by Rita Lakin
Is insanity contagious?
I can’t believe I’m saying this. ‘And what does Mr Hemingway look like?’
Bella, stuttering with delight, ‘He’s a big guy with a bushy white beard and mustache. He still has all his hair! He’s wearing light brown shorts and a jacket …’
Sadie interrupts. ‘His favorite safari jacket. And straw fedora.’
Louie tells us to pay attention. Just as well, we can’t speak, anyway. ‘I have to do my recitation now. Whenever I visit Papa, I recite some of his very famous words. It’s my homework. This is from A Farewell to Arms.’ Louie emotes with waving arms and lots of feeling:
‘“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken place, but those who that will not break, it kills”.’
Louie bows. Sadie claps at his performance.
I think to myself. No wonder I was not a Hemingway fan. I always found his prose choppy. And sometimes just plain bad. What the hell am I doing? A book report? Bella is talking to a ghost and we’re behaving as if this is sane! If Ida were here, she’d be choking with laughter.
‘Ooh,’ Sadie says, wagging a finger at Bella. ‘It’s for you,’ she says indicating the imaginary literary giant.
Bella listens to the air above the wicker chair as we, feeling dim-witted, continue to gape. Her cheeks break out into blushes.
Evvie, unable to stand the ridiculousness of it all, sneers, ‘And what did Papa H. just say to adorable you?’
Bella smiles, ‘He recited lines to me from the same book.’ She tilts her ear, to listen again. And repeats, ‘“I am not … brave anymore, darling … I’m all broken. They’ve broken me”.’ Bella is touched by his words. She curtsies again.
Evvie whispers to me, ‘I’d like to smack her. Damn. I read that book. I think the lines are correct. Boring and banal, but correct.’
I whisper back. ‘I read it, too. Remember, you loaned it to me. I also remember those lines. Bella couldn’t possibly be making that up.’
Sophie asks me, one step hovering on the spiral staircase, ‘What do we do now?’
‘I have no idea.’
Evvie can’t resist. With a twinkle of her eye, she says, ‘Bella, ask your new friend if he sent Gladdy letters back home? In white envelopes?’
Bella turns miffed, ‘I don’t have to ask him. He’s not deaf. He can hear you.’
Evvie grim, ‘And what was his answer?’ She faces the empty chair. If looks could kill. But then, again, he’s already dead.
Bella, reporter par excellence, answers, ‘Of course he sent it. Louie addressed, stamped and mailed it. Didn’t you read it?’
Evvie places her hands on her hips, refusing to face Papa. ‘We were supposed to read blank pages?’
Bella listens again, then bows her head. ‘He said what kind of detectives are you? You should have been able to figure it out.’
Evvie is annoyed, but can’t stop herself. ‘And how were we supposed to do that?’
Bella, repeating the master’s words, ‘Any kindergarten kid knows that you use lemon juice on invisible writing. It was an invitation to come here. Dummies, he calls you.’
Louie and Sadie are glowing. Happy that Papa at least likes one of us.
Louie jumps in. ‘Don’t you see why he can’t be a witness? There are so many unbelievers out there. That’s why we hired you. To make the others understand. Papa witnessed the whole thing. He knows what really happened to our poor lawyer friend, Robert. As if a fish could kill!’
Sadie adds, worriedly. ‘Papa’s been our house guest since 1961. If, after we’re gone, they tear down this house, where can he go? He used to live in his own mansion around the corner, but they turned it into a museum …’
And of course, Louie finishes her thoughts, ‘… and Papa couldn’t stand the crowds, the annoying children or the noise, so he moved in with us.’
Louie stops short. The Wassingers tremble. They are being addressed by their ‘house guest’. From their tremors, it must be bad.
Louie recites Papa’s final words, embarrassed. ‘I cannot abide fools. You silly women weary me. Time for my daquiri and noon nap. Adios, muchachas.’
Sadie and Louie shrug. Meeting adjourned.
We start for the staircase. Louie calls out to us. ‘Expect a quiz next time.’
I don’t bother answering.
SIXTEEN
Aftermath. Still Dazed. Are We Crazy?
We are minutes into my car, windows closed, AC on; right after our meeting with – can I believe I’m even saying this – Ernest Hemingway’s ghost.
Bella is cringing in the back seat, all of us staring at her; each with an assortment of expressions of disbelief. Since she is practically in Sophie’s lap, her closeness is more intimidating. Secretly, I think she expects her once dear friend to hit her.
