Seniors Sleuth

by Jennifer J. Chow

  “I don’t think my cat minds too much.” He might just have a chance, with only a cat for competition. She switched her long braid from her left shoulder to her right. Didn’t women play with their hair as a sign of sexual attraction? “Let me show you that file, Winston.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Kristy led Winston to the large sideboard he had seen upon entering Sweet Breeze, the tabletop a previous repository for the residents’ medications. Underneath the polished mahogany surface, two doors with handles were tethered by a combination lock. Despite the deft twist of her fingers, Winston spotted the code: 10-26-18. All those years spent watching pixels fly across computer screens had finally amounted to something.

  The inner lair of the cabinet contained two shelves. The top one held pills. From the other shelf, Kristy extracted a thick three-ring binder labeled “Joseph Sawyer” and gave it to Winston. “Enjoy.”

  A blaring noise sounded from outside. “That’s the meal delivery truck,” she said. “The driver can never find an open spot, so he double-parks and pounds on his horn.”

  Kristy scuttled outside, and Winston retraced his steps to the nook of a coffee room. He opened the tome on the vinyl card table and skimmed through its papers. They all pointed to a frail ninety-year-old man, compliant with all authorities until his natural death in bed.

  Case closed, I guess. Winston turned back to the cover page. Something nagged at him. What was it that Pete Russell had said? Everybody has their secrets? Winston’s eyes narrowed at the emergency contact listed on the first sheet. Name: Jacqueline Harrison. Relationship: Ex-wife. Why would a woman leave a saint?

  He entered the digits into his cell phone. Nobody picked up. Winston noticed another entry, in pen, annotated next to the typed information. It read, “Jacqueline’s Daughter: Emma Harrison.” Another phone number was listed. He bet that the straight, precise handwriting with a hint of flourish was Kristy’s.

  He tried the second number, and it immediately connected. A strong voice belted out at him. “Emma here.” Even the heavy wave of static didn’t soften it.

  “My name’s Winston Wong. I’m working with the Sweet Breeze Residential Care Facility on a case. I wanted to speak with Mrs. Jacqueline Harrison, but I couldn’t get ahold of her. Your name was listed next to hers in the file.”

  “Oh,” Emma said. “You must want to talk to Mom about Joe.” A sigh rolled down the line. “I’m not surprised you couldn’t contact her. When Dad’s out with his buddies playing golf, she doesn’t answer the phone. The best thing to do is visit her in person.”

  Winston looked at the 408 area code and glanced at his watch. A visit seemed feasible to fit in before the sun set. Besides, he wanted to get the real scoop on the so-called saint. “Okay. What’s the address?”

  Emma gave him a street and number in Gilroy. It would take a good forty minutes to get there.

  “I’ll give Mom’s neighbor, Tom, a call to let her know you’re coming.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. By the way, tell Kristy I said hello. She’s a great gal.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  They hung up, and Winston smiled to himself. He was right about the neat penmanship being Kristy’s. He saw the nurse herself hurrying through the lobby carrying foil-wrapped trays. “I’m off to talk to Jacqueline Harrison,” he said as she walked by. “I’ll leave the file on the countertop. And Emma says hi.”

  “Oh, Emma? Such a devoted daughter,” she said before she disappeared behind an ornate side door. Her head popped out again. “Have a fun visit and a good night, too. It’ll be lights out here after mealtime, but I hope to see you tomorrow morning.”

  “You can count on it.”

  Kristy disappeared again with a twirl of her braid. Winston stepped outside, whistling. Looking at his unticketed parked Accord beside the expired meter, he smiled. It must be my lucky day.

  Despite the traffic, Winston arrived in Gilroy faster than he’d anticipated. He pulled past the outlets, turned down some side streets, and found himself in front of Jacqueline Harrison’s home. It was a box-like ranch house, identical to the other models down the lane, except for its yellow daffodil exterior. Pumpkin orange trim added to the home’s brightness.

