“You ladies will just love our activity room,” Val said cheerfully, as they reached the last set of double doors. Hopefully it was the last one, anyway, Summer thought.
She tried to stay patient as the receptionist punched in another set of numbers on still another pin pad. They probably didn’t have half this much security at the White House.
The doors opened to a huge space that was so bright Summer couldn’t see anything at all for a second or two.
“My, how lovely,” Dorothy said. “I love solariums.”
“We call it our Florida room.” Val practically clapped in delight. “The residents adore it and the sunlight is so good for them.”
It was a cool space, Summer had to admit. Kind of like…well, a fish tank, with glass windows on three sides. In the corner, a fake white Christmas tree with white angel ornaments made a loud, annoying buzzing sound as it rotated on its stand. Someone needed to fix that.
“Which one is Frankie?” she asked.
Val looked confused.
“She hasn’t seen her godmother for years,” Dorothy said, quickly. “Isn’t that right, Summer?”
Oops. “Oh, yeah,” Summer said. “I think I was about six, maybe.” That’s how old Juliette-Margot was, so the age just popped into her head. She had a feeling that was also probably how old she’d been when she’d last seen her Grandma Sloan, whose condo she was living in now.
She didn’t remember anything about her grandmother. Her dad and whatever gold digger bimbo he was married to at the time—or was it her mom, Harmony?—had brought her and Joy to Florida to visit once.
Was her grandma living at Hibiscus Pointe back then? This place had been built in the eighties or something, so…yeah, probably. She didn’t remember much about it, except for the pool. It had seemed so much bigger when she was a kid.
And now here she was again in Florida, starting her whole life over. What would Grandma Sloan think of that? Had she been as nice as Dorothy? She hoped so.
Dorothy was kind of like a grandma. Except they were friends and detective partners. Maybe it was better not being related for real. In her experience, that caused way too many problems.
“There’s Frankie now, poor dear,” Val said, pointing toward a table of four seniors at a green felt-covered table across from the angel tree.
Luckily, two of the seniors at the table were men. That left a frail-looking woman snoring in a wheelchair with a purple afghan over her lap and another one who was dealing the cards. She looked like Angelica, sort of, except she was super tiny and her hair was blue.
Not the same almost-lavender shade of blue Summer had seen on some of the other older ladies around Hibiscus Pointe. More like the mom’s on The Simpsons.
“Frankie looks just the same,” Dorothy said, smiling at Val. “She hasn’t changed a bit, has she, Summer?”
“Nope,” Summer said. “She always was an amazing card dealer.”
That had to be true, at least. The tiny woman in the magenta, stretch-velour pantsuit was flipping cards around the table like a Vegas blackjack pro. “Aha! Looks like you’re all in, Stanley,” she said, turning up one of the guy’s cards as he smiled over her shoulder at the wobbly Christmas tree. “You, too, Myrtle,” she added to the sleeping woman on her right.
“What about me?” the second man asked, sounding a little anxious. “Am I in?”
“Bet on it,” Frankie said, taking a queen of hearts from the turned up cards in front of him. “And Sweet Lady Luck, would you take a lookee at this.” She grabbed another card, an ace of hearts, from Stanley’s pile and added them both to the ten, jack and king of hearts in front of her. “Royal straight flush. I win again. Hard to believe, huh?”
“That’s nice.” The second man fiddled with a button on his red-and-green argyle cardigan as Frankie swept her companions’ small, teetering stacks of nickels and dimes into a canvas bag attached to the walker beside her chair.
Jeez. Summer knew a few things about Texas Hold ’em from hanging around those high roller rooms in Vegas. One of her jerk exes—a long story—got banned for life for counting cards. But even if she’d known zero about poker, it was mucho obvious Angelica’s mom was a total cheater.
“Frankie, honey, what are you doing?” Val said, hustling toward the table.
Instantly, the teensy, blue-haired woman tried to grab back all the cards. “Bingo!” she called loudly.
Summer tried her best not to burst out laughing, as Val started scooping the coins from Frankie’s basket and dumping them back onto the table. “That’s my money,” Frankie said, throwing her arms over as much of her winnings as she could.
