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

  “As long as he stays still. If he so much as lifts his head, though, you’ll have blood-spattered grass.”

  Pitman moaned again.

  When the police arrived, I removed the stick from Pitmans’s back.

  Nate explained what had happened to an officer who wrote everything down in his notebook.

  Pitman stood up, his wild red hair poking out like he’d put his finger in an electric socket. “I sawed the trees down. I’ll never do it again, but save me from this maniac with the gun.”

  “What gun?” I asked as I leaned on the stick.

  Pitman’s eyes widened.

  “This guy’s been sawing off trees,” I said. “He’s guilty of that and of producing awful sculpture.”

  After the police led Pitman away, Nate invited me inside.

  “Thanks, but I need to head home. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt anything between you and Helen.”

  His cheeks reddened. “We were . . . uh . . . only enjoying a little time together.”

  “Hey. It doesn’t matter. You’re practically married.”

  I waved good-bye and continued on my journey, knowing I had done my part to make the world a safer place from criminals and lousy artists.

  When I arrived back at my domicile, I found that my family had returned.

  “How’d you enjoy the show?” I asked.

  “Great, Grandpa. Terrific singing.”

  Allison came up to me. “What happened to the lamp in your room, Paul? I went in to check on you, thinking you might be home, and I found broken pieces all over the floor.”

  “I meant to clean that up. I had an exciting evening and got a little carried away.”

  * * * * *

  I woke up refreshed and stretched my arms. Damn, what a beautiful day! I hadn’t even read my journal, and I could remember the day before and my date with Marion. Our little romp the night before had certainly cleared my pipes. I even remembered having a dream. The image lingered of me prancing around in a meadow full of sawed-off trees with a group of red-headed midgets in orange crab outfits. Maybe it was just as well that I normally couldn’t remember my dreams.

  After dressing, I came into the kitchen, whistling. Jennifer, Allison and Denny were all gathered at the table.

  “You certainly seem chipper today, Paul,” Allison said.

  “Yes. I feel like a young man again. Not a day over eighty.”

  “Are you ready for breakfast?”

  “No. I’m meeting Marion over at her hotel. But I’d like to take everyone out to lunch today. I thought we could get together with Marion and her daughter.”

  “That works for me,” Jennifer said. “No swim meet today.”

  I asked Denny for a suggestion of a good restaurant.

  “Why not go to the Boulderado? It’s a nice spot, right downtown on Spruce and Thirteenth.”

  With that settled, I hiked over to Marion’s hotel and called her from the lobby. She said she would meet me in the restaurant on the second floor in five minutes.

  I took the elevator up and selected a corner table for us next to tall windows covered by filmy curtains. I looked up at a balcony on the floor above that was covered with paintings of geese, salmon and a fishing bear. The far wall was made of knotty pine. I felt like I was in a modern log cabin in the wilderness of Boulder.

  Marion arrived wearing a black pantsuit with silver trim. Damn, she looked good.

  “Have you reconsidered?” I asked.

  She placed a finger to her chin. “I seem to be having memory problems this morning. You’ll have to remind me.”

  I took a deep breath. “We discussed living together in your place in Venice.”

  “Oh, that.” She smiled. “Of course I’d still like to do it.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Before you leave today, I want to take you and Andrea to lunch so she can meet my family.”

  “That can be arranged. We’ll check out, eat with you and then hit the road.”

  “Great. I have an errand to run this morning, and we’ll meet you two at the Boulderado at eleven-thirty.”

  We feasted on unfertilized chicken babies and pig parts and washed it down with gallons of caffeine.

  With my stomach full, I sat back and admired my companion. “I feel so comfortable with you, Marion.”

  “That’s good to hear. We’ll see how you feel after we’re around each other every day.”

  “I’m looking forward to the opportunity.”

  I now had to figure out a way to direct Detective Lavino to the right criminals so I could leave the state.

  “But, Marion, you have to be aware that I might not be around that much longer.”

  “All the more reason for us to live together now. We have no time to waste.” She smiled at me. “I think you’re going to last a good many years. I know from last night that you have a lot of energy left.”

  We parted. I caught a bus into town to run my errand and returned to Denny’s digs to collect my family for lunch.

  After sprucing up, I shouted upstairs. “Let’s get a move on.”

  Allison strolled downstairs. “You seem awfully nervous, Paul.”

  “I don’t want to keep Marion and Andrea waiting.”

  I herded everyone into the family jalopy, and we cruised to the Boulderado.

  After all of my hassling, we arrived first. Within five minutes, Marion and Andrea joined us. Allison and Andrea hit it right off, talking of schools, raising kids and the differences between Boulder and Southern California. Marion and I held hands under the table like teenagers.

  After we had ordered, I picked up a knife and clinked it against a water glass. “I have an announcement to make.”

  “Paul, you have moisture on your forehead,” Allison said.

  “I am a little nervous.” I extracted a handkerchief and wiped off the perspiration. I returned it to my pocket and pulled out a small box. “I wanted all of you to be here for this.” I pulled an object out of the box and held it out toward Marion. “Marion, will you marry me?”

  There was a hushed silence.