  He rang the doorbell, hearing a faint civilized chirrup from inside. Nothing happened. Only when he pounded hard against the front door did Jacqueline appear. She opened the door dressed in a slim navy sweater and gray corduroy pants. She lurched toward him and said, “Well, hello there. You must be Winston Wong. My girl Emma called my neighbor about your visit. Oh, there’s Tom now.” She waved at the house across from her.

  Winston turned to see a young muscled man, wearing only a white tank top, peer through his kitchen window. The neighbor nodded at them and raised something in his hand in greeting, which gave off a brief flash of silver. At this distance, Winston couldn’t tell if it was a metallic cup or a gun. He waved back slowly and pinned an innocent look on his face.

  “Come on in,” Jacqueline said. Her round green eyes welcomed him. Her silver hair was held back by two black barrettes, an endearing girlish gesture.

  As they entered her home, Jacqueline’s back straightened. Winston realized that she was taller than he’d first thought. With her hunched posture in the doorway, they had been the same height, but following her, Winston saw that she was a good three inches taller, landing her around the five-foot-nine mark.

  The inside of the house was painted various hues of yellow, from the sunlight burst in the kitchen to the dull vanilla in the living room. They settled in the second spot, on some floral-patterned couches.

  “Can I fix you a cup of tea?” she asked.

  His stomach murmured in appreciation. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” He was flattered that she played the hostess, even as he intruded on her privacy. She walked into the kitchen with sturdy steps, but her hands shook slightly when she carried the teapot in. Winston offered to pour and soon they each held a dainty porcelain cup of Earl Grey in their hands.

  “I noticed that you’re the emergency contact listed at Sweet Breeze,” he said. He blew on his steaming beverage.

  “That’s right.” Jacqueline nodded. “Joe didn’t have any other family nearby.”

  “Nobody else?” Winston took the silver teaspoon and twirled it in his cup, even though he hadn’t added sugar to the drink. “I’m under the impression that Joe was somewhat of a saint.”

  Jacqueline’s eyes twinkled, lighting up their emerald color. “He was very wonderful, but still a man. He had his quirks, like everybody else.”

  “I understand that you stayed close to him despite the divorce.”

  “Like I said, Joe was great. He was very sweet.”

  “So what made you two split up?” He wanted the gritty incriminating details. Joe must have been the type of man to up and leave a woman he’d vowed to take care of ’til death do they part.

  Jacqueline took a sip. “I asked him for a divorce.”

  “You did?” He had thought that Jacqueline would be the key to dismantling Joe’s aura of perfection, but now…

  “Honestly, it was because of the creature comforts.” Jacqueline gestured to the room around her. “I wanted a nice ranch house with fancy furniture. I like my trinkets.” She tapped her silver spoon against the delicate cup and saucer. “Joe couldn’t give me that.”

  “He didn’t make enough money?”

  Jacqueline shrugged. “He was a high school teacher, so he made an adequate amount. I don’t need to live like a princess after all. The problem was he didn’t ever spend the money, and I was still a student pursuing my own teaching credential.”

  “You left because he didn’t give you enough spending money?”

  Jacqueline blushed. “That was just part of it. The twenty years difference in our age played a role, too. I think I respected Joe a lot and idolized him, barreling headfirst into the marriage, but it never felt like an equal relationship. I fell in love with a man closer to my own ag
e, had an affair with him, got pregnant with Emma, and here we are.”

  Winston’s head spun with the revelation. After all Joe had gone through, the man had stayed close friends with his ex? “You were the one to leave Joe,” he said again, trying to wrap his mind around the facts.

  “While pregnant with my lover’s child. To get together with the man I had an affair with,” Jacqueline said. “Yes, I was a cliché. I never claimed to be a saint myself.”

  She shook her head. “I should never have married Joe. I wasn’t the best match for him. Maybe he was meant to be a bachelor.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Joe lived the way he liked. I could never get him to change the spartan look of his apartment. He never spent any money, on himself or on me. He would teach with holes in his shirts and his socks, and he proposed with a dollar-store ring.”

  “Maybe he was saving up for something?”

