I turned to go toward my car, but Grandmother headed for the main building. “Too lazy to walk?” she asked, a smile on her lips. “I’m just playing. I didn’t tell you we’re only headed to the rec room here.”
“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. “I assumed we would actually be going somewhere.”
“You know that awful saying about assuming, don't you?”
“I sure do,” I said.
“I wouldn’t like for you to be labeled a donkey.” Grandmother sure was in some mood. Not only was she dressed and made up, she was making jokes.
“Today is pinochle day,” Grandmother said. “You’re in for a treat.”
“You already said that,” I told her.
“What's wrong?” Grandmother had seen my wary expression. She was concerned. “You don't know how to play, do you?”
She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't quite right. Spending a morning at a retirement community playing pinochle wasn’t exactly my idea of being productive. I had to remind myself about the two miles, the brownies, and the blog posts. I’d gotten a lot done in the past few days.
And there was the murder to think about. Something I’d promised Luke I wouldn’t look into. But socializing with my Grandmother’s friends could hardly count as breaking that promise, could it?
“How'd you know?” I mocked enthusiasm. “I guess you’re going to have to teach me.”
“You'd hardly believe it, but once upon a time I, too, didn’t know how to play. I didn't learn until your grandfather and I joined Super Seniors.”
That was interesting. My grandfather held a special place in both of our hearts. If this was something they enjoyed playing together, then maybe I could enjoy it too.
“You’ll catch on faster than he did,” she assured me. Then she stifled a giggle as she reminisced. “He never did get the hang of it. In fact, he was pure rubbish. But he sure was entertaining to watch.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“There's no pressure,” she said. “You can watch a game or two, then try your hand at it when you think you've got the hang of things.”
I followed behind her, and we made our way to the rec room. It was a large open space, with at least a dozen tables set up. At each, there were four chairs, most with four senior citizens in them. But some had three. Grandmother led the way to a table with only two other people.
She waved to them, and they motioned for her to hurry over. By the looks of it, things were about to get started.
In the middle of our table, there were several decks of cards and a piece of paper—I assumed it was for keeping score.
“Sorry we’re late,” Grandmother said.
“It's my fault,” I admitted. “I didn't know we were going to be playing cards today.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Dot said. “This isn't cards. It’s pinochle.”
“She’s a virgin,” Grandmother said. And I couldn’t help but blush. I’d never heard my grandmother use that word in my life.
“I hope you don’t mind teaching me today?”
“Not at all.” And before Grandmother could mount a protest, Dot was already shuffling and dealing out the first hand.
“I told Allie we could show her how to play with a few rounds of three person pinochle. Then she could try her hand at teams with me.”
Dot smirked, not drawing back the cards.
“Allie, it's nice to meet you,” the fourth person at our table said. “I'm Cleo. I hate to break it to you, but we only play teams. Itten that right, Dot?”
“Sure is,” Dot said. “You're going to have to learn the hard way.”
Grandmother looked across the table at me and shrugged. “It was worth a shot,” she mouthed.
“Thanks for trying,” I whispered.
Now, it looked like my grandmother was going to have to babysit me. And she was going to lose. I didn’t know a single thing about this game.
I eyed Dot and Cleo. They each had a bit of a twinkle in their eyes. If I didn't know any better, it looked like they were out for blood.
Over the next several minutes, the trio tried to explain how to play the game. But every time it started to make sense, someone would add something new. Melds, trumps that are switched up, and tricks. I understood some basics from years of playing spades with my grandfather, but this was overwhelming. No wonder he was no good.
Scoring was even more complex. It took me to the end of the game to figure out that getting the last trick in the game was a good thing.
We started a new game. Dot shuffled like she’d worked in Vegas. Once Dot dealt us the next hand, I began trying to sort my cards. The suits and the melds part was a little bit tricky, but I thought I was getting it.
“I'll turn this card over from the stock,” Dot said. “Diamonds will be our trump this hand.”
