by Rita Lakin
Sophie is down early, a minor miracle. The pile of Bingo Bugles is there and she can’t wait to see the photos of this week’s big winners from all over the country. Sophie’s flavor today is lemon and she’s dressed head to toe in that confection.
I open my mailbox to find letters from my grandchildren in New York. Bless them, they write me every week, with a little urging from my daughter, Emily. I look around to make sure Ida isn’t here. She never gets mail from her family. It breaks her heart, and I don’t like to read mine in front of her. This week’s offerings are drawings. Elizabeth, the oldest, sent ballet sketches. Erin drew her beloved horses. Pat sent cartoons he’s created, and Lindsay, the budding photographer, sent funny photos of her menagerie of dogs and cats. I put the mail in my pocket to reread and enjoy again later.
I hear a smattering of laughter and I turn to see a group clustered around one of the picnic tables. Tessie is holding court. I walk over to see what’s got everyone’s interest. Tessie is reading Evvie’s latest review aloud. She’s laughing so hard her massive chins and arms are jiggling. Her audience is rapt.
Our two newest tenants, the cute cousins Casey and Barbi, are enjoying the entertainment. They look like they are just about to leave to play tennis, and they are adorable in their tennis togs. It’s nice to see young faces around here.
Even Denny Ryan, our maintenance man, has stopped sweeping the palm fronds to listen. Denny has finally recovered from the harrowing escape he had two months ago. He’s back to working on his garden, and he has a new interest: the adorable Yolanda, who takes such good care of our Millie. So far, the two of them have only exchanged shy smiles, but we hope they’ll soon get further along in their relationship.
When Tessie sees me she starts over. I want to tell her not to bother, since Evvie makes me read everything before she sends it in, but Tessie starts emoting.
“‘Knishes or Knocks? Good Girl Goes Très Bad by Evvie Markowitz. Review of the French movie He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not.’”
Evvie, pretending to stroll, is watching people read her paper, occasionally smiling at a thumbs-up sent in her direction. Hearing Tessie, she turns. She waves toward us in her most grandiose manner, graciously bowing, like the true artiste she is.
Tessie waves back. As she continues to read, Evvie lip-syncs along with her.
“‘Another French movie, and you know how this reviewer loves French movies.’ We sure do know, Evvie.” There is a happy nodding and murmuring at that.
“‘We loved her in Amélie, but I warn you, you’re not gonna love Audrey Tautou here as she stalks a doctor, a handsome cardiologist who she loves. Wink, wink, a cardiologist, a doctor of the heart. So how come he doesn’t love her back, she’s so sweet? But then again, he’s married, so maybe that’s why. At first it doesn’t look like she’s stalking, she looks like a girl in love. But believe me, she is stalking, because later in the movie everything turns all around and what was one thing five minutes ago is now something else. But we don’t care; she’s gorgeous whether she’s good or bad, until she starts destroying her friend’s apartment and then rips up her wedding dress. She gets weirder and weirder and we start to think maybe she should have gone for a psychiatrist instead of a cardiologist. It was a confusing movie but I’m sure I explained it perfectly.’” Tessie grins as she finishes the review. “‘So, Knishes or Knocks? I give it two knishes. Loved Audrey but the story was not much.’”
Tessie bows and her audience applauds. Evvie comes over to shake hands with all her admirers.
Ida and Bella show up finally and our group moves off to another of the picnic tables on the grass. We are gathering to plan our errands for the day.
“So how was your date last night?” Bella jumps right in.
“Great,” I say noncommittally.
“So how was the food?” asks Sophie, still reading the Bugle. “You really ate raw fish?”
“Yes,” I say.
“So how’s Morrie?” asks Ida.
I love the way they always take turns. I wonder if they draw straws beforehand to see who goes first.
They never take the hint. They know I won’t tell them anything, but they still ask. “Fine.”
“Feh,” complains Bella, “she’s worse with words than that stingy Irving.” She gives me a gentle poke. “It wouldn’t kill you to share.”
“Hey, listen to this,” Sophie says, excitedly waving the newspaper. “They’re having a drawing in the Bugle for a free luxury bingo cruise for two! And it ends this week.”
“Big deal,” says Ida. “You really think you have a chance in hell of winning?” She continues to browse through her mail. “All ads,” she says with disgust. She hides her disappointment.
“Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. I’m buying five dollars’ worth. Anyone want to throw in a buck?”
Bella dips daintily into her purse, pulls out a dollar bill, and offers it over to Sophie. “Count me in, partner.”
There are no other takers. “You’ll be sorry,” Sophie warns. “When I win, I get to pick my companion, so you better start being extra nice to me.”
“What do you mean—when you win? What about me? I put my money in. Can’t I be the companion?” Bella says.
Sophie ignores her.
“I miss bingo,” Bella complains. “Now that we stay out late on our stakeouts, I’m too tired to play the next day.”
“Me, too,” adds Sophie.
“I never win, so I don’t miss it,” says Ida, the perpetual voice of negativity.
A group of women walk toward us, looking very determined. Those who are still hanging around the mailboxes stay to see what this is about.
