by Rita Lakin
Sadie has absented herself. She’s wandered down memory lane in a world far, far away. In another galaxy? ‘Do you have any idea how many hurricanes Gray Lady has been through?’
Sophie asks, ‘Gray Lady?’
Louie, ‘That’s the name of our house.’
Sadie comments, ‘Almost got us in ’51 when Easy hit.’
Louie disagrees. ‘Worse in ’66 when Inez really packed a wallop.’
Sadie, ‘Betsy in ’65 was worse than Inez. You know that.’
Sophie whispers. ‘They’re talking about hurricanes. Why are they talking about hurricanes?’
We’ve lost them to ancient history. The girls are looking to each other, puzzled.
Louie, ‘Floyd in ’57 beat Betsy.’
It’s turned into an argument, with heated, though still shaky, voices.
Sadie, ‘Donna in ’60!’ With trembling lips as well.
They are working themselves into a tizzy. Bella and Sophie are totally confused.
I knock gently on the table to bring them back to the real world. Now the table has its own quake as well. I hope it won’t collapse.
‘Louie, Sadie, we’re here, how can we help you?’
They pull themselves back to the present time, looking around as if to remind themselves of where they are.
‘Sorry,’ Sadie says.
‘Sorry,’ Louie says.
Evvie comments, ‘We were recently given to believe Robert’s death was an accident.’
Louie, upset, tries to get up, totters, changes his mind and drops back down. ‘Robert, he was the good guy, not like the others. He protected us. They won’t.’
‘And we know that for sure it was not an accident,’ Sadie says, firmly.
Evvie pipes up, ‘How could you know that?’
Louie again. ‘We just do.’
The Wassingers grin at that.
‘Why are you so firm it was murder?’ I repeat. We need to get them on point again, before they go off on another useless tangent.
Louie says, grandiose, ‘Because we …’
And sure enough, Sadie takes her turn, ‘… have a witness!’
Louie next, ‘… who saw it all,’
And Sadie completes it. ‘… Papa saw Robert being murdered.’
Evvie asks, ‘Did he go to the police and report it?’
Sadie, uncomfortable. ‘Of course, not.’ They both snicker.
Evvie asks, ‘Why not?’
I ask, ‘Where is your witness? We ought to talk to him.’
Sadie, ‘Louie, I’m right and you are wrong, sweetheart. Donna nearly finished us. Shattered all the windows, made us run for our lives, poor Snow White, number three, was terrified. Or was she number four …?’
Louie, ‘It was Snow White number six, and wrong, it was Floyd!’
Sadie, ‘Not Floyd, Donna!’
Louie is at fever pitch, ‘Hurricane Andrew in 1992 was the most destructive hurricane we ever suffered through! It was twenty-five years later that Irma made the list for worst! So, there!’
Sadie, sweetly, ‘Yes, dear.’
Uh oh, lost them to hurricaneville again.
I get up. The girls quickly do the same, pushing away from their unsteady chairs.
‘It’s getting late and I’m sure we need to have dinner. Perhaps we can come back in the morning?’
The Wassingers rise and look perplexed. They head, house slippers skimming the floor, inch by inch, again for the front door as we follow.
Much shaking of hands. Louie says, ‘Yes. Tomorrow. For breakfast, coffee. Sadie prepares a lovely coffee.’
Like the high tea?
Once outside, we group in front of my car for a few minutes, and just stand there. Numb. Sophie is making a big deal out of breathing cat-less fresh air. Bella has stopped looking upward in the sky for cobwebs.
Evvie brushes her dusty clothes, and says, ‘What was that all about?’
I haven’t a clue.
ELEVEN
Ida on the Phone Late Night
‘Hi. Gladdy, is this a good time to call?’ Ida is seated at her kitchen table, in between balancing the phone and munching on her late dinner of roast chicken, veggies, French fries and a Coke. She figures ten p.m. isn’t too late to call.
‘Hi, Ida. Perfect timing. We just had our first meeting with the Wassingers. In fact, we’re all sitting in my car right outside their home, trying to figure out what just went down. It was quite an extraordinary experience.’
