Warren’s face softened. He patted both his shoulders, and this time Tinkerbell leapt up, setting a paw on each side of his hips. “She’s sweet as my Goldie.”
The three woman stood, silent. Remarkably, even the kids held their tongues. Tinkerbell licked the man’s elaborate mustache clean, and if Ruby wasn’t mistaken, he chuckled. Ruby’s shoulders relaxed.
“All right,” he said. “I guess they can stay. The girls can bunk in André’s room. Your brother can share the TV room with the boys.”
“Thanks so much, Warren,” Claudine said. “Maybe you can put these kids to work. Help you out with the chores.”
“Not a bad idea.” Warren walked back to the Villa Saint Nicholas’s entrance, Tinkerbell trotting behind him. “I just might, at that.”
Ruby pulled Claudine back. “What’s the deal? Level with me.”
“What?”
“He’s no regular retirement home manager. Not with that many prison tats.”
Claudine turned away, then back to Ruby. “Used to be a prison warden, actually.”
“Why isn’t he still working in a jail, then? It has to pay better than this.” She took in the row of dented trash cans, the barren rose bushes.
“He got in trouble with state corrections for passing what he thought were love letters to inmates. He’s more of a romantic than he lets on. Unfortunately, one of the letters included a detailed map of the prison’s HVAC system. You heard about the escape of those embezzlers five years or so ago?”
The news had been full of it at the time. The men had been locked up for draining the hedge fund accounts of Carsonville’s largest bank. Two of the embezzlers were caught three states away, and the other was never found.
“Are you coming?” Deborah asked from the Villa’s front door.
“In a minute,” Ruby yelled ahead. Then, more quietly, “All the more reason this is no normal retirement home. Spit it out.”
Claudine let out a long breath. “Everyone in the Villa is bent. To the last.”
Ruby’s eyes widened. It hardly seemed possible. An entire retirement home for the lawfully challenged. She pictured flatware disappearing, locks picked, and, of course, a bouquet of illegal cable connections. They might hot wire cars to go bowling. Gin rummy would enter a whole new dimension here. She smiled. Then reason returned.
“We can’t let the kids live with a bunch of criminals.”
“What other option do we have? Besides, the residents take a vow to go straight once they move in. It’s too risky, otherwise. We could lose the whole place if anyone found out.”
“We?” Ruby asked, lowering her voice. She must have caught Claudine off guard. Her eyes darted to the Villa, then the garage, then back to Ruby.
“My father lives here.”
“Are you coming?” Deborah yelled once again from the Villa’s doorway. Behind her, the redhead, leaning on a cane, admonished Tinkerbell to sit.
“We’re coming right now. Just grabbing the sleeping bags from Claudine’s car.” Ruby nodded at Claudine. “Come on. But I want to hear about everything.”
“I guess it’s only fair.”
Ruby grabbed the rolled-up bearskin rug, and Claudine pulled the sleeping bags from the back seat. Arms full, they made their way inside the Villa. Claudine bumped the automatic door opener with her elbow as the men in wheelchairs continued to look on. “Hey, Deanie,” one of them said. The other, watching the women, expertly turned the deck of cards in his hand in an automatic reflex. Now it was all starting to make sense, Ruby thought.
“Dad home yet?” Claudine asked the men.
“Yep,” the man with the cards replied. “Those the Rizzio brats?”
“You’ll be meeting them in a minute,” Claudine said. Then, to Ruby, “Let’s take this gear upstairs.”
Complaining the whole way, the rickety elevator inched to the second floor. Its doors opened to a hall carpeted in lumpy gray. A turbaned man stepped out from a few doors up.
“Darling Deanie,” he said.
A Middle Eastern crook? Ruby wondered. He looked tan enough, but too young for a retirement home.
“What’s your scam now?” Claudine said.
“Just playing around,” the swami said. “I found some old sheets in the laundry room. I can’t watch Practical Hospital with Grady all day, you know.”
“He loved seeing you in the telenovela episodes, didn’t he?”
“Adored them, even if he didn’t understand a word. I’m afraid you’ll never match my esteem in his eyes,” the swami said, adding a vaguely Saudi accent.
