward the river.

Gus turned down the music and settled back. Carmen and Rosita splashed about in the river laughing and yelling, so Gus left the headlights on to watch. He took another pull on the tequila bottle and his thoughts wandered. Life is good but not good enough, no, not good enough at all. I’m about to change that, yes I am.

Suddenly Carmen gave out a fearful scream. Gus sat up and looked where she was pointing. He could barely make out a large dark shadow on the opposite bank of the wide river. Changing the headlights to bright he caught sight of his daddy’s prize bull and he was agitated and alert to the girl’s splashing. As the girls swam toward the car the bull angrily tossed his head then as if in slow motion Gus watched the massive beast charge into the river toward the intruders. He swung into action and drove the Caddy into the water as far as he dared then stretching over to open the passenger’s door, he yelled, Get in the fucking car, now! He was raising the convertible top as he yelled.

Frantically struggling against the pull of the water the girls finally reached the car. Wet and nude they scrambled into the front seat. As Carmen pulled the heavy door closed she noticed river water beginning to puddle on the floorboard.

The bull was now in the middle of the river moving as fast as his huge bulk would allow; his focus now on the car.

Gus yelled, Get in the back seat!

The girls scrambled over and screamed at the bull’s closeness seeing him push through the river water toward them. Stomping on the gas peddle Gus attempted to back out of the river. Mud flew and water churned fitfully as the rear tires spun wildly but it wasn’t fast enough, the bull made a crunching impact with the Caddy’s passenger side causing the car to slide and rock dramatically.

The girls cried out, Get us out of here, Gus! as they watched the bull retreat.

Damned bull! How the hell did you get out of your fucking stall? You girls shut up and let me drive!

The bull gave out a loud billowing roar then began tossing his head again as Gus finally backed the Caddy out of the river. Racing toward the gate his mind intent on his next move, I’ve got to get through the gate, close and secure it before that bull catches up. He’s chasing the damn the car! Thank God I didn’t lock the gate and thank God it opens outward.

As planned he pushed through the gate using the front of the car then jumping out at a run he grabbed and easily swung it shut. Sliding the bolt into place, he looked down at the cattle guard under the gate. Smiling, he watched the massive bull charging through the moonlit night toward the car lights, then at the last minute he slowed to an abrupt trot coming up to the gate. Breathing heavily, his concentration remained on the car. As he lowered his head to sniff at the cattle guard he became restless and began trotting back and forth along the barbed wire fence determined to somehow get to the car.

Gus stood fascinated, watching the bull’s display of courage as his adrenalin rush subsided.

Finally shaking his fist at the bull, he yelled, You S.O.B., I know just how you feel, free but not free enough!

Chuckling he got back into his damaged car and proceeded to the Route 26 Motel. The ride on his two heifers felt exceptional that night.

Stretching out Gus slowly rolled onto his side aware that he was on the leather couch in his study. He had made it home just before dawn and felt a growing hangover from too much booze. Smiling, he remembered the encounter with his dad’s bull. Rubbing his eyes and face as he sat up, he focused on the invitation propped up against the desk lamp. Today is big brother’s 40th birthday party at the ranch house, time to shower and face the wife.

TWO

Don Luis Estoban was born in Malaga, Spain and at the young age of sixteen, in the year 1835 while the Texas War of Independence was underway, he sailed to America hoping to seek his fortune. Making his way through the Wild West he found work on a rancho in Wyoming and for the next 10 years he learned the cattle business.

Encouraged by Jerome Keller, the ranch foreman who had become his good friend, he went through the slow process of becoming an American citizen. Jerome had taken a liking to the young Spaniard thus took him under his wing. The day his citizenship papers arrived, the two men rode into town to celebrate at the local saloon, though Luis rarely drank.

The year 1845 found Luis and Jerome sitting at a campfire during herding season listening to the many gold rush stories from drovers. When payday came, they up and quit. Off toward California they rode to make their fortune due to the rumors that Gold Nuggets as big as apples were being panned out of her tumbling rivers. Once in the Sierra foothills they set up camp just outside Jamestown. The plan was to pan enough gold to buy grazing land and raise cattle together.

The Mexican American War came and went as the men labored and fought their way through the next several years. Jamestown was a rough and tumble place with little judicial law but both men kept a low profile and quietly banked their money.

Once California was declared a state, Luis pulled up stakes. Saying good bye to his partner, who wasn’t ready to move on, he traveled south to San Diego. Checking into a small local hotel, he happened to run into a distant cousin while eating supper. Benito owned land in the Potraro hills and joining Luis for dinner, he listened to his cousin’s tale of woe. As a Californio he had purchased a land grant from Spain and was being pressed by the state to give it up. Luis saw this as a golden opportunity because as an American citizen he could buy the land grant and help Benito return to Spain with money in his pocket. The transaction was completed with both men happy.