  Marion put her right hand to her mouth.

  I took the opportunity to grab her left hand and slip the ring on her finger.

  “I don’t know,” Marion said, tears in her eyes. “We only discussed living together.”

  “If you don’t marry him, Mother, maybe I will,” Andrea said.

  “You can’t, dear. You’re already married. Besides, he’s mine.”

  I wondered momentarily if I had been played like a trout on a line. Then I shrugged. So what? I wanted this. And at eighty-five I should have my own way. Provided I could get Lavino off my back.

  “If we live together, we can consider it part of an extended engagement,” I said.

  Marion admired the ring. “It fits perfectly. How did you arrange that?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “This calls for champagne,” Denny said. He snapped his fingers toward a waiter.

  “Can I have a taste, Dad?” Jennifer asked.

  “No.”

  “Aw, Dad.”

  When the champagne arrived, the waiter filled glasses. We raised them, Jennifer holding up her water glass, and we clinked them together.

  “Marion and I have decided to spend all our money so we won’t burden you with the hassle of an inheritance,” I said.

  Marion punched me in the shoulder. “We did not!”

  “Just testing the sense of humor of the younger generation. So am I marrying you for your money or are you marrying me for my money?”

  “I think that it’s probably a pretty even playing field,” Marion said.

  “Good. We won’t have to hire any slimy lawyers for a prenuptial agreement.”

  After lunch, Marion and I stood in the parking lot saying our farewells.

  Marion handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s Andrea’s cell phone number. Give me a call tomorrow while we’re on the road.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”r />
  “When do you think you can join me in Southern California?” Marion asked.

  “I have a few things to wrap up.” If only it were that simple. “I’m hoping within a few weeks.” Dreamer.

  “I’m missing you already.”

  “Why don’t you wait for that until you’re on the road?” I hugged her tightly, and then she and Andrea drove off.

  “Grandpa, this is so exciting. I knew you and Marion belonged together.”

  “This puts more pressure on you, young lady. You need to help me get cleared of all charges so I can join Marion.”

  “Not to worry. Your cases are in capable hands.”

  I punched my right fist into my left hand. “I want to see some results, damn it.”

  “Oh, Grandpa. You say the funniest things.”

  * * * * *

  That afternoon Jennifer and I took a walk together so we could connive over my evening plans.

  “At the Colorado Mountain Retirement Properties’ promotional program tonight, I’ll have to find a way to determine if Previn is the murderer.”

  “See if he slips up, Grandpa.”

  “I need to confront him again. He’s arrogant enough that I might be able to force that.”

  “Be careful. If he’s the murderer, he knows how to kill people with his bare hands.”

  “Maybe I should wear body armor.”

  “You’ll have to outsmart him, Grandpa.”

  “That’s my plan. My mental acuity against his. As long as I don’t fall asleep.”

  “Keep on your toes.”

  “You’re my backup. If I’m not back by eleven, call Detective Lavino. I have his phone number in my room.”

  “I’ll do it, Grandpa.”

  With that settled, we completed our walk and headed back to our humble abode.

  I now had a good woman counting on my ability to escape from Lavino’s clutches. I couldn’t let Marion down.

  * * * * *

  That evening after dinner, I dressed for my evening escapade and returned to the living room.

  “Do you want a ride?” Denny asked.

  “That’s okay. The bus goes right by the Millennium Harvest House. I can catch it there and back.”

  “If you’re stuck, call.”

  If I were to be stuck, it would probably require more than a phone call. I’d have to see what I could do on my own.

  I caught the bus, paid my fare and sat down. Then I spotted a familiar face across the aisle. I savored this experience of remembering something from the day before, thanks to Marion.

  “Aren’t you the taxi cab driver with a PhD in literature?” I asked.

  His eyes shot up to see me. “Yeah. Do I know you?”

  “You gave me a ride from the Flagstaff House last night.”

  “Oh, yeah. Now I remember.”

  “Why are you riding the bus?”

  “My cab broke down.”

  “I can identify with that. My memory is kind of like your taxi cab.”

  * * * * *

  Exiting the bus, I waved good-bye to my ex-taxi buddy and strolled along

  Twenty-eighth Street toward the Millennium Hotel. The warm June air rustled through my hair as I looked toward the Flatirons, now hiding the setting sun. So into the lion’s den.

  In the lobby a bright banner identified Colorado Mountain Retirement Properties Gala Event with a large red arrow pointing down a hallway with yellow duct tape strips marking the way. I followed the yellow brick road to a conference facility reception area littered with people. Bright red, blue, green and yellow balloons covered the walls. I felt like I had found the circus. A sign over the doorway read, “Win an Alaskan cruise for two.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked a matron sitting at a table.

  She gave me a tired smile, like her lips were ready to wear out. “We’re holding a raffle for a cruise. Just fill out a form.”

  “Where do I get one?”

  “From any of the sales people. They’re wearing red jackets.”

  What the hell? I would add my name. If I won, Marion and I could go on a honeymoon cruise. I wouldn’t mind visiting Alaska. As long as I had a sound ship under me.

