The Secret of Casa Grande Mexican Mystery Stories #1

Aroused by a slight noise in the room, Jo Ann sleepily tossed back the turbulent black curls from her forehead and slowly opened first one eye, then the other. She lay staring half dazedly as the solid doorlike shutters swung back, letting the rays of the morning sun filter into the room through the iron bars of the window. Where was she? Why the iron bars?

Slowly her gaze traveled over the room, taking in the high, heavily beamed ceiling, the bare plastered walls, and finally resting on Peggy sleeping peacefully beside her. Everything floated again before her mind’s eye: their long trip to Mexico, their midnight arrival at this great old stone house, and their warm welcome by Peggy’s friend, Florence Blackwell, whom she had never seen before.

The next moment the Indian woman, who had wakened her by opening the heavy shutters, noiselessly crossed the room and began arranging dishes on a small table beside the bed.

“_Buenos dias, señorita_ [Good morning, miss],” she said softly in Spanish as she noticed that one of the girls was awake.

“Ah—_buenos dias_,” stammered Jo Ann.

Again the woman spoke to her, but Jo Ann shook her head. After the woman had repeated her words very slowly, she was able to understand a few phrases.

Disturbed by their voices, Peggy suddenly sat up in bed, opening wide her dark-fringed hazel eyes. She, too, was startled for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings; then, noticing the servant and the expression on Jo Ann’s face, she burst out laughing. “What’s the matter, Jo?” she asked teasingly a moment later. “Can’t you understand what she’s saying?”

“I think she’s trying to tell me something about Florence, but I’m not sure. I wonder where she is.”

Almost simultaneously there burst into the room a small trim girl with smooth fair hair and gentian-blue eyes. “Good morning, sleepy-heads,” she laughed, dropping down on the foot of the bed and fanning herself with a large sun hat. “Girls, this is Juana. Did she deliver my message?”

“She tried to,” Jo Ann replied, “but I’m afraid she wasn’t very successful.”

Turning to the servant, Florence spoke rapidly in Spanish.

Juana grinned broadly, bowed to the girls, and jabbered something they could not understand.

“She’s trying to tell you how happy she is that you have come to stay with her Florencita,” explained Florence.

“Tell her that we’re delighted to be here,” put in Peggy promptly.

“How I envy you—being able to speak Spanish that way, Florence,” Jo Ann sighed. “I’d give anything to do half as well.”

Florence smiled. “Oh, you’ll get on to it in no time.” As she had lived more than half of her sixteen years in Mexico, Spanish was perfectly natural to her. It seemed so simple that sometimes she found it easier to express herself in Spanish than in English.

“Though I’ve studied it two years, I have my doubts about ever being able to speak it fluently,” said Jo Ann slowly. Noticing Florence’s flushed face she added, “Where’ve you been? What time is it?”

“Almost ten o’clock. I’ve just been to market.”

“To market? Why didn’t you call us?”

“Well, I knew you girls would be tired and sleepy after your trip, so I didn’t disturb you. I go to market early every morning. I like to do the buying myself.”

“Promise you’ll call me next time. I didn’t come down here to lie in bed and sleep all the time. There’s too much to do and see.”

“All right, then; I’ll call you tomorrow. But come on, let’s have breakfast. I’m ravenous after my walk, and I know you two must be starving.”

“If having breakfast served in bed is your idea of our helping you to keep house, then I’m all for it,” declared Peggy gaily as she flopped her pink-pajamed legs over the side of the bed. “It suits my taste exactly.”

Florence nodded smilingly toward Juana. “It wasn’t my idea. It was hers. She’d be terribly hurt if we didn’t let her wait on us. After you two get rested from your trip, though, I’ll set you to work planning meals and cooking—and everything.”

“Well, I’m going to enjoy being waited on as long as I can,” laughed Peggy.

Sitting on the side of the bed, clad in their gay pajamas and eating their breakfast from an exquisitely inlaid tea table, Peggy and Jo Ann felt very sophisticated indeed.

“This is the most delicious orange juice and the best toast I’ve ever tasted,” declared Jo Ann, a moment later.

“It’s the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten in my whole life,” added Peggy with her usual exaggeration.

Florence turned to the servant, who had just returned with a plate of hot toast, and repeated their remarks in Spanish.

From that moment Juana was their devoted slave, anticipating their every wish.

As soon as they had finished breakfast, Jo Ann and Peggy dressed for the street, Florence insisting, much to their disapproval, that they wear hats. “The sun is too hot here in the middle of the day to go out without something on your head,” she explained.

While Peggy was arranging her hair in neat auburn waves, Jo Ann, who had finished her hasty toilet, stepped to the door leading into the hall and stood taking in every visible detail of the strangely constructed building. The immense rooms, each opening onto the long central hall, seemed dark and gloomy, owing to the thick walls, the concrete floor, the heavy doors, and the iron-barred windows. Though the bright-colored rugs, the gay-flowered chintz, and a few well-chosen pictures added a cheerful homelike note, the general effect was one of austere simplicity.

Having noticed Jo Ann’s interest, Florence came up beside her and, slipping her arm around her waist, asked, “How do you like our house? It’s very old, you know.”

“I love old houses,” Jo Ann replied quickly. “This one is extremely interesting—so different from anything I’ve ever seen.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ve been thinking of studying architecture when I go to college.”

“Would you care to see the rest of the house? There are some rather unusual features about it.”

Jo Ann’s dark brown eyes sparkled. “I’d adore it!”

“I, too,” put in Peggy, who had come out in time to hear Florence’s words.

Florence pointed to the open door on the right. “This is the sitting room, but Mother and I stay in the office with Dad more than in here. Come on and I’ll show you the office.” She led the two girls across the hall, but stopped a moment later, saying, “The office door’s closed—Dad probably has a patient—but I can show you the other rooms. The kitchen is the most interesting room in the house, I think.”

She took them into the dining room and on to the end of the long hall, then turned into an immense room having three large windows all heavily barred.

“My goodness, you could ’most put our whole house into this one room!” exclaimed Peggy. “I’ve never seen such a huge kitchen before in a private residence. Why do you suppose they built it so large?”