“Ruby, I’d like you to meet my brother, André.”
Ruby looked at Claudine. What was his gig?
“Pleased to meet you.” The man’s smile showed perfectly white teeth.
Charisma. Genuine charisma. She felt her heart warm in spite of herself. André yanked off his turban to reveal ruffled hair. The man on the street wouldn’t be able to tell it was a dye job, but Ruby knew better and would suggest he try the neutral rather than cool tones next time.
“And now you’re booting me from my room,” he said.
“Middle Eastern sheikhs are known for camping in the desert.”
“The TV room is curiously Saharan, but I’m certain it’s never seen nobility.”
“Then you’ll just have to change that,” Claudine said. “We’ll drop off these things, then I’m taking Ruby and the kids to the cafeteria. I think it’d be best if we introduce them.”
“They don’t know about us? I mean, the situation?” André asked.
“No,” Claudine said. “And it had better stay that way.”
Ruby studied the exchange. She’d never call Claudine an emoter, but she gained layers of depth in Ruby’s eyes as she watched her joke with her brother. Funny, somehow she’d assumed Claudine had arrived in the world unfettered by family. “Where’s your dad?”
“Downstairs,” the young man answered.
Claudine turned toward the elevator. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
The cafeteria was as drab as the rest of the Villa she’d seen—at least, its bones were. But every chair and every table were different. A large television and shelf of DVDs anchored one end. A fireplace and entrance to what Ruby assumed was the kitchen were at the other end, closer to the Villa’s central entrance.
“I thought you said the boys would be sleeping in the TV room? Is this it?” Ruby asked.
“No, the TV room is across the hall. Grady is very particular about his programs, though, so some of the residents prefer to watch in here.”
“Are you talking about me?” a stooped man, possibly the oldest man Ruby had ever seen, said from his chair. Behind him, three more of the Villa’s residents stood. “These Wanda’s kids?”
“I thought you couldn’t hear well,” Claudine said.
“New hearing aid.”
“Then you can turn that blasted television down now and then,” the redhead said. Her voice sweetened, and she waved toward the kids. “I’m Gilda. Are you poor orphans coming to live with us?”
Joanie’s eyes widened. She backed up and grabbed Hugo’s hand.
“We’ll be temporarily residing among you,” he said. In his nervousness, he’d lapsed into stiff talk.
“You look just like your pa,” a man in a wheelchair said.
“Kids—and Deborah and Ruby—this is my father, Hank,” Claudine said. She stooped to whisper something to him, and her father touched his chest and nodded.
“Which husband was that? I recall Wanda had a few,” Gilda said. Then, to Ruby, “By the way, I love your color.”
“It’s eight golden with a touch of neutral, but I am—or was, rather—a natural redhead,” Ruby said.
“Me, henna,” Gilda said. She extended a shapely leg from a slit in her ankle-length gown. “A cup to a gallon of water, every two weeks.”
The henna would be great for protecting her hair shafts, but if she ever wanted a decent dye job, she’d have to wear it off. I
t would be an eight week wait, minimum, Ruby thought.
“The older one’s dad was the forger, am I right?” Claudine’s father said.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” Hugo said. The kids were completely absorbed in the conversation. Lucy’s thumb lifted to her mouth.
“Honey,” Claudine’s father said. Claudine kissed him on the head.
“How are you feeling?” Claudine asked him, her voice gentle.
“Not bad, considering.” The man turned to Ruby and to Deborah, who’d emerged from the TV room across the hall wiping her hands.
“Do you need anything?” Claudine asked her father.
“I’m all fixed up. Dr. Parisot’s coming by later.” Then, to Ruby and Deborah, “As Deanie said, I’m Henri Dupin. French, you know. You can call me Hank.”
“Oh, Dad, we haven’t been French for eighty years,” Claudine said.
“Mais oui. We’re French, all right,” the old man insisted. “We only do it French. French perfume, French bread, French fries, you name it.”
Claudine was still smiling, and it wasn’t condescending, either. Ruby looked at her, eyebrows raised. Whatever it was that he did, criminal work was the family way.