  “He was saving for the sake of saving. I think it had to do with his childhood, growing up during the Depression. He didn’t trust the banks and used to put his money into his ‘lucky’ socks. He started squirreling away dimes and nickels into this extra large pair of socks as a child. Later on, he exchanged coins for bills. I saw him put neat folded piles of thousand dollar bills in there.”

  “That’s an interesting habit.” Winston finished his cup of tea. “Thank you so much for the pleasant company.”

  “It’s always nice to have someone over. And you tell that nurse Kristy hello for me.”

  He blinked. “Your daughter said the same thing. Kristy’s quite popular with your family, huh?”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “That nurse went out of her way to meet me in person just because I was the emergency contact for Joe. She even met Emma in her off-time, since it’s sometimes hard to get in touch with me. Kristy figured she should connect with both of us in person just in case.”

  Winston made his way out of the sunshine-painted house, mulling over Kristy’s kindness. On his drive back home, his mind ran over the entire conversation with Joe’s ex. He remembered Jacqueline’s description of Joe’s hoarding habits. Lucky socks, huh? What would the lifetime savings be worth of a ninety-year-old miser? If someone at Sweet Breeze had known about Joe’s cash stash, there would have been a motive to get rid of him. Maybe this was turning out to be a real murder case after all.

  CHAPTER 7

  Winston returned to Sweet Breeze early the next morning. The opulent home was silent. No jazz music played from the piano, no footsteps shuffled down the hall. He searched for Kristy in the common areas, the lobby and the break room, to no avail. He went upstairs to the administrator’s office and found the door wide open. Rob didn’t even hide the computer game that he was playing. Space music blasted from the computer’s speakers.

  Rob glanced up. “Oh, it’s you. Hold on a sec.” He gave his mouse a couple of hard clicks. “There that should hold down the fort for a bit. Are you all done with the investigation?”

  “No. In fact, I wanted to speak to some of the residents again.”

  “Ooh, tough luck,” Rob said. “They’re out for their monthly salon field trip. They walk over next door to get their hair trimmed at Hair Solutions. They’ll probably be back in half an hour or so.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait until they return.”

  “Sure,” Rob said. “I think you’ll be more comfortable downstairs in the cushy lobby, though.” He looked ready to get his gaming groove back on.

  “No doubt about it.” Winston saw Rob’s head swivel back to the computer screen for more Space Domination even before he’d finished speaking.

  Winston traveled down the cherry staircase. Since all the residents were out, he figured he could search their rooms to his heart’s content. He didn’t know how legal it was to sneak around, but they would never even know. Thankfully, none of the doors had locks. First, he scrutinized all the name cards outside each room, and he entered the only space without a name attached to it. He figured the blank one had been Joseph Sawyer’s last place of residence.

  Joe’s previous room mirrored Pete Russell’s all-one-color decor, except that it was dressed in green. The faint musk of Old Spice stunk up the place. Joe’s space, like Pete’s, also contained spindly sitting chairs and an antique dresser. A dark emerald color bathed the walls, the floor-length heavy curtains, and the furniture’s upholstery. The one glaring difference between the two rooms was the large Victorian bed occupying a center location. Its solid carved headboard presented pictures of flowering vines. The dark bedspread, in a deep blue and green plaid pattern, tried and failed to offset the feminine wooden decoration. The comforter lay with one corner flipped up, so Winston pulled it down and smoothed it out. With the tug, a small batch of tangled white hairs flew down to the floor. It looked like a cat’s hairball. Winston decided against touching it. He saw the glimmer of white tufts in the sunlight and kicked the entire mess under the bed.

  He headed over to the ancient vanity and checked the drawers beneath the gleaming mirror. The first few were empty, but the corner of the bottom one held a scrap of paper reading, “Boy.” He wedged it out and slid the drawer open, revealing the contents inside: a ballpoint pen, several California postcards, and a pack of playing cards. He searched all around the room but couldn’t find clothes of any kind. No socks for sure.