“No, Frankie, you can’t take everyone’s dimes,” Val said. “Game time is just for fun. You do want to have fun with all your nice friends here, don’t you?”
“Fun? Ha!” Frankie looked disgusted. “You should serve drinks in this place. Now that would be fun.” She frowned at Val. “I won that money fair and square. Who the heck are you, anyway?”
“I’m Val. You remember me, don’t you? Of course you do.”
“Oh dear,” Dorothy said to Summer in a low voice. “I’m afraid we won’t get much information about Angelica from her mother.”
“I don’t know about that,” Summer said. “She definitely knows her poker.”
“I’m just glad she’s in a nice, safe place like Hibiscus Glen,” Dorothy said.
This place was safe, all right. Maybe a little too safe.
The receptionist knelt down beside Frankie’s chair. “I’m Val,” she repeated. “I come by and say hi to you every day, remember? And guess what?” She pointed over her shoulder at Summer and Dorothy. “You have some nice visitors.”
Frankie immediately stiffened and her eyes darted in their direction. “What? I don’t want visitors. Never seen those two before in my life.”
Dorothy walked over and extended her hand. “Hello, Frankie,” she said smoothly. “I’m Dorothy Westin from Hibiscus Gardens, and I knew”—she glanced at Val—”I mean, I know your daughter Angelica.”
“Angelica?” Frankie’s thick, dark-penciled eyebrows shot up.
Well, that sure got her attention, Summer told herself. Were those brows black or navy?
“And this is Summer,” Dorothy added, motioning to her.
Summer dutifully came up next to Dorothy and gave Frankie the same big smile she usually reserved for Helen Murphy, the Hibiscus Pointe Residents Board president. “Hi, I’m your goddaughter,” she said. “Remember me?”
“Hmm,” Frankie said, her eyes narrowing. “I might.”
Yikes. Why was Angelica’s mom staring at her in that weird way? It was almost like she could see through her or something.
“I can’t be sure. Let me get a closer look at you.” The woman reached out and grabbed Summer’s wrist, pulling her all the way down to eye level.
Ouch.
“Oh, yeah. Sweet little Summer. I remember you real well.” Frankie leaned in even closer, and dropped her voice to a raspy whisper. “You need to get me out of here, honey. Right. Now.”
Chapter Six
“Well, hello there, Dot! Fancy meeting you here.”
Startled, Dorothy turned away from the poker table to find her good friend Ernie Conlon and his wife, Grace, directly behind her.
Oh, no. This was terrible. What were the Conlons doing at Hibiscus Glen? Grace had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s some time ago, but the two of them still lived together in their condo at Hibiscus Gardens. Had Grace—or both of them—had to move here to the memory care unit?
Surely Ernie would have told her. They saw each other practically every day.
“I could say the same about you,” she answered.
“We’re here for the card game,” Ernie said. “Grace loves coming here on Wednesday afternoons. You know, just for a break in the old routine at home.”
Thank goodness. “Of course, how nice.” Dorothy smiled at Grace, hoping the relief didn’t show on her face. Ernie’s wi
fe, serene and well-coiffed as always, smiled back.
Dorothy knew some of the residents at Hibiscus Pointe were under the impression that she and Ernie were involved in some kind of romantic entanglement, which was completely ridiculous. Ernie was married, after all, and neither of them would ever do anything that might be hurtful to Grace, who was a lovely person. And Ernie was devoted to her.
Nevertheless, Dorothy couldn’t help feeling glad she was still dressed in her nice outfit from the Waterman’s fashion show. Not that Ernie cared a whit about fashion, of course. As usual he was wearing his Hibiscus Pointe polo and checkered golf pants—the colors of choice today were red, black and yellow—and Grace had a festive candy-cane-striped bow tied to her wheelchair.
“Mind if we join you, everyone?” Ernie rolled Grace’s chair up to the table next to Frankie and Summer. “What’s our poison today, Frankie? You pick.”
“Texas Hold ‘Em.” Frankie’s eyes slid to Val. “I mean, bingo.”