Hy and Lola, standing on their balcony on the second floor, are leaning over the railing scanning the action. Mr. and Mrs. King of the Roost!
“Well, look who’s here,” says Tessie, sunning herself on her bench while eating potato chips. She’s always eating something. She waves to one of the women. “Hey, Sarah, what’s up?”
There is an exchange of greetings between those who know these members of Phase Five.
May Levine is the spokesperson. “We’ve come to see Gladdy.” The four women walk up to our picnic table. “We want to hire you.”
Hy leans far over the railing. “Hey, Glad, I told you about the peeper. She’s the one who got peeped.” He struts up and down the balcony, proud of himself.
May looks at me, surprised. “You already know?”
Hy isn’t finished. “Of course she knows. I told her. I know everything that goes on around here. Sometimes before it even happens.”
May scowls, turns her back on Hy, and looks at us.
Evvie asks, “Did you recognize the guy?”
“No,” May says, hands on hips, “but if I ever see that limp putz again I’d know it!”
Bella covers her ears as everyone else laughs.
“The coward was wearing a mask!” number two in the delegation, Sarah, contributes.
“A Superman mask,” says number three, Edna.
“Did he wear a cape?” Casey wants to know. Her cousin Barbi adds, “With a big yellow S on it?” Apparently this is more interesting than getting to the tennis court.
May says, “I don’t know, all I saw were his eyes through the mask. And the putz.”
More giggles.
Practical me asks if she called the police.
May says, “Of course I did. Did I expect they would do anything? No. They laughed! And embarrassed me because they wanted me to translate putz.”
“This is a job for Superwoman,” Sophie announces dramatically, pointing at me.
Sarah announces, “We, the women of Phase Five, want to hire you to find—”
“The putz!” Tessie screams out hysterically, spilling potato chip crumbs down her sizable bosom.
It’s becoming a circus. But why am I surprised? I should have moved this meeting upstairs. Too late. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.
Hy joins in again from above. “Let’s ge
t all the guys around here to drop their pants!”
Lola smacks him on the head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you letch! Showing off your equipment. We don’t know that he’s even from around here!”
“First,” says occasionally practical Evvie, “let’s talk about the fee.”
The four ladies of Phase Five look shocked.
“What fee?” asks Sarah.
“You do this for money?” asks May. “I never heard of such a thing.”
Evvie raises an eyebrow. “You got a problem with that? What do you think—we’re a nonprofit organization?”
May says, “This affects all the phases. Let everybody chip in.”
“Hey,” says Edna petulantly, “next time it could be you! If you live on the ground floor.”
“Yeah,” says Sarah. “What about doing it pro bony?” Obviously they, too, watch the jargon-filled lawyer and cop shows.
“How about pro boner?” Tessie screams with laughter.
“That’s pro bono,” Evvie corrects, hiding a grin.
“Just go and catch him,” demands May Levine, hands on hips.
“Oy,” moans Bella, “more night work.”
Well, I guess I have a new client. Pro boner.
15
A Funeral in Boca
I still don’t get it,” Evvie complains. “Why are we schlepping up to Boca? And why did I need to wear dark colors and stockings?”
She hasn’t stopped questioning me since we started our drive up the AIA to Boca Raton.
“Can’t you just enjoy a nice ride along the coast and not make a big deal about it?”
“No,” she says. “I had a nice rummy tiles game set up for today that you made me cancel. Besides, enquiring minds want to know. And furthermore, why did we have to lie to the girls? Why couldn’t they come along?”
“I gave them an assignment, didn’t I? I asked them to go door-to-door in the other phases to find out if anybody would like to report on a Peeping Tom incident.”
I think about Evvie when she was a kid. Always asking “Why?” No matter how many times I’d answer, there was another why. Even though I was only two years older, big sister was supposed to know everything.
“And besides,” I say, “aren’t you glad to have a day alone with me for a change?”
“Yeah, but I still would like to know why.”
I smile. Good old dependable Ev. It used to drive me crazy when I was young, but now I really like her “enquiring mind.”
Evvie pulls at her black cotton blouse, trying to blow air down her front. “Black makes you hotter and I’m sweating. Turn up the air.”
“It’s as ‘up’ as it goes.”
“But why didn’t you just tell them where we were headed?”
“All right already. It’s because we’re going to a funeral. And you know how they behave at cemeteries. Bella won’t walk on the grave markers, Ida hates anything to do with death—”
“Wait a minute. Somebody died?”
“If one is attending a funeral, one might say that. But relax, it’s nobody we know.”
“Then why are we going?”
I sigh and turn off my Andrea Bocelli tape. Boy, do I love that guy’s voice. “I intended to use the time on the trip to fill you in, but no—you have to know everything all at once. I’m filling you in now.”
“Well, if you had just said so…”
“Shh, listen. When I had dinner the other night with Jack and Morrie, I opened my big mouth and said I thought those two women, the one in Boca and the one in West Palm Beach, were murdered.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Don’t comment. Those two women were both wealthy, both died unexpectedly of heart attacks. Less than a week apart? Too convenient.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “You believe that?”
“I’ve no idea. It just popped out of my mouth. I really made a fool of myself, spinning theories like there might be a serial killer who hated rich women, or someone was killing them to work their way up the twenty-five-richest list.”
