Gypped

by Carol Higgins Clark

  Norman jumped up. “Zelda, have some water.” He reached over Regan and grabbed the glass next to the bed.

  Zelda turned on her side, pushed herself up, and leaned on her elbow. “Thanks,” she said, taking the glass in her hand. Slowly she took her first sip.

  “Are you okay?” Norman asked, sounding frightened.

  Zelda nodded. “Yes. I am. Honestly. Please. Sit.”

  Norman obeyed. “Do you want me to roll over?”

  Zelda started to choke. “Norman!” she protested. “Are you trying to kill me? The water’s coming out of my nose.”

  “I’m trying to defuse tension.”

  “I know, but don’t make me laugh when I’ve got water going down my throat.”

  Norman took the glass from her.

  Regan was grinning as she reached for the flowered cardboard tissue box on the night stand. These two would always be friends no matter what turns their lives might take. She pulled out the last tissue and handed it to Zelda. “The box is empty.”

  “I’ll get another,” Norman said, running into the bathroom.

  Regan lifted the empty box off the nightstand. A plastic coffee stirrer was right behind where the box had been, the end of the stirrer resting in a few drops of liquid. A damp ring was on the wood. Zelda was always careful about making sure her water glass went back on the coaster, Regan had observed. And she wouldn’t place a stirrer on the wood, even if this furniture had seen better days. Did Rich bring in a cup of coffee with him today? If he did, he’s not very considerate. I just hope that’s his biggest flaw.

  “Here’s a new box,” Norman said.

  Regan pulled out a tissue, and leaned over toward the nightstand.

  “Did my water glass do that?” Zelda fretted.

  Regan stopped and turned to Zelda. “I don’t think so. This stirrer was wet,” she said, holding it up. “Did Rich bring a cup of coffee in with him today?”

  “No, he brought me a cup of tea from the health food store. He said it was good for upset stomachs. It tasted awful so I only had a couple of sips.” Zelda stopped, her face registering shock. “Regan, do you think he put something in that tea to make me groggy?” she asked, her voice getting higher with each word, “so that I’d sign that paper? I was feeling better before I drank that tea.”

  It’s certainly possible, Regan thought.

  26

  Maggie parked her car and walked into Tracy’s, a moderately priced department store. She passed the makeup counters, dodging all the saleswomen who were dying to have her try their brand of lipstick, perfume, eye shadow, you name it. The store wasn’t too busy. She took the elevator to the second floor.

  They must be wondering why I’m walking into the petite section, Maggie thought as she made her way to the sale rack. What I do for my career is ridiculous. She started rifling through the hangers in the size four section.

  “Can I help you?” a woman asked, her glasses dangling from a silver chain around her neck.

  “I need a red outfit, and a pale outfit, in petite four. It goes without saying that it’s not for me.”

  “Tell me about the person you’re shopping for.”

  I’ve only met her once, Maggie thought. “She’s fairly conservative and is about seventy years old.”

  “Hmm. We have a lovely red dress that I’m sure she’ll love.”

  Maggie watched as the saleswoman scurried away from the sale rack as though it were radioactive. Uh-oh. I might have taken on more than I can afford. I should have just asked Gladys if she’d like to be in the commercial. She probably has a red dress in her closet. A pale one, too.

  As she waited, Maggie resumed looking through the sale items. It wasn’t hard to understand why they hadn’t been snatched up. Patterns that were nauseating, styles that looked uncomfortable. On the very last hanger was a droopy pale gray pantsuit marked down to $59.99. Perfect. Maggie lifted it off the rack.

  If Gladys comes out tonight wearing something suitable for the commercial, at least I’ll be able to return one of the outfits I buy. No matter how much she needed the money, Maggie would never return clothes that were gently worn. A girl in her acting class bought designer outfits whenever she had an audition for a part that called for them, and returned the clothes afterward. Maggie always prayed that someday a price tag would pop out during an audition, hopefully in front of a big-time director.

  “Isn’t this darling?” the saleswoman asked as she approached, holding up a red dress with thin white piping around the collar, and buttons down the front.

  “That’s beautiful,” Maggie said truthfully. “How much is it?”

  “Let me see,” the woman said, putting on her glasses and checking the tag. “Three hundred and fifty-nine dollars.”

  “No can do.”

  “That’s the only red outfit we have in the store that is petite four.”

  “I’ll have to look somewhere else,” Maggie said, “but I’ll take this.” She held up the gray pantsuit.

  The saleswoman could barely hide her disdain. “Is this woman you’re shopping for a friend of yours?”

  Maggie crossed two fingers and held them up. “We’re like this.”

  After she paid, Maggie hurried downstairs, making a wide berth around the makeup section. I have to hurry, she thought. There isn’t much time to find a nice red outfit in petite four. Maybe I should try one of those upscale thrift shops.

  At her car, Maggie reached into her purse for her keys and suddenly panicked. My makeup bag isn’t here! she realized. I left it at that party last night. I had it in the bathroom off the kitchen so I could powder my nose. I didn’t notice this morning because I ran out to shop au naturel.