“Now,” Grandmother said, “arrange your cards into your melds. Put spades together and so on. See if you have a run.”
“She should also be on the lookout for three or more cards of the same sequence,” Cleo added.
I looked at my cards, bit my lip, and sorted the best I could.
The ladies at the table began confidently placing their melds down on the table. I was so focused, I didn’t realize the whole table had become distracted. The ladies, my very own grandmother included, began to sit up a little taller. They lit up with smiles. Dot had a twinkle in her eyes.
“Now, who is that talk drink of water?” Cleo asked, not so discreetly.
The commotion was from behind me. I turned to see what the hubbub was about. As soon as I saw him, I knew why they’d come unglued.
I started to answer Cleo. But before I could get a word out, Dot said, loud enough for everyone in the building to hear, “It’s that young detective. He’s been hanging around here a lot lately. He’s interviewed me three times.”
Dot was proud that Javier thought her worthy of three interrogations—even if he didn’t call it that, it had to be that. He must suspect Dot, or at the very least, suspect her of lying about something.
“Oh, the front desk said he called on me yesterday,” Cleo said. “If I knew he looked like that, I would’ve gotten back in touch with him immediately.”
“Allie, isn't that your detective friend?” Grandmother asked.
All the ladies turned to me. Their eyes filled with questions at the word friend. My cheeks flushed bright pink.
“Yes, it is,” I said. “That's Detective Javier Portillo.”
13
“How well do you know the detective?” Dot raised a penciled-on eyebrow.
“Now, now,” Grandmother scolded. “They're just friends. Allie’s boyfriend is also quite handsome.”
“Is he, now?” Cleo smirked. “You know I’ve never met a man who didn’t fall for my charms.”
I pictured Melvin. He might’ve fallen for Cleo’s charms, but he didn’t stay attached to them. I gave her a tightlipped grin. “I don’t think I’ll be introducing you to Luke, if that’s the case.”
“Good idea,” Dot said.
I turned to get a better look at Javier. With him was a smartly dressed middle aged woman. “Who’s that with him?” I asked.
“That's Lisa Evans,” Dot said. “She's the director of this place.”
“She’s a bit stuffy,” Cleo confided.
“More than a bit,” Dot whispered. “And she doesn’t like to gossip. I do my best to stay out of her way and let her do her job.”
How kind of you. What Grandmother saw in these old biddies, I’d never understand.
Lisa and Javier were headed straight to our table, and he was wearing quite the quizzical expression. Hopefully, Javier didn't think I was here interfering with his investigation. My being here was completely innocent.
Heads turned from every table as the senior ladies all ogled Lanai’s hunky detective. Then the whispers began. Some more a whisper than others.
“He sure is handsome,” I heard one old woman say.
“Hide the money,” an old man sai
d. “This ain’t gambling. We’re playing for fun. Aren’t we, Joe?”
“Sure are,” Joe shot back at him. “But I was goanna win that hand.”
“The hell you were,” another said.
Others knew exactly why Javier was there. The feet around here may shuffle along, but the rumors spread like wildfire.
At my table, all three women folded their cards down on the table and waited. I followed suit, so to speak.
Lisa and Javier stopped behind me. I had to crane my neck to look up at him. I felt even more out of place than I already was. He just shook his head at me, his left dimple showed he wasn’t upset per se, but he wasn’t exactly pleased either.
“Ladies, I hate to interrupt your game,” Lisa said. “But this is Detective Javier Portillo with the Lanai Police Department. He has some things he needs to talk to you about.” Her voice was filled with more self-importance than I had anticipated. And even she had doe eyes for Javier as she waited for him to speak.
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans,” Javier said.
“It’s Ms. Evans. But you can call me Lisa,” she said with more haste than she’d had interrupting the game.
“Sure, Lisa, then. Thanks again.” Javier gave her the international signal that she could leave. But she stayed rooted to the spot. He shook his head again. I was happy that I wasn’t the one he was aiming for anymore, but then he found me once again. “You and I,” he said to me, “we’ll talk later. Right now, I need a little bit of Miss Cleo’s time.”