Luis had written regularly to his family in Malaga, so when Benito sailed home he sent along a letter to Isabella, his childhood sweetheart. The letter held a proposal of marriage and a year later, upon her arrival, they were married at the Mission in San Diego. The Spaniard had worked hard to obtain his life’s dream and at the age of 30, he had accomplished much of it.

Rancho de Oro, Don Luis’s cattle ranch in the Potraro hills to the east of San Diego, was purchased to provide security for future generations. This plan had superseded expectations. Over the years the rancho had become extremely profitable thus making the Estoban family extremely wealthy.

* * *

Arturo Luis Estoban stood about five feet seven inches at a stretch. Being a typical Spaniard, he carried himself with the stature of a seven foot man. Graduating Harvard Law School in 1948, he came home and founded a very successful law firm in downtown San Diego. He also helped manage the family rancho and restaurant chain with his parents, Alberto and Rosa Estoban. An only son, he had two older sisters, Maria and Juanita.

At Estoban’s Cocina the Spanish food was authentic and delicious. Great, great grandmother Dona Consuela Hernandez also came from Malaga, Spain, where her family owned a very popular country restaurant. She had brought the family recipes with her to America when she married Raymond Luis Estoban.

Cattle came with the early purchase of Rancho de Oro and the business remained profitable. The two Estoban sisters ran the cattle business with their husbands. Both lived on small ranchos in the southwestern section of the property close to the outskirts of town.

* * *

In the prestigious downtown financial district of San Francisco there was a very famous after hours private club called Dominic’s. The nondescript entrance was in a back alleyway that opened into a dark receiving room. In the 1920’s it had been a speakeasy. Walking up the darkly lit staircase you entered a large elegant room that had an active piano bar as a focal point. Your eyes were drawn to the very ornate ceiling that gave the large room a genuine feel of old San Francisco.

Across from the piano bar, in an alcove draped with maroon velvet curtains, sat an artist intent on sketching a posed female nude. Finely dressed people clustered around the piano listening to sad ballads being crooned by a rather husky, elegantly gowned, lady pianist.

Customers sipped drinks on casually placed couches or conversed around small cafe tables as they watched the artist sketch the middle aged woman lying on a velvet tufted couch. She held a strategically placed cluster of red grapes. Small curtained alcoves often used for smoking or private interludes were situated around the perimeter of this large room.

Arturo had been sent to San Francisco by his father to review a financial matter. The bank meeting, slated for afternoon, had ended in a successful discussion. The manager suggested going to Dominic’s for a drink before dinner. They were seated at a cafe table near the artist.

Sipping a Manhattan, Arturo noticed an attractive redhead sitting among friends at the piano bar. Her occasional sporadic laughter caused him to watch with interest as he and the banker discussed San Francisco night life. She was quite loud and the center of attention in her small group.

Surprising him she walked over to his table. What are you staring at?

Arturo immediately stood and though slightly embarrassed, introduced himself and his companion noticing she was taller by about two inches and very slender. Curly red hair hung loose to her shoulders with one side held back by two lovely blue crystal combs. Deep blue eyes demanded attention and sparkled in competition with the combs. A lovely peacock blue Chinese silk pantsuit hung loosely on her slim body complementing her hair and eyes.

Arturo explained, I find redheads fascinating and you’re quite intriguing sitting at the piano bar.

Laughing and seeming flattered, she sunk down into the offered chair.

Well, I’m Irish and all these freckles you see cover my entire body, every last inch.

Again rather embarrassed by the comment, Arturo was definitely fascinated.

May I ask your name? He resumed his seat and signaled to a passing waiter.

Can I trust you with that information? She watched Arturo carefully while taking a drag on her cigarette.

I’m a fifth generation Californian. In 1849 my family became landowners in San Diego just after California became a state. We’re trustworthy enough, wouldn’t you say, Raul?

Raul Sanchez, pleased to meet you Miss, and oh yes, Mr. Estoban is very trustworthy my dear lady, very trustworthy indeed.

There you have it, Miss…….? Arturo inclined his head toward her.

Charlotte McCane. My father would serve your head on a platter at dinner, if you were not considered trustworthy. Laughing, she put out her cigarette.

Drinks were ordered.

McCane, any relationship to Charles McCane of First National Bank? asked Raul.

That’s my dear daddy.