‘Tell me. Tell me.’
‘Let me put us on the speakerphone so we can all hear. The girls are leaning in, and don’t want to miss a thing.’
Ida smiles at the chorus of the girls saying hello. She calls hello back to them.
Sophie jumps in. ‘You wouldn’t believe our clients. Two itsy-bitsy people, who are very, very old.’
Ida sips at her Coke, laughing, ‘Older than we are?’
Bella, ‘Lots older. Lots and lots. They’re very, very old. Not like us. We’re good old.’
Sophie, ‘They’re so funny. They finish each other’s sentences.’
Gladdy adds, ‘And it’s difficult keeping them on track.’
Evvie, ‘You should have heard them talking about all the hurricanes they went through. They were so funny; they forgot we were even there.’
Sophie, ‘They’re very secretive.’
Bella, ‘I’d call them weird.’
Ida, still eating her dinner, sucks away the bone marrow on the chicken bones. ‘That is amusing. But what about the case?’
Gladdy answers that one. ‘There seems to be a difference of opinion; it comes down to the Wassingers being the only people in Key West who think Mr Strand was murdered. Everyone else insists it was an accident. I wish we had known that before we left. We should have asked for more information.’
Ida is tackling her French fries. ‘Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you. At first it sounded open and shut.’
Gladdy says, ‘True.’ She pauses. ‘But most important, how are you feeling?’
Ida is finishing the last of her French fries, and she wipes her greasy fingers with a napkin. ‘That’s why I called. I have two things to discuss with you.’
Sophie sings out into the phone. ‘I thought it was just because you missed us.’
Ida starts on her strawberries and whipped cream dessert. ‘That, too. But first, big surprise. I don’t have the flu. I must have had some odd bug, because, it’s gone. Totally. I’m one hundred percent back to normal. I feel healthy and happy.’
Bella, ‘That’s nice. ’Cause, when we saw you, you looked like you were dying.’
Sophie interrupts, ‘That’s good news. Then come and join us.’
Bella, ‘Yeah, jump on a plane; you’ll be here in minutes. Well, maybe an hour.’
Sophie, ‘We’ll be so glad to see you. You’ll get a kick out of the Wassingers. They’re a hoot.’
Ida wipes up the rest of the strawberries with one finger. ‘Girls, you don’t remember. I hate to fly. I never fly. I only did it once and it scared the heck out of me. I would shoot myself in the foot before I get on an airplane again.’
Bella apologizing, ‘We forgot. I got another idea. Rent a car and drive down all by yourself and join us.’
Sophie, ‘Great idea. Too bad you won’t have us for company.’
Ida examines the dish, but it’s empty. ‘No. No. No way. I gave up my license years ago. That’s when I also sold my car. Remember? And besides, I would never drive such a distance alone. So forget about it. I’m stuck here.’
Bella and Sophie together, ‘We forgot.’
Evvie, ‘Sorry about that. You’ll just have to get updates from us. We’ll keep you posted. But, what was the second thing?’
Leaning her phone on her shoulder near her ear, Ida picks up her dirty dishes and heads for the sink. ‘Gladdy, you’re getting a lot of calls from Lola on the business phone.’
That’s a surprise to her. ‘Lola Binder? Whatever for?
’
Bella giggles, ‘Maybe she heard we’re mad at Hy and she wants to save his silly butt.’
Sophie joins in the giggling, pretending shock. ‘Bella, don’t talk dirty, it’s not nice.’
Ida is disappointed, nothing more to eat. ‘No, she sounds worried. She says things like it’s a matter of life or death.’
Gladdy says, ‘Really? What’s wrong? Did she give you any details about what the trouble was?’
‘That’s just it. She refuses to tell me anything. She has a problem she wants only you to solve. She’s so mad because she can’t talk to you directly. It’s gotta be about Hy, ’cause he wasn’t there in the apartment. I told her you were out of town. But she was adamant. She only wants you.’
‘Well, that’s silly. You call her back and tell her that while I’m away, you are in charge of our business. Or she can go elsewhere. Be strong. Be tough.’
Ida pretending meek, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Ida thinks about this.