“I love it here,” Deborah said. “I’ve already met the most fascinating people. Grady knows simply everything about soap operas.”
Ruby shot a glance at Claudine again, whose single raised eyebrow hinted that Grady might have other skills, but she wasn’t talking.
“And there are these darling men, Bobby and Father Vinny,” Deborah continued.
Strangely, Father Vincent wore a floor-length floral skirt with his black shirt and collar. In fact, Ruby was certain she’d used the same fabric for her bathroom curtains. Bobby was the card-shuffling man from outside. A few other residents had gathered. Claudine introduced them, but Ruby immediately forgot their names. Their professions, had she been told, she would have remembered.
Tinkerbell was glued to the manager’s side, and he palmed her what looked like a scrap of ham. The manager—heck, all the men—watched Deborah like she had the fairy wand to produce beer. The kids stood, mouths agape in rapt fascination.
“Welcome, children,” Claudine’s father said. “We hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I think you all are in for a bit of a shake-up,” Ruby said.
The dog belched.
13
Ruby glanced at her watch. An hour until the hearing. She unclamped the curling iron.
“You’re not done yet,” Gilda said. “Finish me. This weather makes my hair all flyaway.”
“I’ve got just a minute before I have to leave for the county building.” Gilda was right, though. Humidity mounted in the air. Summer was trying one last stand, but all its heat had condensed into black clouds that had darkened the afternoon enough that Ruby clicked on the overhead light. She pulled her silk shirt from her damp chest.
Gilda pouted in the mirror Ruby had set up in the retirement home’s dinner room. “That curl by my ear isn’t long enough. It needs to be longer. Look at the photo. What do you think, Hank?”
Claudine’s father looked up from the book in his lap. The book was some kind of exhibition catalog for jewelry—at least, a diamond- and ruby-studded tiara was on its cover. His perusal seemed half-hearted. Really, she was surprised he was downstairs instead of taking one of his many daily naps.
“Looks beautiful, hon,” he said. “You’re a real magician, Ruby.”
Ruby grabbed a comb and skimmed it over Gilda’s hennaed head. Where were the kids, anyway? During the week, Deborah had enrolled them in school. Thanks to resident Villa expertise, it was easy to forge birth certificates. Deborah insisted on buying them backpacks and school clothes. She’d told the school’s staff that the kids had just moved to Carsonville, and she was a cousin helping them get enrolled while their parents were at work.
But school should be out by now. Ruby lifted her head from the curling iron and found Scotty near the fireplace chatting with Eddie, who was hooked to his oxygen tank. They seemed to be focusing on something between them. A board game? The man moved three small shells. Shoot.
“Just a minute, Gilda.” Ruby dropped the comb and charged toward them. “You,” she said to the man. “What are you teaching this child?”
The man put up his hands in mock surrender. “What? It’s just a game.”
“Just fraud. Come on, Scotty. Pay him no attention.” She hadn’t had a moment’s rest since she’d arrived. Maybe when they’d moved in, the residents had to sign an oath that they’d leave their professions behind, but they still considered it sporting to practice. She’d be lucky if she had tires on her car when she left.
“Hmm.” Gilda lazily scratched between her breasts.
Ruby’s eyebrow went up. “Hand it over.”
“What?”
“Whatever you stole from my bag. Where’d you put it? Your bra?”
Gilda sniffed and pulled from her blouse one of Ruby’s best lipsticks, a Dior she’d boosted from Klingle’s.
“Thief,” Ruby muttered.
“Look who’s talking,” Gilda retorted.
“Sit back and shut up. I’m almost done with your hair, then I’ve got to leave.”
“Hi, Ruby. Hi, Gilda.” Deborah breezed into the dinner room.
“There’s our sunshine,” said Eddie from the fireplace. He’d put away the shells and now had a well-worn copy of True Crime in his lap. “The sunshine of Villa Saint Nicholas.”
When Deb hadn’t been at Ruby’s helping her work up a statement in support of selling the firehouse, she’d been at the retirement home with the kids. She and Lucy had sewn curtains for the TV room, both to give the boys some privacy and to cheer up the décor. She’d even started training the dog. Tinkerbell could roll over on command, especially if she got a belly rub mid-roll.
