Seniors Sleuth

by Jennifer J. Chow

  When Winston stepped away from the grave, he saw the residents of Sweet Breeze lined up, each holding a memento in their hand. He wondered when they’d gotten the time to collude and scrape up an item for Joe’s funeral. Maybe they’d planned it long ago, to honor their fellow friend together.

  Eve advanced to the hole and placed a framed photograph on the dirt. The silver outline was tarnished and he could barely make out a face. Not a striking image of Joe. Winston imagined it must’ve been Eve’s real dead husband, Teddy.

  Anastasia moved toward the grave, and her voluminous black skirts dragged along the ground. He was almost afraid that she’d fall in due to the sheer weight of her fabric. From the folds of the enormous dress, she pulled forth matching cuff links (of sparkling cubic zirconia) and placed them on his coffin. She had probably used her costume jewelry fund to buy them.

  Jazzman shuffled to the edge of the hole, his polished leather shoes glinting in the sun. He held a vinyl disc in his hand, one from his beloved collection from Sweet Breeze. He placed it on the growing pile of dirt and made a flourish with his top hat in a gesture of respect.

  Pete acted as the tail of the troop. He stood ramrod straight before the grave. He wore his army fatigues under a faded black suit jacket for the occasion. From the pocket of his outer coat, he pulled out an American flag, still folded in the neat way Winston had seen from his room. Pete bent over and smoothed it down on top of the other items. He stood back up and gave a quick salute to his fellow veteran. Winston’s hand almost rose up to his forehead, too, in response to the respectful gesture.

  CHAPTER 22

  The solemn party all headed back to Sweet Breeze. Winston could hear a phone ringing as they entered the main room. The residents slumped onto the microsuede furniture, except for Jazzman who sat at the piano bench, his hands arched above the delicate keys without playing a single note.

  Kristy ignored the shrill telephone and went first to check on Harold Meekings. She reappeared with a young woman about thirty years old, probably his granddaughter, who seemed relieved to be off-duty now. The woman bid Kristy goodbye and went out the front door.

  The phone was still ringing off the hook. Kristy sighed and said, “I guess I should take care of that caller.” She marched upstairs.

  Ten minutes later, she came back down with a pale face. A stack of cardboard boxes shook in her trembling hands. “Listen up, everybody. I just got off the phone with management, and I have an announcement to make. Sweet Breeze is closing its doors.” Anastasia gasped and appeared about to swoon, so Winston steadied her. The other residents sat stone-faced, except for Eve whose eyes wandered around the room in confusion. “I need to move everybody out by tonight. The owner thinks his reputation is sunk and is bailing out. He believes nobody will want their elderly relatives living in a home where someone’s been murdered. He’ll be selling the house, fully furnished, as soon as possible.”

  “Is that even legal?” Winston asked.

  “No.” Kristy scowled. “I argued with the owner about it. But he said he would send people to ‘help us’ vacate if I didn’t comply.” Winston bet the owner knew some shady Chinese Triad-type characters that could muscle the seniors out of Sweet Breeze.

  Kristy passed out the packing supplies to each resident. “Everyone needs to pack up their items.” She bent close to Eve. “Do you understand? You need to gather your stuff and put it in this box.” The old woman made eye contact with Kristy and nodded.

  “I’m making arrangements for all of you for a new place of residence. I’ll do the best I can for you, and I’ll handle all the transportation issues.”

  The residents scattered to their rooms, and Kristy started going back upstairs. Winston followed her and placed an arm around her shoulder. “Want some help?”

  “No, you wouldn’t even know where to begin.” She sighed and moved his arm away. “Just go help the others pack.”

  * * *

  Winston made his way downstairs, nervous about Kristy’s slight brush-off. Of course, she’s busy with so many things, but can’t she lean on me for once? After all, doesn’t she realize I just solved an important case? I must have some skills.

  Eve wandered by him. “Where are you, Teddy?” She kept walking around in circles, moaning. “I’ve put your stuff in the box like you asked me to.”