  I spotted a few red jackets in the crowd. Shit. Except for them, all the other people milling around were old farts. More women than men.

  I selected one red jacket-clad man, an innocuous fellow who didn’t fit the Special Forces mold, and approached him.

  “I understand you’re my ticket to Alaska.”

  Like a light switch, a smile appeared on his face and his hand shot out. “Miles. Miles Haviland. And you are?”

  I shook his hand. “Oh, I’m having a good time.”

  His smile disappeared momentarily. “I meant your name.”

  “Well, why didn’t you ask? I’m Paul Jacobson. I’m seeking you out to enter your cruise raffle.”

  “Let’s sit down at that table over there.” He pointed toward a table covered with a white linen tablecloth.

  Once seated on folding chairs facing each other, he said, “Now, I need to discuss with you our wonderful Colorado Mountain Retirement Properties.”

  “You can spare your breath. I’ve been to a pitch before.”

  He wagged his finger at me. “You can’t get off that easy. You have to listen to my presentation to enter the raffle.”

  I stared him in the eyes. “I’ve seen drawings of the facility, and I’ve visited the place where your so-called retirement home is supposed to be built. Do you know that the land isn’t even zoned yet?”

  “There must be some mistake.”

  “No, your bigwigs are leading you astray. Unless you’re in on the scam as well.”

  He turned his head from side to side like he was searching for an escape hatch.

  “Are you going to offer me a founder’s spot for a mere two hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Sshh.” He put his finger to his lips. “We aren’t discussing that tonight.”

  I did a double take. What the hell was going on? “And by the way, did you know Daniel Reynolds and Randall Swathers?”

  His smile had now disappeared entirely. “Yes. They were associates of mine.”

  “Any idea what happened to them?”

  “A couple of unfortunate events.”

  “Right. Someone murdered them. Any chance Peter Kingston or Gary Previn wanted them out of the way?”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Haviland’s forehead. “I see a customer I need to meet with.” He jumped up.

  “Don’t you want to give me your sales snow job?”

  “I don’t have time now.”

  “Don’t I receive a raffle ticket?”

  “No. Complete this form and turn it in for the drawing.”

  He dropped a sheet of paper on the table and shot away like a deer being chased by a hunter.

  I filled out the form with my name, address, phone number and age. Then I answered several questions including one asking where I’d like to live: mountains, ocean, desert. Funny, it didn’t include jail as an alternative. Then I wandered back to the woman sitting at the other table.

  “I have my raffle entry. How do I win?”

  She gave me her tired smile again. “Drop it in the box over there.” She pointed. “The drawing will take place at the end of the show. You have to be here to win. We’ll announce the winning name.”

  “Do you know anything about being able to purchase founder’s lots for two hundred thousand dollars?”

  She looked at me quizzically. “I don’t understand.”

  “I heard that old coots like me could plop down two hundred thousand dollars and be assured of a garden spot in your retirement community.”

  “I’m not aware of anything like that. You’ll have to speak with one of the sales people.”

  “No thanks. I’ve already had that questionable pleasure.”

  I folded the sheet of paper and dropped it in the shiny silver box. Now set to win a cruise, I scanned the room. My attention ag
ain focused on all the colorful balloons lining the wall. I guessed the holiday atmosphere would take peoples’ minds off of being fleeced. The balloons gave me an idea. I could surprise Jennifer by decorating her room with balloons. I wandered over to a corner where I found a box of balloons not yet inflated.

  I approached a woman sitting at a table nearby.

  “Okay if I take some of the balloons?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Help yourself.”

  And I did. I filled up a pocket with a handful. Next time I spotted Jennifer leaving her room, I’d sneak in, blow up the balloons and tape them to her wall.

  I mingled with the flow of the crowd toward a bar serving beer, wine and soft drinks. I picked up a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and ambled into the main room. Crap. This place also was crammed full of old people. You’d think they had attracted every oldster in Boulder to this event. Previn and his gang seemed poised to extract hard-earned money from all these gullible seniors. Give up your two hundred thou and see it disappear into a scamming outfit that had squat to show for it. Made me want to puke like that lifeguard tossing his cookies at the Centennial Community Center.

  The lights flashed and people began to scramble for the folding chairs that rested in neat rows. Once everyone sat down, the audience must have been two hundred people. I did the math at two hundred thousand dollars a pop; this room represented forty million dollars to the eager sales staff.

  An old broad in a flowered hat squirmed in the chair next to me.

  “Are you planning to invest in this?” I asked her.

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. I’ve brought my checkbook. But don’t tell anyone. I’ve been made a special offer. They aren’t discussing it at all tonight. My salesman told me he’d secretly process my paperwork during intermission.”

  “Why the rush?”

  “He says tonight might be the last chance to hold property in my name at the low rate. I’m ready to make my reservation.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that. Did you know they might never even build on the property they’re describing?”

  Her hand came up to her mouth. “Dear me. How can that be? I’ve seen beautiful pictures of the facility.”

  “Artist’s renditions. Keep your checkbook in your purse and save your money for something legitimate.”

  Before I could scare her further, music began playing and a spotlight focused on the stage in front of us.