  Maggie’s skin was very sensitive, so she brought her own makeup to shoots. It was specially ordered, and not available in department stores. Every other brand she tried caused her skin to flare up.

  Quickly she unlocked the door and got in the car. She pulled out her phone and searched for Norman’s number. I hope he doesn’t have an attitude. I hope someone will be at that crazy house so I can run over there. Heck, I hope he answers the phone! She found the number and dialed. After several rings his voice mail picked up.

  “Hi, it’s Norman. Leave me an interesting message.”

  “Hi, Norman, it’s Maggie, one of the waitresses from last night. I realized that I left my makeup bag in the bathroom off the kitchen. I really need it. Are you or Zelda there today? Could I please stop by? Thanks so much. My number is. . . .”

  After she hung up, Maggie was a wreck. I shouldn’t have been such a wise guy to Norman last night. I hope he doesn’t act spiteful and delay calling back. Maggie started the car. If Norman doesn’t call back soon, I’ll just go over to the house.

  What’s the worst that can happen?

  27

  Zelda, take it easy!” Regan urged. She put her hands on Zelda’s shoulders to calm her. “We’ll have that liquid on the nightstand tested if necessary.”

  “All of a sudden it feels like everything is crashing down on me!” Tears spilled from Zelda’s eyes. “My whole world has been turned upside down,” she sobbed.

  “I know,” Regan said. “But we’ll set it right.”

  “How?” Zelda demanded, wiping her eyes.

  “We’ll have your statements examined and if we find anything questionable, I’ll do a background check on Rich. We can always find someone else to handle your money.”

  “What about Bobby Jo?” Zelda asked wearily. “I’m stuck with her. The worst part is, I feel as if I’ve lost my father.”

  “We’ll find out everything we can about her, too,” Regan said. “If she’s okay, then we’ll have to pray that she grows on you.”

  “I honestly don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Regan sighed. “That’s a tough one, Zelda. But your father doesn’t sound like someone who would let your relationship with him suffer. I remember all the stories you told me about your parents when we were at the game show. Your fat
her loves you.”

  “And so do your friends!” Norman interjected.

  “That’s right,” Regan agreed. “The ones I met last night were terrific. And before long I just know you’ll meet the right person who will complete your life.”

  Zelda sniffled. “I have a better chance of being left another eight million dollars.”

  “Whoever thought it would happen once?” Regan asked.

  Norman patted Zelda’s back. “Everything will be okay.”

  “I don’t know why I’m overreacting. I coach people on how to handle the problems in their lives, and look at me. If my clients could see me now, they’d never come back.”

  “Are you kidding?” Norman asked. “You don’t even charge some of them. And you told me just this morning that you help them in other ways. They should be thrilled to have you as a coach.”

  “I bought one of my clients lunch yesterday and we both ended up with food poisoning.”

  “That’s not your fault,” Regan said.

  “I know,” Zelda sniffled. “And I did buy him clothes that he really needed for some auditions.”

  “Now it’s time to let people help you,” Regan said. “Why don’t we start by taking a quick look at your financial statements? Hopefully that will put your mind at ease.”

  Zelda wiped her eyes. “Okay. But they’re at my apartment.”

  “Do you want me to go get them?” Regan asked.

  “I’ll go,” Norman offered. “It won’t take long.”

  Regan looked at him. “Are you sure? If you have things to do around here—”

  “I’m sure. I know where everything is.”

  “It would be helpful if you brought back any papers or documents that Rich had anything to do with,” Regan said. “That includes e-mail and legal documents.”

  “Okay.”

  “Zelda, do you have a will?” Regan asked.

  “Yes, I told Rich today that I wanted to change it because of Bobby Jo.”

  “Norman, bring that back, too.”

  “It’s in the safe,” Zelda told him. “The key is in a little green purse hanging on a hook in my bedroom closet. You can’t miss it.”

  “I’ll return shortly,” Norman assured them.

  “Stop at a drugstore and see if you can pick up a small glass bottle with a tiny eyedropper,” Regan instructed. “We need something like that to collect the tea on the nightstand.”

  “No problem.” Norman hurried out of the room.

  Regan sat down. “Zelda, we haven’t talked about Gladys. She pays your bills?”

  “Yes. Everything that isn’t automatically charged to my credit card.”

  “What else does she do for you?”

  “She does my taxes. I don’t make a lot of money coaching but she keeps track of all that. And she enters all my expenses into a computer program called Monthly Math. At the press of a button I can find out how much I spent so far this year on things like my maintenance or my mortgage or find out how much I donated to charity. It’s helpful at tax time.”

  “I’ve heard of other programs similar to that, but not Monthly Math. We should tell Norman to be sure and bring back that paperwork.”

  “I don’t have any yet,” Zelda said. “I received the money last November. Gladys started me on the program at the beginning of this year. She said she’d give me the full accounting when the year ends.”

  “But Zelda,” Regan said. “It’s called Monthly Math. She should be sending you a monthly statement, shouldn’t she?”