  Winston stopped the old woman before she made herself dizzy. He took her hands in a gentle hold. “Eve, did you pack all your things?”

  “But where’s Teddy? He needs to come with me, and I can’t find him.”

  Winston shook his head. “I’m sorry, but Joe—I mean Teddy—died. He won’t be coming with you.”

  The woman’s shoulders shook, and the items in her box clattered around. A ceramic mug jostled against some keys. “What do you mean he’s dead? How did Teddy pass away?”

  “Don’t you remember the funeral?”

  Her brow furrowed. “The brown coffin?”

  “That’s right. We buried Teddy today.”

  She wiped the sleeve of her oversized muumuu against her eyes. He could see the wetness of her tears seeping into the thin fabric. “I need to get my stuff then. I can’t keep living here.”

  She took a step forward, then one step back. She squinted at Winston’s face. “Who are you again? You’re not the nice man that lives upstairs with us, are you?”

  “Um, no.”

  “We rented a room to this young man. I want to tell him that I’m moving out. Where is he?”

  Winston shuffled his feet. “Do you mean Rob?”

  “Rob.” She paused. “That sounds about right. Where’s Rob?”

  “The police arrested him.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “For killing Joe.”

  “Who?”

  “That is, Teddy.”

  “What?” Eve started wailing. Winston looked around for help as her screams escalated.

  He saw Kristy run down the stairs. “What’s wrong, Eve?” She held the old woman close to her chest, rocking her and making shushing noises. She threw a killer glare at Winston and said, “Some help you are.”

  He backed away. He needed to find someone else to assist and fast.

  CHAPTER 23

  Winston looked for Anastasia in her room. Sweet Anastasia. Surely, she would give him no problems. Her floor was covered in a rainbow of see-through material, her discarded gauzy coverings. She wrapped him up in the folds of her flowing dress. “Winston, my hero. I’m so glad you uncovered Joe’s killer. Poison through the dialysis bags, right?”

  “Word sure spreads quickly around here.”

  Anastasia fluttered one bejeweled hand against her heart. “I wanted to double-check the facts. You were so thorough in your investigation, what with fingerprinting everyone. Too bad you didn’t get a copy of Rob’s prints then.”

  “Yeah. I remember you were very nervous during that session, Anastasia. I had to redo yours.”

  Anastasia’s mood shifted. She hung her head, her pointed chin half-covered by fabric. “Actually, I was scared I was to blame for Joe’s death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The day Joe died, I was in his room. Right after Kristy left.” So that’s how Anastasia had really known when Joe had started coughing. She’d been awake the whole time. “I was furious at him. He hadn’t paid enough attention to me on my special day. He even held that delirious Eve’s hand instead of mine when they were singing ‘Happy birthday’ to me.”

  “So you went to confront him?”

  “No, I wanted to get a quick birthday hug, that’s all. I thought he would have stayed awake after Kristy did the dialysis, but the man was asleep, so I positioned his arms around me. He didn’t wake up, but he started squirming. I didn’t mean any harm, though I might have snagged his tube with my bracelets.”

  “Did it pull out?”

  “I didn’t think so at the time, but I didn’t want to bother Kristy and have her check. It would have made me look like a fool, begging
for a birthday hug. But I did call Kristy to come when I heard him coughing later on. Anyway, the dialysis bags must not have been disturbed since the poison was in them. They must have been in place for the toxin to enter his system.”

  “You should have told me this earlier, Anastasia, so that I could have all my facts straight.”

  “It worked out in the end without my saying anything, though.”

  He would forgive her this time. She hadn’t meant any harm by withholding information. Winston started picking up sheer fabrics off the floor for her to pack.

  Anastasia clapped her hands. “What a dear. Do you see my pearl wrap?” How could he even begin to search the fabric layers scattered around her bedroom?

  “It’s a white gauzy thing that I wrap around my shoulders when I get cold,” Anastasia said.

  Winston checked the pile in his hands.

  “It’s not in there,” she said. “I already checked those. That’s why they’re on the floor. Oh well, never mind.”