“You look very professional,” Ruby said.
Deborah smoothed a hand over her wool dress. “Thanks.”
“Listen, after the hearing we need to talk about what to do with the kids. I saw Lucy taking apart a lock yesterday, and Hugo’s been spending too much time in the garage with Father Vincent. They don’t need to pick up any bad habits.”
“I’ve been worried, too.” Deborah examined her feet. “I asked Louie again if we could take them home, just for a little while, but he needs his quiet.”
“The house is so big, though. Couldn’t he just shut himself up in the den?”
Deborah’s gaze stayed on her feet.
What Ruby thought about Louie wasn’t worth saying aloud. “Anyway. How are you feeling about tonight?”
“Nervous.”
“Honey, you’ll be great. We practiced, remember?” She unplugged the curling iron and turned to Gilda. “Your curls look fine.”
Thunder rumbled in the background.
* * *
“I’m still really nervous,” Deborah said. She’d given only one presentation in her life, and that was to sell Girl Scout cookies at a church potluck. These stakes were a lot higher.
“And wet.” Ruby shook rain from her Chihuahua-patterned umbrella. On their drive to the county building, the sky hung leaden until the moment they reached the parking lot. Then it burst like an over-filled water balloon.
“Where should we sit?” Deborah asked.
The county commissioners’ hearing room was laid out like a small baseball diamond, with the commissioners’ dais at home plate, and chairs for the audience in the outfield. A desk for a recorder and another for witnesses were stationed where batting cages would be.
“Close to the front. Not many people here,” Ruby said. A few men, street people, maybe, lingered toward the back, perhaps waiting for free coffee to come out. Four people in suits sat closer to the front. One snapped open a briefcase.
Deborah nudged Ruby. “Look. Who’s that?”
“Whoever they are, they have money. And are getting paid by someone with even more of it.” She squinted. “Public relations. That’s my guess. Or l
awyers.”
Lawyers. She was no match for lawyers. Ruby handed her a water bottle, and she took a long draw.
They settled a few rows behind the suited team. Ruby pulled out her leopard-print cheaters and glanced at the photocopied agenda on her seat. “Looks like we’re on about halfway through the meeting, and another witness is right after us.” She looked at Deborah, her eyes curiously magnified behind the lenses. “Must be them.” She nodded toward the suits. “For the developer who wants the place. Then the vote.”
“The vote,” Deborah repeated. Her stomach churned with nerves. Why had Ruby and Claudine decided she should be the one to read the testimony? Commissioner Rossum might listen more closely, they’d said, but she doubted it. They told her it would be easy. Read the statement, smile. That’s all.
Deborah’s phone chattered with birdsong. Louie? Maybe he’d texted to wish her well. He knew this was an important day. Too bad he couldn’t make it, but the Carsonville Warblers Association was meeting. She glanced at the screen, and her face fell. Ruby raised an eyebrow.
“Ned Rossum sent me a text,” Deborah said.
“Rossum the Possum. Well, what does it say?”
“Nice2CU cutie.”
“Weenie the size of a gherkin pickle, you can count on it,” Ruby said.
Deborah smiled wanly toward the dais, then turned toward the door, mostly to avoid any further eye contact. Claudine arrived, close behind a group of other people. Somehow, she looked like she’d walked in from an old movie. She seemed to be drawn in cream and gray, like the photos in Grandpa Granzer’s album, always watching, always thinking. She nodded toward Ruby and Deborah, then settled on the other side of the audience. As they’d agreed, she’d remain anonymous.
“Alert at eleven o’clock,” Ruby whispered.
Commissioner Rossum was bearing down on them. “Deborah.” He put a hand on her shoulder.
She was tempted to peel his hand off, but she knew she had to make nice—at least until the hearing was over. “Hi, Commissioner. This is my first public meeting. I can’t wait to see you in action.” She forced a smile.
“I’m glad you could make it. I look forward to your testimony.” He glanced at his watch, a low-end Rolex, and Deborah froze. It was nearly a duplicate of the one she’d stolen. She wondered if it had the same engraving on its back, “Faithful for all time.”
The Booster Club Page 12