Mike Befeler Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series E-Book Box Set: Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder, Senior Moments Are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder

by Mike Befeler

  “Sure.”

  We took the elevator to the twelfth floor. She unlocked her door, and we walked into an apartment similar to mine, but much neater. Colorful watercolor paintings of flowers and Hawaiian mountains decorated the walls. I walked over to the sliding door and looked out over the city below. “Nice view from the high rent district.”

  She laughed. “I had to wait six months to get this place on the top floor. Only disadvantage is the longer elevator ride, but at meal time I get on before it fills up. Can I offer you a drink?”

  “What do you have?”

  “Whatever you want.” She opened her cabinet, revealing a fully stocked bar.

  “Bourbon and water,” I said.

  She put on some music. Soft instrumentals from Broadway plays. We settled in on her couch.

  One thing led to another, and we were mashing lips together.

  I felt an arousal in my groin.

  We came up for air.

  “I don’t usually do this,” she said, “but there’s no guarantee how much time is left. . . .”

  “Yeah,” I said. “At our age, it’s a victory just to wake up each morning.”

  “I don’t want you to think I’m forward, Paul.”

  “I’m delighted that we’re here together.”

  I reached over and kissed her again. We re-engaged in a close embrace.

  I took a breath, and Marion’s head bobbed up.

  “I want to make sure this is what you want to do,” I said.

  She ran her hand through my hair. “Our children probably wouldn’t approve of this, but so what.” She giggled.

  I was amazed and astounded that I was here with this wonderful woman. I had to be fair to her before things went any farther. “There’s something you need to know about me,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re not married or a murderer?”

  I thought of the second alternative, but decided I’d avoid bringing up the investigation.

  “No,” I said with a laugh. “Nothing like that. I have a memory problem.”

  “Meyer mentioned something to me. But we’re all a little absent-minded at our age.”

  “It’s not forgetting some things. I forget everything.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Every morning, when I wake up, I can’t remember anything from the day before. Apparently, I’ve been to all kinds of specialists, and there doesn’t seem to be any medication that helps. I won’t remember you tomorrow morning.”

  Marion wrinkled her forehead. Then she set her lips and her eyes flared. “You mean you didn’t remember the party and our conversation in the gazebo last night?”

  “That’s right. I had to jot down notes about what happened and a reminder to make a dinner reservation. This isn’t something I’m proud of. I try not to call attention to it, but I thought you ought to know.”

  She looked at me again, and her smile returned. “Well, if that’s the biggest problem with you, Paul, I guess I can handle it. I have one thing to help you.”

  She walked over to her dresser and brought back a picture of herself. “Here’s something for you to keep in your apartment to help you remember who I am.”

  I laughed. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  She sat back on the couch. I cupped her chin and kissed her again. She leaned against me, and I held her close to my body.

  We re-engaged, and I marveled at her soft lips. Was this what she wanted? Was this what I wanted? Hell. Who knew?

  As long as she wasn’t offended by me, why not? But what if I couldn’t perform? No telling what condition the old equipment was in. Hadn’t had any practice lately. What if something went wrong?

  Then she stood up, took my hand, and led me toward her bed. She doused the lights, and next I knew, our clothes were coming off. Took a little while given all the arthritic fingers. When she pulled the covers down, I sniffed a scent of lilacs.

  My heart was thumping, and I didn’t know if it was excitement, fear, or I was having a heart attack. I took a couple of deep breaths. My ticker kept on going, so I started fondling her breasts. Not bad for an old broad.

  She sighed.

  This was getting interesting.

  She rubbed up against me.

  Prospects looked promising.

  I ran my hand down her stomach.

  She spread her legs apart.

  I took another deep breath. Now was the moment of truth. Then it happened. For some reason my penis decided to go on strike. Where it had been engorged one moment, the next it shrank to the size of a slimy worm. It wouldn’t come back. Where was Viagra when I needed it?

  Marion reached down and started fondling the worm. Nothing happened. I tried thinking of all the half-naked female movie stars I could remember. The worm wriggled, but didn’t grow.

  I thought of caves and warm beaches. Finally, the worm received the message and revived.

  Not wanting to take any chances, I sent it toward the cave. Unfortunately, the cave opening was kind of dry. I pushed. She pushed. She held the cave door open. I plunged in.

  We were doing it. I thrust back and forth. She thrust forth and back.

  We revved up some good friction. This went on for awhile, and I was gasping for breath. Would I collapse, complete, or have that heart attack first?

  Finally, I shot my wad and lay there exhausted.

  Marion stroked the back of my head. I kept panting for several minutes. I was too tired to move.

  She seemed content for me to lie there on top of her. My back hurt. I hoped I hadn’t thrown it out.

  I could imagine an attendant coming to separate us because I couldn’t move. Eventually, I rolled off and lay next to her, still breathing heavily. In my youth I would have been back at it, but now I couldn’t conceive of doing that again for a month.

  I almost dozed off, but then realized that if I went to sleep I wouldn’t remember anything. If I woke up here in the morning with my usual blitzed memory, I’d have no clue where I was or what was going on.