  She took a wrap off the top of the pile, and something dropped out. Winston grabbed the white envelope with a ripped corner. “What’s this, Anastasia?”

  “Nothing. Give it back to me.”

  “This is addressed to Joe Sawyer.” He looked closer at the torn edge. “I can’t make out the return name, something Davies Law Offices.”

  She tried to grab at the letter with her birdlike fingers, but he dodged her efforts. “This is evidence, Anastasia. It could help us lock Rob away for even longer.”

  He pulled out a piece of paper from the ripped envelope. A letter on heavy parchment contained the header, “Boyle & Davies Law Offices.” He skimmed over the legalese, deciphering it. “A cease and desist order from a lawyer named Tim Boyle. For Joe Sawyer to stop harassing Jacqueline Harrison?”

  Anastasia wrung her hands, wrinkling the soft fabric she was holding. “Joe didn’t have a mean bone in his body, so why would his ex-wife ask to stop communicating with him? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know, Anastasia, but I’ll need to keep this. Where did you find it?”

  “It was in Joe’s drawer.” Winston then remembered the scrap of paper with the word “Boy” on it, presumably part of “Boyle & Davies Law Offices” stuck in its corner when he went snooping around Joe’s room.

  “How come you didn’t tell me this before?”

  “I didn’t want to mar Joe’s image with this absurd legal document.”

  “I see. You wanted to protect Joe’s honor,” he said.

  “Thank you for understanding, Winston.” She fixed her creased wrap and folded it into a tight square. “Now what was all that commotion I heard outside?”

  Winston summarized how he’d alarmed Eve by blurting out the truth about Joe/Teddy dying.

  “Pshaw. She’s wired all wrong. Don’t mind her bawling.” She frowned at a wrinkle in the thin fabric she held and redid the folding. “Eve’s crazy. Did you see what she brought to Joe’s funeral?”

  “A picture of her dead husband?” The image that hadn’t matched Joe.

  Anastasia snorted. “No, it was the original paper that gets stuck to a photo frame, the generic sample that says 5x7 on it.”

  “Well, she does have dementia.”

  “I know. She’ll probably get to stay with her family because of her diagnosis, too. Although I don’t know how they’ll survive. Her wannabe model granddaughter can’t even make enough money to support herself.”

  Anastasia plopped onto her bed. “On the other hand, poor me. Kristy will try her best, but I’ll probably be stuck in a nursing home.” She flung one arm across her eyes.

  “It won’t be so bad, Anastasia. I’ll come and visit you.”

  She removed her arm. “You promise?”

  “For sure.”

  “Okay then.” She got off the bed and smoothed down the sheets.

  Women, Winston thought. So dramatic. First Eve melting down, then Kristy lashing out at him, and now Anastasia flipping her moods like pancakes. It was time to find the men, the sane folks in the home. He backed out of her door as she started organizing her jewelry for packing.

  CHAPTER 24

  Winston knocked on Jazzman’s door. The elegant gentleman’s eyes lit up, and he gave Winston a warm congratulation for solving the case. Finally, a man after Winston’s own heart. Someone who displayed simple appreciation for his skills.

  Jazzman started placing bubble wrap around a vinyl disc. “Give me a piece of tape, would you?”

  Winston pulled off a large piece of packing tape for him and watched Jazzman wrap the disc with tenderness. Jazzman patted the record once before he looked up at Winston. “I’m curious. What was the smoking gun that caught Rob?”

  “It was a vial of poison the police discovered in his personal cooler.”

  “Really? What did it look like?” Winston described the container to Jazzman.

  “That’s odd,” he said. “I didn’t see that there when I looked at his stash last.”

  “When was that?”

  “Well, on the day of Joe’s death, I snuck into Rob’s office to grab some caffeine. Remember, it was a big performance, it being Anastasia’s birthday and all. Trust me, you don’t want to disappoint that woman.”

  “But didn’t you have caffeine from Joe’s coffee?”

  “Sure, but it doesn’t hurt to double up.”