Later it was suggested they take a taxi to a small French restaurant across town for a late supper. Charlotte’s girlfriend, Victoria, had joined them by then and after some discussion they left. Arturo, the ever gentleman, escorted the ladies home after a delightful evening and at a respectable hour.

A year later almost to the day, Charlotte and Arturo were married at the Dolores Mission in San Francisco. Charlotte’s father was an added asset to the union.

The old mission was a lovely setting for our wedding and mother planned the perfect reception, Charlotte reviewed sitting in their suite at the St. Francis Hotel.

My beautiful wife, now the fun begins. Tomorrow we fly to Seattle where we begin our honeymoon with a private cruise to Alaska. Some fishing and exploring excursions will add excitement to our stay at the secluded lodge I booked in Juneau. A quiet honeymoon just as you asked.

Fishing and exploring for you, my love, I plan on being pampered at the famous Juneau health spa then do some sightseeing in a civilized manner. Stores and gardens are more to my liking.

Arturo had been raised in a household that maintained old fashioned Spanish tradition. He was reserved and quiet thus Charlotte’s Irish forwardness felt refreshing and helpful. Being an only child, Charlotte was very spoiled and this would cause Arturo concern in the years ahead.

Up early, Charlotte was making sure all the plans were underway for her favorite son’s birthday party. Holding a mug of hot coffee she walked into the main living room. The hacienda had been her home for 40 years. Good and bad times had been spent in these rooms. Stopping in front of the large fireplace she looked at the three photographs placed on the mantle, each taken to commemorate a son’s graduation from high school.

Removing the picture of her eldest son, she looked into the face of Juan Luis Estoban, known outside the family as Johnny. He had been conceived on her honeymoon. Identified as the good looking son he was somewhat of a loner and this aloofness made him a main topic of conversation at school, which had increased his popularity with the girls. Adoring this favorite son and wanting only the best for him, she had secretly chosen his future wife by the end of his junior year. Graduating Harvard like his father he came home, married, and settled into family life. He had been offered the family restaurant chain management position. He had increased profits and built another new restaurant. Lovingly she traced her finger across his smile.

Replacing Juan’s picture, she picked up Gustavo McCane Estoban’s picture. Born five years after Juan, she remembered him as the adorable chubby baby with red hair and freckles like her. He giggled and laughed through his first four years then something changed. School turned him into a sudden irritation and he went from a cute toddler to a hefty round faced kid with unruly red hair. It was thick and straight, nothing could control it and it stuck out in defiance under the gel she plastered on every morning before school. As puberty set in so did the acne, which was significant. This problem carried on into his twenties and unfortunately had left his face and back scarred even with the help of a dermatologist.

Not very popular in school, Gus got attention by being a loud mouth tease. Girls dated him because of the wealth behind his family name. When he graduated high school he had announced drunkenly at a party, I will come back to our ten year class reunion in a stretch limousine, smoking a Cuban cigar, with a bundle of money in my pocket. All you assholes will wish you’d been nicer to me.

She and Arturo had sent him to state college because of his rebellious attitude and poor grades, but he flunked out his junior year due to partying, drinking, and womanizing. Arturo gave him a job in the cattle business hoping he would settle down. He’s the truculent son. I guess he gets it from me.

Putting Gus’s picture back she picked up the last picture and stared into the face of her third son, Ricardo Alberto Estoban, known as little Ricky. Sighing, she sat down on the couch and studied the image. Ricky had been an accident, the result of a three day party spree at the hacienda. Born in her mid thirty’s, he was spoiled from the very beginning with everyone tolerating his unruliness and temper tantrums. Due to her increased social status at the country club she had left him in the care of the housekeeper much of the time. He was the typical late in life child. The family gave him what he wanted to shut him up. Consequently, he became a teenage terror. Not very popular in high school due to a cocky attitude, he hung around with the wrong crowd. Eventually drugs came into play and all that went with it, thus he eventually suffered the consequences.

Ricky was the smartest of the three brothers though he didn’t know it. Being a rebel without a cause, somehow he muddled through state college. Sadly when he came home to work in the family business he promptly got into some local drug trouble. Forced by the court to complete a drug treatment program, Arturo pulled some strings that ended with Ricky enlisting in the Army. The family backed this action hoping he would learn discipline. Will he ever learn to be his own person, or continue to feel challenged by his older brothers?

Surrounded by thoughts Charlotte got up and replaced the picture then wandered out to the patio, so many memories and changes since she had left San Francisco. Walking over to the wet bar she added some Irish whiskey to the coffee mug. It will be a full day, so get fortified.

* * *

Arturo was up early due to an appointment with members of the California Historical Society. Sitting behind a beautifully hand carved mahogany desk he listened to this small group in the study.