  “I never thought of that until now. But sometimes when I’m on the phone with her I ask how much I’ve spent on whatever, or how much I’ve made from my business. She always gives me an amount that sounds right. Should I call her and ask her to e-mail me what she has so far for this year? Norman can print it out at my apartment.”

  “Don’t call her yet,” Regan said. “Let’s see what the statements from Rich look like first. Norman told me that you met Rich and Gladys after Florence Natalie died and that they had worked for her.”

  “Yes.”

  “How long did you know Florence?”

  “We were neighbors for almost ten years.”

  “And you never saw Rich or Gladys in your building?”

  “No. I never saw anyone going in or out of Florence’s apartment except Florence and her dog. He was her constant companion. She told me she liked to take him on long walks whenever she had the energy.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” Regan said. She looked at the drops of tea on the nightstand. “Let’s not wait until Norman gets back to do something with that liquid. Just in case we have to test it. I don’t think we will. You don’t have a little bottle, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Let me go downstairs and take a look around the kitchen. Why don’t you try and close your eyes.”

  “I will.” Zelda reached for Regan’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough. If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would do.”

  “I’m glad to help in any way I can, Zelda.” Regan left the room and hurried downstairs. She was walking across the living room when her cell phone rang. It was Jack. Thank God, she thought. I came down just in time.

  28

  Norman grabbed his beeping phone off the kitchen counter and raced out of the house. When he was in his car, he quickly checked for messages. Someone had called from a number he didn’t recognize. Forget it, he thought, tossing his phone on the seat, I’ll deal with it later. He started the car and backed down the driveway. At the end of the street he waited until the coast was clear so he could pull out and turn left.

  There was so much traffic. They should put a light here, he thought. But they won’t spend the money on a street with only one house that no one lives in. Finally there was an opening Norman thought he could make. He pressed on the gas, screeched forward, and hung a left.

  Zelda lived in a new complex in the hills just north of Sunset Boulevard. He was there in fifteen minutes. Once inside her bright, comfortable apartment, with its beautiful views of Los Angeles, he headed to her bedroom closet and found the key to the safe in the green purse. He hurried down the hall to Zelda’s office and opened the door into the walk-in closet. He put the key in the large safe, opened it, and looked inside. Stuffed to the gills, he thought. I only wish I needed a safe. He removed several jewelry cases, Zelda’s passport, her birth certificate. On the bottom he saw a manila envelope:

  LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ZELDA ALICE HORN

  This gives me the creeps! Norman thought. He removed the envelope, returned everything else, closed the door, and locked the safe. He placed the will on Zelda’s desk and put the key back in the green pocketbook. In the hall closet, he found a small suitcase. Back in the office he opened the suitcase on the floor and started looking through the file cabinet. He found the account statements and tossed them in the suitcase, followed by files on Florence Natalie, Zelda’s clients, and her father. Regan told me to bring back anything that might be relevant, Norman thought. It all seems relevant! Zelda talked to Rich about everything going on in her life.

  Finally Norman finished. He grabbed the will and tossed it on top of the other papers, zipped the valise, and wheeled it to the front door.

  Anything else I should take care of while I’m here? he wondered.

  See if she has any messages. Most people call her cell phone, but still. He went over to the answering machine in the living room. The light was flashing. He pressed play.

  “Zelda, this is Rich. Wait, I called your home phone by mistake. Sorry.”

  What a genius, Norman thought.

  The next message was from Los Angeles Sunny . . .

  The message stopped. “Your mailbox is full,” the machine announced. Three beeps followed.

  “Zelda!” Norman gasped. “You have to erase old messages.” He pressed play. The machine announced that there were twenty-eight messages, and started to replay them. Most were from Rich, telling Zelda to give him a call. Norman liste
ned, taking brief notes on a pad by the phone. He deleted the messages he knew Zelda absolutely didn’t need; they dated back a month. She should let me clear her machine once in a while, Norman thought. I’m ruthless with the delete button.

  “Hey, Zelda . . .”

  Rich’s voice again, Norman thought with disgust.

  “I thought I’d catch you. You must have left for your stay at the Scrumps estate. I hope you enjoy it. I’ll call you on your cell. Bye.”

  Before the message disconnected, Norman heard Rich mumble something and laugh. What was he saying? Norman played the message again, his ear cocked over the speaker of the machine. After Rich’s words about the Scrumps estate ended, there was a few seconds of dead air, then Rich sounded like he wasn’t near the phone when he sarcastically mumbled, “Wait until she—” and laughed. A high-pitched beep signaling that the message had ended made Norman jump.

  “Wait until she what? Norman shouted. “I knew from day one you were no good!” Impatiently, he listened to the rest of the messages. A moment later he was out in the hall waiting for the elevator, Zelda’s suitcase by his side. I have to find an eyedropper fast, he thought, pressing the elevator button again and again. Zelda was so upset about everything, and she had a right to be, but it was more than that. He’d never seen her cry like that. She’d once told him that she had two teeth pulled when she was in college. They gave her a drug that put her to sleep and she woke up sobbing.

  There was no doubt in Norman’s mind that Rich had laced Zelda’s tea. Why else would she have reacted like that today?

  29