Why was Angelica’s mother holding on to Summer’s wrist like that? Dorothy wondered. Good heavens. Her friend seemed to be trying to tell her something, frowning and jerking her head toward Frankie.
Val’s beeper went off, and the receptionist glanced down at her waist. “Oh, darn, that’s Lucinda again,” she said. “I have to go, everyone. Nice to meet you, Dorothy and Summer. Do stop at the front desk and say good-bye when you’re done with your visit.”
“Thank you,” Dorothy said. Was it possible Detective Caputo had arrived to talk to Frankie and the staff? Should she follow Val to find out, or would that be too obvious?
Ernie settled in at the table on the other side of Angelica’s mother. “Okay, Frankie, deal ’em out,” he said, rubbing his hands eagerly.
Dorothy tried not to smile. Really, was this Wednesday afternoon poker game outing for Grace, or Ernie? The man was as much of a card shark as Frankie.
Fortunately, Angelica’s mother had to let go of Summer’s wrist to deal the cards. Quite expertly, too, Dorothy noted, as Frankie snapped the cards into a perfect bridge and waterfall before shooting them around to each player at the table.
Summer moved to a safer distance, rubbing her wrist.
“Ten dollar ante,” Frankie said to Ernie. “You, too, Goddaughter,” she added to Summer.
“Um, I don’t think I have any cash on me,” Summer said.
That was probably true, Dorothy thought. Summer never seemed to carry any form of payment other than her father’s no-limit credit card.
“No problem, Summer my girl, I’ll spot you,” Ernie said. “Come on, we need more players.”
Summer glanced her way, and Dorothy gave her an encouraging nod. Maybe a nice, friendly card game would keep Frankie busy while she followed Val back to meet the detective. And Summer would be there to make sure Angelica’s mother stayed safe.
Hopefully she knew how to play poker. Dorothy had never even cared for bridge, which was highly popular with so many of the ladies at Hibiscus Pointe. She suspected Frankie Downs had little use for the game either.
The woman had to have some of her faculties intact, at least, with her considerable card dealing prowess and enthusiasm for poker. Hopefully later she would be able to give them information about her daughter, no matter how trivial the details. It was possible Frankie might even reveal whether someone had threatened the two of them—and identify that person.
Dorothy excused herself and hurried back toward the reception area. Luckily, she caught up to Val in time to slide through the doors behind her, as she’d neglected to note the numbers for the pin pad code.
“Mrs. Westin, do you need something?” Val asked, as they walked briskly down the hall together. Dorothy was glad she’d worn her best AeroLite shoes.
“Oh, no, thanks,” Dorothy said. “I thought perhaps I dropped my reading glasses out by the desk. Without them, all those cards are a blur.”
“I hear you,” Val said, pointing to her own glasses perched on top of her head. “That Frankie has such an obsession with cards, doesn’t she? Poker is too complicated for many of the other residents to follow, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to get her interested in bingo instead, but she just won’t bite—not even if we play for nickels.”
“Frankie seems very sharp,” Dorothy said, still trying to keep pace with the receptionist.
“Well, sometimes she is,” Val said. “And sometimes she’s way out there. She certainly is very…determined.” The blonde woman’s face turned a darker pink. “I really shouldn’t discuss resident health issues.”
“Heavens no, of course not,” Dorothy said. “So sorry. I’m sure Detective Caputo is on her way by now to speak to her about her daughter. If I could be of any assistance in telling Frankie the terrible news, I’d be most happy to join them. Summer and I found Angelica, in fact, so maybe…”
Val stopped short in the hallway, and stared at her with an expression of horror.
Oh dear. It had been a huge mistake to bring up her and Summer’s involvement, Dorothy realized. She had just shown her hand more fully than the unwitting members of Frankie’s poker club.
To her surprise—and relief—Val’s eyes filled with tears. “You poor thing, Mrs. Westin, finding Angelica,” she said. “I never get used to witnessing the end of life myself, but it’s part of my job, unfortunately.”
Mine, too, Dorothy thought, but she wasn’t about to say so. Instead, she nodded sympathetically. Probably the less she said right now, the better.