  “How did you get in without Rob knowing you were there?”

  “Aw, Rob never comes in early. I just got there before he went into the office. I grabbed a bottle and hid it in my room.” Winston recalled the used Coke bottle sitting next to the initialed coffee cup during his first inspection of Jazzman’s room.

  “Anyway, excellent work, Winston. I’m glad you caught him.” Jazzman gave him a whack on the back. He placed his padded music treasure into his box and stared out into space. “It’s nice that I can take my things with me to the new place, but I’m sure gonna miss the folks here. Plus, I won’t be able to tickle those ivories anymore.” He nodded his head toward the lobby.

  “That’s a shame. I enjoyed your playing. I know everybody will miss you, including me.”

  “Don’t be a stranger then, Winston. Just ask Kristy where you can find me.”

  * * *

  Since he was making the rounds, Winston stuck his head into Pete’s room to check on his packing. “How’s it going in there?”

  The veteran grunted. “Don’t have much stuff, and I’m used to moving around.”

  “Thanks for going to the funeral, Pete. I know you don’t like walking around in your prostheses.”

  “I’ll do it for an important occasion. I can’t believe they let him go to the funeral.”

  “Who?”

  “Mike Harrison.” Jacqueline’s husband.

  “Well, he is sort of connected to Joe by marriage.”

  “Yeah, but he was the one who had ticked Joe off over the phone.”

  “When was this?”

  Pete cleared his throat. “I haven’t been honest with you. The day Joe died we had an argument.” That’s right. Jazzman had already told Winston this tidbit of news, but Winston wasn’t about to reveal that to Pete.

  “Everyone else was getting ready for the museum trip,” Pete said, “and Joe had come in to see me and convince me to go when he got the call. He put his cell on speakerphone, and I remember the angry voice wheezing down the line.” It sure sounded like the distinguished gentleman with breathing problems from the funeral. “Joe took pure abuse from him. Afterwards, I told Joe to man up, but he said that he’d been a soldier, too, and knew how to handle things. That’s when I blew up.”

  So that’s how the fight had started. “It’s odd that Mike’s still angry. Joe and Jacqueline’s marriage dissolved long ago. I mean, Jacqueline did pick Mike after all.”

  “People don’t have the proper perspective—they get caught up in trivial things—unless they’ve been in a war.”

  “Which reminds me. I thought that was a nice gestur
e at the funeral, Pete, honoring Joe with the flag.”

  For a moment, Pete’s eyes seemed to search his bureau for the spot where his flag had been, but then they flashed back onto Winston. “I respect my country, and so did Joe. Not like some other people around here.”

  Pete paused in his packing and tapped at his prosthetic leg. “I sure didn’t lose my limbs for schmucks like Rob Turner.”

  Winston nodded. “It was awful what he did to Joe.”

  “I knew he was trouble the moment I saw that bootlegged gizmo in his hand.”

  “Some sort of device?”

  “Right. One of those initialed doohickeys kids like to play on nowadays. ES. GF.”

  Maybe the DS. Rob was probably sucked into Mario Kart, pitting his cars against others online. Winston knew plenty about that from firsthand experience.

  “For goodness’ sake. The man was supposed to be making his rounds during the night, checking to make sure we were safe, not playing games.”

  Winston scratched his chin. “Did you say that it was bootlegged? How could you tell?”

  “Definitely a knock-off. It didn’t even have English on the plastic frame, just funky swirls. Some kind of foreign language. I would have reported the man, but then he got arrested for murder. Even better.” Pete smiled wide, the first grin Winston had ever seen on the man’s face. “Now get out of here and let me finish packing.”

  Winston moved out of Pete’s room and heard a resounding grunt from one of the doorways. He followed the sound to Harold Meekings’s space. The noise sounded like a mutilated bullfrog call. Winston peeked in and saw Harold sitting up in bed. For once, Winston found it fortunate that his own dad had died of a massive heart attack, a quick and easy way to go. Harold, wasting away before Winston’s very eyes, creeped him out.