Cleo's cheeks flushed. It wasn’t necessarily guilt. But her earlier comment about charming any man she met didn’t seem to be on her mind. She was dreading her conversation with Javier.
Ever the gentleman, he stepped over beside her and assisted Cleo out of her seat.
“Mrs. Evans, uh, sorry, Lisa,” Javier began, “is there a quiet place around here for us to talk?”
“Yes, sir,” she said too eagerly. “Just over there, off to the side of the stage.”
Javier nodded and walked arm in arm with Cleo to the secluded spot. The rec room served for multiple purposes. This was the same room they had church in every Sunday. Choirs visited. And Grandmother had even told me about a magic show.
“Oh, dear,” Grandmother said when Cleo was out of earshot—it wasn’t very far. “I hope everything goes okay. She looked worried. Don’t you think she looked worried?”
I couldn't have agreed more, but I didn’t say as much.
“Well, if I was her, I’d be a bit worried too,” Dot said matter-of-factly.
Did Cleo have something to hide? Miss Jeanie and Dot thought so.
“Why?” I asked. “Do you really think she killed Melvin?”
Dot’s jaw dropped. “Cleo? Kill someone?” She let out a guttural laugh. “Highly doubtful.” Dot looked around the room suspiciously. Then she motioned with her pointer finger for my grandmother and I in closer. We huddled together toward the paused game of pinochle.
“No,” Dot said. “But between us girls, she did a few unkind things when Melvin dumped her. That man—” Dot shook her head angrily “—he liked to play the field. When he moved onto his next lady friend—”
“She didn't hurt anyone, did she?” Grandmother asked.
“Nothing but a bruised ego,” Dot said.
This lined up with what Miss Jeanie had told me. “So, she’s a bully?”
“That depends on your definition.” Dot shrugged. “If you ask me, she was just defending her territory. She’s a lioness. It’s part of why I like being on her team at cards.”
I hoped she was right, that Cleo didn’t hurt anyone—or kill Melvin. But I knew one thing for certain. Javier was going to get to the truth.
There wasn’t anything for us to do but sit and wait for their interview to be over. I absentmindedly began messing with my cards. “Y'all, I don't think I like pinochle. What do you say to some spades? Are you up for it?”
My grandmother shrugged. Dot pursed her lips but nodded that it was okay.
“Are you sure you know how to play this one?” Dot gave me the evil eye. “I don’t want to embarrass you twice.”
That didn’t seem like an honest statement.
“She sure does.” Grandmother came to my defense. “I taught her myself. We spent every spring break when she was younger honing her skills.”
“Breeding a champion, I’m sure.” Dot smirked.
“Don't get your hopes up,” I said. “I’m sure to be rusty. Mind dealing, Dot?”
“Not at all, sweetheart,” Dot said. “Prepare to be thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Dot dealt, and we organized our cards. I was confident I could pull at least four tricks but told them three to be safe. With Cleo gone, I was tasked as the score-keeper.
We were midway through the game, several hands played, when everyone in the room’s attention was drawn to the door on the side of the room. It slammed open, and then shut as Cleo ran off, bawling.
“I guess we’re not going to find out who’s the better card player,” Dot said. “At least not today. If you’ll pardon me, ladies, I'm going to go check on my friend.”
“We’ll take a raincheck,” Grandmother said. “I hope Cleo’s okay.”
With that, she was off.
“Going to check on her friend, my hind quarters,” Grandmother chided. “More like off to get the latest scoop.”
“Grandmother!”
“Sorry, I didn't mean to let that slip.”
I could tell she meant it. There was something about this community that brought out the spunk in her. She twisted her fingers beside her mouth as if locking her lips up. Probably a safe practice here at Mossy Oaks.
The commotion died down, but everyone's eyes darted over to Javier. He was an innocent fish swimming in a sea of sharks. Grandma and grandpa sharks.