  Marion was now snoring, so I climbed out of bed, grabbed my clothes, threw them on, picked up her picture, and sneaked out the door to return to my apartment. I hoped I wouldn’t run into any late night murderers roaming the halls.

  Chapter 10

  I woke up and stretched. I knew where I was! I remembered having sex the night before with Marion. This was weird. I looked at Marion’s picture on my dresser. I didn’t even need that as a reminder. After getting dressed I went down to breakfast and knew where to sit.

  “I know who the hell you are, and I didn’t even have to read my journal,” I said to Meyer.

  He raised his eyebrows. “This is the first time that’s happened.”

  “Yup. Memory just like it’s supposed to work.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?”

  I stopped cold as if he had slapped me. “I don’t know. Maybe something I ate. Or. . . .”

  He grinned at me. “I bet you got a little action last night and it shook that clogged brain of yours loose.”

  “Damn. You may be right.”

  “So, Paul, the whole thing is simple. You just have to have sex every night and your memory will be fine. Your brain is obviously hardwired to your prick.”

  “I was accused of that as a teenager. But now. . . .”

  “You need to get your juices flowing and your brain won’t reset when you go to sleep.”

  “But I don’t think I’ll be up to that again for weeks.”

  “Then you’ll be back to forgetting.” Meyer squinted in the direction of a table where two women sat. “I can’t tell for sure, but I don’t think Marion is here yet. She’s usually one of the first down for breakfast.”

  “Hope I didn’t kill her,” I said.

  “Don’t get carried away. She’s probably too embarrassed to show up.”

  I ate and watched Henry shovel in his eggs and bacon. “It’s even good to recognize you, Henry, although you still don’t carry on much
of a conversation when you’re stuffing your mouth.”

  “Maybe you’ll get the clap,” Henry said without looking up.

  “Well, aren’t you the loquacious one?” I said. “You’ve been eavesdropping on my conversation with Meyer.”

  He grunted and continued to chew his cud.

  As I was getting ready to leave, Marion arrived at her table and waved to me.

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “She survived.”

  Meyer laughed. “Remember. You need a repeat performance if you want your memory to work. Just don’t marry her. You’d break up our trio here and probably wouldn’t get it anymore.”

  For the first time I noticed that Marion sat with two other women.

  “She has two friends,” I said to Meyer. “ I should hook them up with you and Henry. Henry, you got time between your coin collection and baseball statistics to entertain a woman?”

  “Been there, done that,” he said.

  “Henry made the rounds when he first arrived here,” Meyer said. “He was quite the stud.”

  “Did they want someone who was short enough to kiss them on their navels?” I asked.

  “It didn’t matter about his lack of stature,” Meyer said. “He was one of the few available bachelors. But he insulted a number of the women afterwards. They stay away from him now.”

  “Hard to imagine,” I said. “Henry has such a sweet personality.”

  * * * * *

  After dinner that night, I asked Marion to take a walk with me.

  “Do you remember who I am?” she asked.

  “I could never forget you,” I said. “Thanks for putting up with my defective memory. I have your picture right in the middle of my dresser.”

  Marion invited me up to her place for a repeat performance.

  I squeezed her hand. “I’d love to, but my old body needs some time to rejuvenate.”

  She pouted. “Rain check then?”

  “You bet. Give me a few days.”

  We parted with a hug, and I headed back to my apartment.

  * * * * *

  The next morning at breakfast, Meyer said, “How’s your memory?”

  “I can remember you from yesterday, but it’s all pretty hazy.”

  “Looks like the effect of your cure wears off over time.”

  “That’s the shits. I’ll have to go back to using my journal and having you remind me.”

  “Have you signed up for the picnic today?” Meyer asked.

  “What picnic?”

  “Once a month there’s an excursion. Today’s the day for a trip to Lanikai Beach.”

  “I’m not much for the ocean,” I said.

  “Not many people go swimming. You can walk on the beach and eat sandwiches.”

  “I can handle that.”

  “So all you have to do is sign the list on the counter across from the elevator on this floor,” he said. “We meet in front of the building at eleven for the bus.”

  After breakfast I found the sign-up list, added my name as the nineteenth victim, and then headed up to my apartment for an exciting morning of watching the wallpaper.

  At ten-to-eleven I took the elevator down to the first floor, exited the building, and found Meyer pacing back and forth by the curb, near a group of old biddies seated on benches.

  He looked at his watch. “About time you arrived.”

  “Relax,” I said. “Plenty of time to spare. Henry joining our little expedition?”

  “No. He’s working on his coin collection.”

  “Henry the party animal. Missing all the excitement.” I stared at a woman napping with her mouth wide open and drool flowing down her chin.

  The bus arrived, and everyone shuffled, limped, and staggered aboard. I dropped into the seat next to Meyer.

  “I’m surprised this many people are willing to expose themselves to skin cancer,” I said.

  He grinned. “If the sun hasn’t gotten them by now, it probably won’t. Besides, this is pretty much the same group that shows up for all the events . . . the active residents.”

  I glanced around at the occupants of the bus. “Hate to see the inactive ones.”