Val checked both ways down the hall and leaned closer to Dorothy. “It’s not Detective Caputo we’re waiting for to break the news to Frankie,” she said. “It’s Violet. You must know her—Frankie’s younger daughter, the real estate agent? Sort of an odd duck, if you ask me. I’ve only met her once, and I don’t think the two of them are that close.”
“Ah,” Dorothy said. Well, that was interesting. How close were Violet and her sister Angelica? she wondered. Was it possible there had been some issues between them, too?
“She’s driving down from Vero Beach, so she should be here in another hour or so.” The receptionist blushed even pinker this time and covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about Violet being a little…different. I’m sure you are much better acquainted with her than I am, since you’re a close family friend.”
“Absolutely,” Dorothy said. Or, at least, she and Summer would plan to make Violet’s acquaintance very soon.
*
Summer was having a hard time concentrating on the Hibiscus Glen poker game. For one thing, Frankie wasn’t easy to keep up with. Plus, she and Ernie kept arguing over the rules.
“Hey, you forgot to put down the burn card,” Ernie said to Frankie.
“I did not,” Frankie said, dropping another stack of coins into her walker bag. “We don’t need to have one, anyway.”
“Ernie’s right, Frankie,” Summer put in. “The dealer always puts a burn card face down before the flop.” She was careful not to add, That way, we can be sure you aren’t trying to cheat. It might not be such a hot idea to tick her fake godmother off right now.
What had Frankie meant about busting her out of this place? Val had said she’d tried to escape earlier today. Did Angelica’s mom just hate it here or did she know she was in danger? Or was she just crazy? And why the heck had she chosen her as a possible accomplice, anyway?
But the biggest question was, should she help her? She really needed to talk to Dorothy, but she had taken off like a shot and left her with Angelica’s card shark mom.
Dorothy had to have had a good reason, though. Had Detective Caputo shown up already? If so, she was okay with just staying here and playing poker.
Hopefully Shane Donovan would come back from wherever he was soon to take over the case.
Or at least call her.
“So sorry I had to step away, everyone,” Dorothy said, returning to the table. Summer thought she looked a little out of breath. “Have I missed anything?”
&nb
sp; “Not much,” Ernie said, sounding grumpy. “Frankie’s been making things up.”
Frankie shrugged as he gave Dorothy his chair and went to get another one from the next table. “Dealer’s rules.”
“Dorothy, can I talk to you alone for just a second?” Summer asked. “I need to…”
“Mrs. Westin!”
Great, Summer told herself as Val the receptionist waved from the doorway and hurried toward them. What did she want? She and Dorothy were never going to get anywhere on the investigation, at this rate.
“I found your reading glasses!” Val sounded super pleased with herself as she pulled a beaded chain holding a pair of rhinestone glasses from the pocket of her scrubs.
Ugh. Dorothy would never wear anything as unflattering as those. She wouldn’t let her.
“Thank you, Val,” Dorothy said, as the receptionist came up next to her and triumphantly placed the glasses on the green felt table. “But I’m afraid those aren’t mine.” Why did Dorothy look so guilty?
“Oh.” Val let out her breath like a deflated pink balloon.
“Those are my glasses,” Frankie said, frowning.
Doubtful, Summer thought. She was wearing another, equally ugly pair on top of her head right now.
Maybe Angelica wasn’t worried about Frankie because her mom was in some kind of danger, Summer told herself. It could have been because Frankie had no clue what she was doing anymore, and was a danger to herself. The fact that Angelica ended up being killed could have just been some horrible coincidence.
“So how’s the big game going, everybody?” Val asked in a perky voice, scooping up the glasses again. Frankie didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s my turn to deal,” Ernie said. “Come on, fork over the deck, Frankie. Pretty please?”
Frankie held the cards against her chest. “Nope.”
Summer looked at Dorothy. Had she come to the same conclusion about Angelica’s mom? It was hard to tell. Dorothy’s face had zero expression as Frankie continued to bicker with Ernie.
“Oh, no, this isn’t good,” she heard Val say in a low voice to Dorothy. “We don’t want her in a mood. Especially right before she hears…the news. Violet is on her way.”
Fashionably Late (The Ladies Smythe & Westin) Page 6