Gladdy says, ‘Well, that’s settled …’
Evvie says, ‘The Wassingers are keeping something from us.’
Ida laughs. ‘I’m positive you’ll figure it all out without me.’
Bella, ‘Say goodbye. We’re tired and hungry.’
Ida, ‘I heard that. So, goodbye.’
The phone call is over. Ida puts the dishes in the sink to soak and addresses her mirrored reflection on her glass-windowed stove. ‘Be strong. Be tough. Strong. Tough.’
She whirls around. ‘I can be that.’
TWELVE
Clarity. Jasmine Tea. And Real Facts
We didn’t get around to Margaritaville or any typical Key West restaurants tonight. We weren’t going to watch the sunset with a hundred or more people at Mallory Square. Too late. We hop into the nearest all-night coffee shop and order hamburgers and sodas. I order a small salad. I can’t believe they were still hungry after all that food today.
Gladdy Gold and Associates are flummoxed and exhausted from keeping up with the Wassinger rigmarole. The subject of the Wassingers is like an itch we keep on scratching. In between chewing, we can’t stop our curiosity.
We had asked questions that got us no answers.
‘Was there really a cat inside?’ Sophie asks, while eating her burger, medium rare.
‘Did anyone see any spiders?’ Bella asked worriedly over her burger, also medium rare. Naturally, she orders what Sophie chooses.
‘What was that comment about lawyers?’ Evvie asks while having her burger, well done.
More and more things to ponder while I’m just picking at my salad. What really was the worst hurricane? Did we care? Where does their papa live? And what has he got to do with this crime. Is it even a crime? Who was the witness to a crime that may or may not have taken place?
My own question to myself: why are we here? Really? This is giving me a headache.
Evvie reminds me, ‘We never had a chance to ask about the mystery letters in your mailbox.’
We need to talk to someone who makes sense. Someone who can answer these puzzling questions. I drive us back to our Brown Pelican Inn and hope Teresa, our manager, is still awake.
We arrive back at the inn. Lights are dimmed. All residents are either night owls and out on the town or sound asleep. The lobby is quiet. Too late to find Teresa. I’m disappointed.
Suddenly, surprisingly, Teresa appears. She’s glad we came back and looked for her. In fact, she tells us, she was waiting for us. She apologizes for her strange behavior earlier. She invites us for tea before bedtime, and feels she needs to explain.
This time we are served jasmine tea in the lobby, enjoying a much-improved tea served with lemon cookies.
When do my girls stop eating? I speculate.
‘You really are private eyes?’ Teresa asks, looking us up and down more closely. She doesn’t say it but I guess she is wondering how this is possible.
‘Yes, we are. And have been for three whole years,’ Evvie chimes in.
Sophie preens. ‘With a perfect score of closed cases.’
Bella nods, twin-like. ‘Perfect. No case too big, no case too small. We win ’em all.’
Evvie explains briefly. ‘We deal with seniors’ problems and being seniors ourselves, we understand. It works.’
Teresa is pleased. ‘Well, good for you. And lucky for all the seniors you’ve helped. However, I feel I should say a few words up front. You are nice women, and forgive me for being presumptuous by poking into your business, but I believe you’ve made this trip needlessly.’
The girls stare at her in distress. Not I, because that’s what I’ve been thinking to myself. Unusual for them, they stay quiet and don’t interrupt.
Teresa passes us the plate of cookies. Only Sophie and Bella take more. Sophie reminds me of that little joke about when you’re on vacation the calories don’t count.
Teresa leans forward in her chair. ‘Let me start from the beginning and perhaps you’ll understand. I’m well aware of how worried my friends, Louie and Sadie, are. And rightly so.’
Evvie asks, ‘You know them well?’
Teresa nods. ‘Of course I do. For years. They originally were the Wassinger Worldwide Travel Agency. They helped tourists plan trips for those who visit the keys and foreign travel as well. It was a highly successful business. Then they retired at age sixty-five.
‘For many years after that, they traveled a great deal themselves to enjoy the trips they had suggested for others. But, as Louie would say, and has said many times, they’ve lived too long.