  “Everybody happy today?” the bus driver shouted.

  From around the bus came a mixed chorus of “yes.”

  “Quick trip,” he continued. “We’ll park by a right-of-way. You’ll have a short walk down the path to the beach. Our picnic today is ham, turkey, and beef sandwiches, chips, cookies, and lemonade.”

  “I don’t know if my poor heart can stand all the excitement,” I said to Meyer.

  “You have to get in the swing of things around here, Paul. There are lots of activities for those who want them. But everything’s optional.”

  “Like living?”

  “We’re going to have to keep working on that attitude of yours.”

  “My attitude is one of my best attributes.”

  The crowd was mainly women with a few married couples. As the two unattached men, we offered to help the driver carry the food down to the beach.

  Meyer and I made two trips, hauling lunch supplies. After completing our civic duty, we strolled down the beach.

  “You don’t seem that happy at Kina Nani,” Meyer said.

  “Gee. And I thought I was hiding my feelings better. Just because I’m stuck with a bunch of old farts, present company excepted, accused of theft and murder, and have a brain that holds memories like a bag with a hole in it, what more could I ask for?”

  “There’s Marion.”

  I came to a stop. “That’s true. She’s quite a gal. But a day from now I probably won’t remember her from a pin cushion.”

  “Unless your memory gets jogged.”

  “Yeah. But I can’t count on that very often.”

  “You could always just accept your situation.”

  I squinted at him. “Like you accept going blind?”

  “Touché.”

  “I have more fun complaining and being a general pain in the ass,” I said.

  “Maybe when we get your named cleared, you’ll feel better.”

  “I like the way you said ‘we.’”

  “Of course, Paul. I’m here to help you any way I can.”

  “This from an ex-lawyer?”

  “And regarding your attitude toward lawyers, we’re not all slime bags.”

  “Well, you’re the first one I’ve met who’s a human being.”

  Meyer chuckled. “You just don’t know many lawyers. There are all kinds.”

  “Yeah, but I still prefer the dead kind.”

  We came to the east end of the beach where the sand gave way to rocks and sandbags.

  “This used to be a wider and longer beach,” Meyer said. “There’s been a lot of erosion. If this continues, in a few more years there won’t be any sand left.”

  “I can identify with that. Kind of like my memory.”

  We sat down on a remaining spit of sand and watched two kayaks paddling toward the Mokulua Islands a mile offshore.

  “There was a time when I would have swum out to those islands,” Meyer said, as he threw a pebble into the water.

  “Are you nuts? There was a time when I would have stayed right here. Still is.”

  “You’re not a big fan of the ocean,” he said.

  “I like sitting on the beach and watching a scantily clad bikini bunny or a good sunset, but get me in the ocean and I get the shakes. Give me dry land where my feet can rest on something solid, and there aren’t any lawyers swimming around with me.”

  We resumed walking. I kicked a rock as we headed back toward the picnic.

  “I have to track down whomever stole Tiegan’s stamp collection,” I said. “I don’t believe our benevolent police are searching for anyone else, especially since I’m their prime suspect.”

  “At least they haven’t arrested you yet.”

  “Small consolation. I expect Detective Saito is waiting for one more piece of evidence to fall in place before he hauls me to the
clink. I’d have to trade one cell for another.”

  “Don’t be so negative. At Kina Nani you have a room to yourself.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And I get to eat with a hundred of my closest friends.”

  “You do have one friend.”

  I put my hand on Meyer’s shoulder. “And I’m grateful for that.”

  After an exhilarating lunch of roast beef peppered with grains of sand, I watched a couple of wrinkled old broads dip their toes in the water. Then when the excitement reached too high a level for me, I strolled back to the bus.

  I sat by myself contemplating my predicament. Getting old was a constant battle between worry and boredom. Would my memory get worse? Would I start forgetting during the day? Could I get Detective Saito off my back? Maybe being a murder suspect added a little spice to my life. No. It gave me one more worry. Once I figured out who stole those stamps and I got Saito on the right track, I could settle down to the real excitement in my life. Things like watching Henry eat.

  What about Marion? She was a good person and didn’t deserve to be burdened with someone who had a defective memory. What kind of relationship could it be if I didn’t even remember who she was every morning? Unless we’d had sex the night before.

  Meyer climbed up the stairs to the bus and plopped down next to me.

  “Are you getting anti-social?” he asked.

  “Needed a little time to myself.”

  “I thought you already had enough of that.”

  “That may be so, but I needed to think things through,” I said.

  “Did you reach any conclusions?”

  I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. “Only that I need to get Detective Saito focused on the murderer rather than me.”

  “That’s a noble cause, but so far there’s nothing to clear you,” Meyer said.

  “Crap. Guilty until proven innocent.”

  “Fortunately, the system doesn’t work that way,” Meyer said.

  “Maybe not, but that’s how Saito thinks.”

  Meyer shrugged. “We’ll find something. Hang in there.”

  “Sure. I don’t have any friggin’ choice anyway.”

  * * * * *

  At dinner Meyer said, “I’ve been checking up on the murder case.”

  “How am I doing?”