Evvie ponders that for a moment. “Like Alec Guinness in Kind Hearts and Coronets?” Evvie relates everything to movies she’s seen.
“I mean, it’s possible, isn’t it?” I ask her. “How come unexpected heart attacks? They weren’t that old. They had plenty of dough to spend on keeping healthy. My money’s on the ones who will be getting their money. Like their husbands.”
Evvie’s look is shrewd. “You can’t just be happy finding cheating husbands and lost purses?”
I don’t answer.
“You already solved a big murder in our condo. Wasn’t that enough? Now you think everyone with heart attacks is murdered?” She looks at me intently. “Glad, what are you doing?”
For a long moment I don’t speak. My sister knows me better than I ever give her credit for. Evvie waits.
“I don’t know.”
Evvie reaches over and pats my shoulder. I see tears form in her eyes. “You can’t save the world,” she says.
“All I want is closure.”
“It won’t bring him back.”
“Please change the subject.” I’m sorry now that I let this come up. What’s the use? Even after forty years the pain is still fresh.
For a while we concentrate on scenery. We are afforded quick views of the beach between the fancy high-rise condos along the road.
“Wonder what those babies must cost,” Evvie says to break the tension.
“A lot.”
After a few moments, I look at Evvie. She’s too quiet. “What?”
“Just remembering some stuff.”
“What?”
“When our kids were little. And Emily used to come to my house after school.”
“Until I got home from my job at the library.”
“Yeah.”
“Our kids got along real well.” She laughs. “When they weren’t beating one another up.”
“And when Emily wasn’t crying over losing her father.”
“That, too. She was very brave. She didn’t in-flict her sadness on the rest of us.”
“No, she saved it for when I got home and the two of us cried together.”
Evvie leans her head against my shoulder for a moment. “Those were hard days.”
“Yes, but thanks to you, there were so many wonderful ones. You organized the birthday parties. You took them to zoos and movies and parks. You gave my daughter joy in her childhood. I owe you big.”
Evvie is never good at taking compliments. “You would have done it for me.”
We are quiet for a while.
“The nightmares are coming back,” I say softly.
Evvie throws me a worried look. “About Jack?”
I nod. “Funny, both men in my life named Jack. And it’s the new Jack putting pressure on me to marry him that’s bringing up the memories of my old Jack.”
“Are you seriously thinking of marrying him?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. I really feel as if I could love that man. He’s such a terrific person. Yet, I’m afraid.”
“You dated over the years. What’s the difference now?”
“I never was serious about the others. Now I am.”
“But you’re afraid you’ll lose him, too?”
“Yes. And I can’t give up my loyalty to my husband.”
“Glad. He’d want you to be happy.”
“I know, but my mind won’t accept it.”
“But we’ve got it good, us girls. Why would you want to change that? Isn’t it enough? Do you really need a man in your life at this age?”
“Hey, what side are you on? First you encourage me to marry and then you’re making a case for staying with you and the girls.”
“I only want what’s best for you. And I’m not sure which it is.” Evvie warms to her subject. “Maybe I’m just being selfish and I don’t want to lose you.
“I mean, I know how it was when you first got here. You had your Brain
iacs Club—you and all your smart college-grad pals. Francie and Millie and Conchetta and Sandra and Joan. You and your New York Times crossword puzzles and the political lecture series and plays you went to that we never understood.”
“Things changed.”
“They sure did. Francie’s dead and Millie’s got Alzheimer’s and Joan and Sandra moved back up north. You still have Conchetta.”
“Not very often. Between the library and her very big family, I hardly see her.”
“My friends made room for you. I know they’re not the smartest, but they all love you.”
This is the first time Evvie has ever said these things, and I am touched.
“Hey, I love you all, too. You’re all cute and sweet, even though sometimes you drive me crazy. I’d give you a hug, but I’d run the car off the road.”
She grins. “I’ll collect later.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Ev, I don’t honestly know what I want to do. I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Evvie smiles at me.
“You’ll be the first to know.” I reach for my water bottle. Evvie sips at her Diet Coke. For a few moments, we are both lost in our thoughts.
“Wanna laugh?” I say. “Guess what I just learned the other night? Jack was also a cop—a homicide detective like Morrie, not in some boring office job in ‘Administration.’”
“No kidding. That’s nice to know. Maybe he can protect us with that great big gun he must have.”
I laugh. “Naughty, naughty. Shame on you.”
Evvie pokes me in the shoulder and laughs.
I can tell she is trying to get past our past. She straightens in her seat and freshens her makeup using the sun-visor mirror.
“About this funeral …?”
“It’s for Josephine Dano Martinson, who died all alone in a steam room in her health spa.”
“And we are going to accomplish …what?”
“I’m not sure. I just thought if we went there something might jump out at us.”
“Yeah, a ghost.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
“I mean, I thought of going to the golf course where Mrs. Sampson died or the spa where Mrs. Martinson died, but those are private places and we’d never get in. By now, whatever evidence there was is probably gone. Anyway, this funeral is outside. We can meander and not be noticed, so that’s why we’re going. Clear?”