Evvie turns so that she can face the two in the back, and says with irony, ‘Let the interrogation begin.’ Not that our partners would understand that word, but they catch the meaning.
‘Well?’ says Sophie.
‘Well, what?’ Bella answers her best friend with terror in her eyes. She squirms, trapped, with nowhere to go.
Evvie. ‘So you really chatted with a ghost? You really saw him and heard him?’
Bella, on the defensive, ‘You were there. You saw. You heard.’
Evvie again. ‘How is that possible? There’s no such thing as a ghost. Or zombies or mummies or vampires. Or hungry werewolves!’
Bella, cowers. ‘I can’t explain it. I just knew.’
Evvie still unbelieving, ‘You just knew. Oh, really? I didn’t think we lived next door to Baba Vanga.’
Sophie squints, ‘Who’s Baba Vanga?’
I turn to Evvie at that one. ‘Who?’
Evvie answers aggressively, ‘A blind Bulgarian mystic. She sort of predicted the end of the world.’
I’m startled. ‘Where on earth did you pick that up?’
Evvie is dismayed, ‘We read about her in my book club!’
A moment of silence. Lots of glaring going around.
Sophie brings us back to our attack of poor Bella, ‘Does their Papa look like a real person?’
Bella, ‘I guess, sort of, I’m not sure, like on TV, or a movie when it’s a black and white, kind of flat, faded …’
Evvie, upbeat for a moment, ‘Reminds me of that little kid in the movie. What did he keep saying? “I see dead people”.’
Sophie, ‘Yeah, we saw that one. Creepy.’
I can’t resist, ‘And we’re supposed to see dead authors.’
Evvie, ‘Just one, I hope. What if he has friends?’
Sophie adds, ‘Don’t go there; we have enough to worry about.’ She grimaces. ‘That thing, whatever it is, insulted us! What nerve.’
There’s a long pause, all of us thinking. It lasts a while as we ponder the preposterous. Finally, I say, ‘Bella couldn’t have made those lines up. She wouldn’t have known those quotes.’ I look sharply at our scared partner.
Bella, with arms folded. ‘Yeah. That’s right. I only read romance novels.’ She wiggles as best she can away from Sophie. Who equally wishes she was far away from her.
Evvie. ‘This is so nutsy. If we ever told anyone they’d think we were crazy.’
I add, ‘Teresa knows. That’s why she ended our discussion so abruptly. She didn’t want to deal with her friends’ eccentricity. But I bet she thinks the Wassingers are senile and imagining that they are living with a famous ghost.’
Bella stiffens, feeling righteous. ‘But I didn’t imagine him. I swear.’
Evvie sighs. ‘There’s that. Now what?’
Bella, poignantly, ‘We go home?’
Evvie, ‘Good idea. And tell everybody we were here on vacation.’
Sophie, ‘That would work. But first we need to go to the beach and get a tan.’
I’m feeling dejected. ‘Right this minute I wish I was on the safari with the guys. Chasing lions and elephants. It would be more restful.’
>
Evvie sighs. ‘I miss my Joe.’
I join in with her sighs, ‘And I definitely do miss my guy.’ Another week and he’ll be back home. And hopefully, I’ll be there to meet the bus.
There is another silence in the car for a few moments. Bella stiffens, waiting for what attack might come next.
Sophie, the lightbulb turning on, ‘I wonder, why can’t Papa move to another home and save us all this trouble?’
I answer. ‘Good question. Why, indeed?’
Bella softly, ‘Nobody else would take him?’
‘Got that right. He’s high maintenance,’ Evvie laughs.
Ominous silence.
Bella. ‘So what do we do now? I wish Ida was here. She’d know I was telling the truth.’
Sophie smirks. ‘Yeah, right. She’d tell us to take you to the nearest booby hatch.’
I say, ‘Reason tells us we’re in a preposterous situation and we should definitely leave for home, tanned or not.’
Sophie says judiciously, ‘Hear, hear. I agree.’ She knocks on the back of my seat.
I shake my head. ‘Not so fast. We can’t ignore the fact that our Bella saw and heard their ghost, outrageous as it seems.’
Bella does her version of, ‘Hear, hear, that’s true.’ Banging on Sophie’s shoulder.
‘So,’ I say, at the risk of being considered a madwoman, ‘we go back to that nut house one more time, and find out what the ghost, that prime witness, “saw”.’
A few moments of absorbing this startling turn of events, Evvie takes on my cause. ‘Are we going to let some ghost scare us away?’