He didn’t pay their old eyes any attention. He found his way back over to our table. I couldn’t tell if it was my turn under his microscope. Was he unhappy to see me? His smile seemed to say otherwise.
I found myself beaming back.
“Grandmother,” I said. “This is my friend Javi—Detective Portillo,” I said. “Javi, this is my grandmother, Evelyn Prim.”
“Pleased to meet you Mrs. Prim.” Javier reached out to shake her hand.
“The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard so much about you.” She smiled like a Cheshire cat. I wanted to crawl inside my skin. There was no hiding from this embarrassment. “All good things,” Grandmother added.
“Good things? Those are the lies,” he joked. “But we’ll have to sort fact from fiction another time.” My heart skipped a beat. He was already leaving…
Javier glanced around the room as if looking for someone or something. “I was hoping you two could help me out,” he said. “I seemed to have lost Mrs. Evans. She was my eyes.”
He pulled out his notepad. His fingers flipped through it briskly. He came to a sudden stop, tapping the page. “Can you point me in the direction of a Bitsie Drummond?”
Grandmother adjusted her glasses on her face, scanning the room. When she spotted Bitsie, she made a clucking sound. “She’s right over there.”
“Over where?” Javier asked.
“Sorry, my mother taught me it’s rude to point. If you don't mind helping me up, young man, I’ll introduce the two of you.”
I searched the spot where Grandmother’s eyes had been. I saw a woman shrink in her seat as if she didn’t want to be found. I couldn't blame her for being apprehensive. Javier’s last meeting hadn’t gone over very well.
Javier held out his arm, and my grandmother steadied herself, using it. There was a bulge of muscle there I’d never noticed before. Has he been working out?
Not even Luke had treated Grandmother so kindly. But honestly, Javier put the bar up high.
I frowned. I didn’t want to be left alone at the table. So, I followed their lead. We went over a few tables to where Bitsie was seated. She was the woman who I’d seen slump in he
r chair.
“Bitsie,” my grandmother said loudly. I guessed Bitsie was a little hard of hearing. “This is Detective Javier Portillo. Detective Portillo, this is Bitsie.”
The table looked perturbed at having to stop their game of pinochle.
“That’s nice,” Bitsie said. “I’ll be with you in a sec. We’ve got to finish this hand.”
Javier was only slightly taken aback. “By all means,” he said, grinning.
They finished the hand, and she turned back to him.
“Now, Bitsie,” Javier said, “that’s an unusual name.”
Bitsie craned her neck. “You’re gonna have to speak up.”
Javier winced, flustered. Then he put on his best fake smile. “I said, Bitsie, that’s an unusual name.”
“Is it?” Bitsie asked. “The name’s Elizabeth Drummond. Bitsie’s a nickname I’ve had since I was two years of age. Now, what can I help you with, officer?”
“It’s Detective,” Javier said. “Detective Portillo. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk something over with you. Over there, if it’s not too much trouble.” He pointed in the direction of the area he’d previously used to speak with Cleo.
Bitsie smiled curtly. “I'm not sure my grandson, Sean Ryan, would approve. He's a lawyer—my lawyer. And I've watched all those shows on TV.”
I turned from looking at Cleo to see how Javier would react to that. In true fashion, he flashed his million-dollar smile. He brushed it off, along with her previous attitude.
“Your ambivalence is completely understandable,” he said kindly. “We can go chat, and if at any time you feel uncomfortable, you can stop and call Sean. Unless you want to call Sean now and head down to the station? What’s best for you?”
“What’s best is not to be interrupted during pinochle,” Bitsie remarked. “But I guess that’s fair enough.”
She eased up out of her chair. Javier and my grandmother unlocked arms. I hadn’t realized he was still supporting her.
“Thank you, ladies.” Javier tipped his finger to his temple in salute. “I'm sure we’ll be in touch soon.” He looked to me. “One of us owes the other a coffee. I think I’m ready to take you up on it.”
Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 26