  He left Joe’s room and made searches of all the other residents’ dwellings. He discovered a multitude of scarves in Anastasia’s room amongst hordes of jewelry. In Eve’s, he uncovered a dizzying array of oversized muumuus. One paisley monstrosity was flipped inside out, showing off a large inner pocket. In Jazzman’s room, framed photos of him at the piano with the other residents hung on the walls. Vinyl discs covered the floor in mountainous heaps. In fact, they almost obscured an old coffee cup with the initial “J” and an old Coke bottle. He hoped the janitor would discover the trash soon, because he wasn’t about to touch those grimy remains.

  When he stopped into Pete’s room, though, he found the man himself.

  “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

  Caught off guard, Winston revealed the truth. “I’m looking for Joe’s ‘lucky socks.’”

  Pete laughed, a deep growl in his throat. “I’ll say. The man sure was lucky. He got veteran status without any real work.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sure he didn’t get any nightmares over at his military desk job.” Pete motioned over to his bureau. “Enough chit chat. Time for solitaire. Grab those cards in there before you show yourself out.”

  As Winston pulled the top drawer open and took out the deck, he noticed an American flag lying inside. “You fold Old Glory the proper way, Mr. Russell. It’s shaped in a neat triangular package.”

  Pete’s eyes flicked over, and he gestured for the cards. “Guess you do have some appreciation for military details. I ran that flag up every morning and wrestled it down every night when I had my own home. I installed the pole myself in front of the house.”

  “You’re very devoted to our country, Mr. Russell.”

  “You better believe it.”

  “Kristy mentioned you served in the Vietnam War.”

  He grunted.

  “A lot of our vets didn’t get the honor they deserved…”

  Pete opened the deck and pulled the cards out in slow motion. “I don’t know. Things don’t always turn out the way you expect.”

  “That’s the way life works.”

  “Don’t you tell me about life—or death!” Pete flung a slew of cards at his head. Winston dodged, narrowly preventing injury by a thousand cuts. “I witnessed enough of both during the war. I wanted to do right when stationed in Cambodia. We thought we were helping folks out there, but…”

  The tragic Khmer Rouge. “Mr. Russell. You did the best you could. You were just following orders, serving our great nation.” Winston picked up the scattered cards, one by one. “Life sometimes deals a messy hand, but you can start fres
h and play again.” He handed the tidy stack to Pete.

  “You know what? You’re a real walking fortune cookie, Winston.” He started to shuffle, then paused. “But that’s all right. How about a game of Go Fish?”

  Winston heard the front door of the facility open. “I’ll take a rain check on that, Pete. I have to do some real fishing now.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Winston sped out into the lobby and seated himself in a beige microsuede armchair just as the residents entered Sweet Breeze.

  Kristy flashed a smile at him. “It’s good to see you again. How do you like their new looks?” The residents seemed pretty much the same. Even Kristy wore her signature braid, except her scrubs had changed from white to a light blue.

  Everybody filed past him, except for Anastasia, who stopped to twirl before him. “It’s a shame that hunky police officer wasn’t at the salon today. He usually goes there around the same time. Not much of a talker, though. He just smiles at Kristy and looks at us with his wide blue eyes. You’ll have to be my first admirer, Winston.” She spun and gauzy brown wrappings swirled around her, making her appear much like a human mushroom. Her arm, covered by a twinkling bracelet, sparkled during the dance. She waited for his assessment, but he didn’t know what to say about her unchanged hairstyle. He decided to compliment her on the glittering arm jewelry instead.

  “Oh, this.” She twisted it to catch the light. “A gift from Rob. Straight from India.” She admired her bracelet some more. “I’ll have you know, my charms work on any man around here.” She sashayed away from him.

  After Kristy had settled everyone else in their rooms, she reappeared before Winston. “How’s the investigation going, Detective?” Her eyes held a glimmer of teasing. “Tell me about your visit with Jacqueline.”

  “It went really well. She even offered me English tea in a dainty cup.” He paused. “Did you know their whole family adores you? They think it’s really sweet the way you visited them to connect.”