Mr. Babcock and I would like to thank you, Mr. Estoban, for allowing the society to declare this hacienda a historical site. We brought the signed paperwork and an additional personal plaque of recognition for your family, stated Mrs. Hendricks, president of the society.

The ceremony last week was very nice and the article in the paper explanatory. My family is honored to contribute to the Historical Society, Arturo said studying the prim and proper group.

Charlotte knocked lightly then entered the study. Hello, I want to welcome you to our home this morning.

Thank you, Mrs. Estoban. It’s lovely seeing you again, returned Mrs. Hendricks.

Review this article written about Ranch de Oro, Charlotte. Arturo stood offering her the paperwork and a chair.

Quietly sitting she read: "The Potrero hills above San Diego have harbored the Estoban family’s Rancho de Oro and Hacienda since 1849. It is surrounded by miles of white fencing some of which can be seen along the main road northwest of town. The entrance into the homestead has a majestic electronic gate that opens to a picturesque Oak tree lined road. This road curves through golden foothills, which gave the Ranch of Gold its name. Driving through these tree studded hills, you come to a very large compound of barns, warehouses, and holding corrals. Continuing past this area you eventually view a beautiful postcard scene of a small valley that centers an enclosed two story whitewashed adobe ranch house. This valley is tucked into the foothills beside a small lake.

"The California Historical Society recently proclaimed the old hacienda a historical site. A tall adobe fence encloses the house and once inside its ornate iron gate, you find large Spanish fountains and colorful flowerbeds throughout the grounds. A casual walkway leads to a long portico that shelters the entry’s massive hand carved mahogany doors. These doors were brought over from Spain by steamship.

"Several pathways lead to a large swimming pool and two clay tennis courts situated behind the ranch house. At night lighted pathways wander through adobe archways, around gardens with fountains, beside quiet alcoves, and into vine covered patios. The grounds are restful and serene.

"The original hacienda remains intact but rooms were added through the years as needed. The two story u shaped building is presently divided into three family living quarters. Two apartments over the detached four car garage are used as servant quarters.

A Plaque of Recognition has been placed outside the main entry gate with a second plaque displayed on the right side of the entry doors into the ranch house. Tours will be allowed only at specified times and arranged through the society.

Charlotte put the paper down as Lupe brought in coffee and scones.

Thank you, Lupe. A nice article don’t you think? Arturo addressed Lupe then Charlotte.

Yes, I believe our hacienda needed this recognition. Directing her conversation to the group, Thank you and excuse me I have things to attend to, Arturo and I are hosting a birthday party for our eldest son this afternoon. Enjoy the coffee and scones. Smiling courteously, she left.

THREE

An only child for five years, Juan found life wonderful during this time. His mother was young and full of energy with his father adorning her.

The Estoban family readily accepted Charlotte though her lifestyle was different due to her Irish upbringing and surrounded by San Francisco’s high society. She settled into her wifely duties of caring for Juan and Arturo. A Shetland pony, a swing set, a battery operated toy car to drive around, if Juan wanted it, he got it.

Arturo had black wavy hair like his father, a nicely trimmed mustache and expressive dark brown eyes. He was always dressed in expensive Italian suits except on weekends due to his active law practice. The Estoban and Rios Law Firm was a 45 minute drive into San Diego and a small apartment had been included in the office complex for late night vigils during important cases.

Arturo and Charlotte lived in the south wing overlooking the pool.

Grandfather Alberto often sat in the garden to watch his grandson play. Juan represented the future and continuation of tradition. Retired from the family businesses he sat in on major financial discussions, but Arturo and his sisters had taken over with his blessing. He had been a strong, kind patron.

Grandmother Rosa was a very jovial woman who loved to cook. Being a typical Spanish mother her main task in life was to feed the family. Her second love was gardening and she especially loved her beautiful rose garden. The hacienda always smelled of home cooked meals and fresh cut flowers. Everyone adored her, including the ranch hands. She and Alberto occupied the master suite in the north wing overlooking the main garden.

Charlotte stayed away from Rosa and the kitchen; instead she busied herself with menial household tasks and eventually becoming bored she joined the local country club where she learned to play golf and tennis, civilized games. She wasn’t the cowgirl type though Arturo often encouraged her to go horseback riding with him. She rode sidesaddle and went along only to appease her husband, but always complained of being sore afterward and eventually refused to go.

Just before Juan’s fifth birthday Grandfather Alberto died of a heart attack. His will was read in the large study by Arturo’s associate, Tomas Rios: "Juanita Morales and Maria Diaz, daughters to Alberto Estoban, each gain a personal profit of five percent from all rancho holdings related