‘After they decided that, because of their age, they didn’t feel capable of travel anymore, they returned home for good. They’d planned ahead with a good retirement plan. They were happy to spend what they described as their last good years in their precious house. She gardened. He belonged to the Historic Society, which helped restore and protect famous homes that had become national treasures.’
‘But?’ Evvie commented, ‘There’s a “but”.’
Teresa pours us more tea. ‘But, once they hit their eighties, they eventually ran out of the pension money. They couldn’t keep the house up. They watched its slow demise in despair. A roof that leaked. Floors that needed repair. Painting required inside as well as out. They couldn’t pay for any of it. They eked out money from the equity on their mortgage and that’s what they’re living on.
‘They’re in their nineties and nearly senile and I worry about them. They aren’t afraid of dying, but they are afraid for their house. They don’t want to sell it and go into a retirement home. They don’t want it sold, even after they are gone.’
I think that’s odd. Wouldn’t the house be inherited by someone?
Evvie jumps ahead of me. ‘That’s where this Robert Strand came in?’
‘Yes, as a partner in the law firm, Strand, Smythe and Love, Robert was getting close to his retirement. He stayed on to keep the Wassingers as his only clients. He promised them he’d get their house listed with the Historic Society and it would be preserved.’
I finally ask the question. ‘They have no heirs?’
‘Robert Strand was to inherit.’
I wonder about their papa, but I don’t want to break Teresa’s train of thought.
‘Now Robert Strand is gone,’ Evvie says, refusing a third cup of tea. She raises her hand, as if in school. ‘I think I see where this is going.’
Teresa nods, answering her unasked thought. ‘It will then be passed down to the other lawyers, who they fear will immediately turn it over to realtors. The house will be sold to people who probably will tear it down. There is a real estate company that is already sniffing around.’ She wrings her hands, distraught. ‘Long ago, I advised the Wassingers to leave it directly to the Historic Society, but they felt more secure knowing Robert would handle it.
‘And right now, they seem too paralyzed to do anything. They are mourning Robert.’
I ask Teresa, ‘What do you think happened to Robert?’
She waits for a momen
t, as if in battle with herself. Finally, sadly, she shakes her head. ‘It’s as I said before, it was a freak accident.’
Sophie finally needs to talk and makes an assumption. ‘Is that why the Wassingers need to think Robert was murdered?’
I’m stunned. ‘Surely they don’t think someone killed him because of the house?’
Teresa nods, again. ‘They do believe precisely that. They’re adamant and won’t let go of it. That’s why they called you.’
A few minutes of silence as we digest this.
‘But they’re the only ones who think he was murdered,’ Teresa continues. ‘The police are absolutely convinced it was an accident.’
‘The coroner?’ I ask.
‘An accident,’ Teresa answers.
Sophie is up next. ‘Robert’s law offices?’
‘An accident. The law firm assured the Wassingers that they would take good care of their house for them. The Wassingers don’t trust them.’
The time is now. I can’t put it off any longer. ‘I have a funny question to ask. If they don’t have any heirs, or relatives, and they’re obviously not interested in getting whatever money they’d get for the house sale; then what about this papa, who says he is a witness, and why hasn’t he stepped forward?’
Teresa suddenly stiffens and stares, like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Then she stretches and yawns. ‘Bedtime. I think I’ve bored you enough.’ She gets up. ‘Sleep well.’ And she walks quickly away. Leaving all the tea things.
We stay silent for a moment, then Evvie smirks. ‘What a phony yawn.’
‘Obviously that question shut her down,’ I say. ‘But why?’
Evvie, ‘I guess their witness can’t go to the police. Or won’t. But why?’
I say, astounded, ‘And Teresa has the answer but refuses to tell us.’
There’s much to discuss about what we’ve just been told, but all agree; they are exhausted and just want to sleep. It can wait until tomorrow. Obviously, the cookies can’t; Sophie and Bella grab what’s left of them.
Though, for a while, we can hear Sophie and Bella down the hall probably chatting about this odd day. Or maybe discussing all the food they ate. Or maybe chewing on the rest of the cookies, followed by Tums.