‘No!’ calls out Bella, feeling reprieved.
‘What was that about a quiz?’ Sophie asks. ‘I’m not too good at those.’
Evvie snarls, ‘They couldn’t get local suckers to deal with a ghost. They had to go as far as Fort Lauderdale.’
Bella, not getting it, grinning, ‘And they found us suckers.’
Suddenly we are treating the apparition seriously?
Evvie giggles. ‘Besides, I’m curious.’
Dead silence, then, Sophie says happily, ‘It’s near lunchtime. Let’s eat, I’m starved. Soft-shell crab, anyone?’
Bella is so relieved. The grilling is over.
I turn on the ignition.
Food always seems to come first.
SEVENTEEN
Ida and Lola Fight to Finish
Another inquisition. Lola and Ida. Weary. Morning. They’ve been at it in Lola’s apartment, first in the kitchen, then in the living room. Off and on, most of the day with food breaks of course. But that doesn’t stop Ida noshing as they talk. Ida feels she’s at the top of her game, still channeling her hero, Lt Columbo.
‘Why won’t you call the police?’
‘He would kill me if I did that.’
‘But if you really think your husband’s in danger?’
Shrill, ‘No police. No! That’s why you’re here. Your business is “private” eyes; that means you keep it all confidential!’
‘All right, but I need some help and I’m not getting any from you.’
‘I told you all I know. I don’t know any more.’
‘Tell me again,’ Ida says, chewing away at her pistachio peanuts snack, enjoying that it bothers Lola. Especially when she spits out the shells.
Reluctantly, ‘Sometimes Hy wants to have time out. He needs to be alone.’
‘Like Greta Garbo. So where does Greta go when she “vants to be alooone”?’
‘How should I know? He takes the car. He goes somewhere. He says nothing. He never stays away at night. He always comes home to me. It’s thirty-six hours he’s been away!’
‘And you let him get away with that? You don’t demand that he tell you where he went?’ Ida looks down into her empty bowl. ‘Peanuts are gone. Anymore hummus?’
Lola is in tears by now. ‘You’ve cleaned out my garlic hummus and my Greek hummus and even my yellow lentil hummus. I’m all out of hummuses!’
‘Okay, don’t get excited. Just asking. I need Hy’s cell phone number.’
‘What for? He isn’t answering it. It all goes to message.’
‘Just give it to me.’
‘Okay, don’t be such a bitch. Hold your horses.’ She jots down the phone number on a torn-out piece of the daily newspaper and shoves it at Ida. Ida puts it in her pocket.
Ida makes one last pit stop at the fridge. Opens it and shakes her head, nothing more of interest. Lola glares at her.
‘Where were we? So, this time he didn’t come home. Therefore, going on the assumption that Hy isn’t lying in a gutter bleeding to death, or you’d call the police, I need something to work with. You give me nothing. Not a single clue.’
Near sobbing, ‘What can I say? I’m just a plain, ordinary wife, a happy wife. I love my husband.’
‘Yeah. Yeah. He’s Mr Wonderful. That’s why you’re sitting here, scared stiff and looking like crap.’
‘He’s a perfect husband. So, I don’t ask questions. I’m a perfect wife who lets her husband have a little freedom every once in a while, but I’m worried, he must be in trouble.’ Snarky, ‘I don’t see you with a husband. I can’t imagine anyone living with you!’
‘Hey, lay off of me. You need me, to save your … never mind. You’ll thank me after I find your mysteriously missing hubby. But I need something to work with. Maybe it might be because he’s unhappy in his marriage?’
Self-righteous anger, ‘How many times do I have to say it? I’m a faultless wife. He’s a faultless husband. There’s nothing wrong with my marriage! There are no secrets. In fact, just a few days ago he brought me a beautiful present.’ She lifts a doll from the coffee table in front her.
To Ida it’s really ugly, but obviously Lola sees beauty.
Lola holds it up. ‘It’s an antique Adora doll for my collection. See how the eyes roll all around? That hair that looks so real, that’s from an angora goat. My darling Hy must have spent a hundred dollars.’
Ida restrains from giving her opinion of the silly toy. ‘Birthday present? Or anniversary?’
Lola looks puzzled. ‘No, just a gift … because he cherishes me.’ She grins.
Sardonic Ida can’t resist, ‘Does that often, does he? Plies you with expensive gifts?’
Lola is puzzled. ‘No, not really. But isn’t it wonderful?’
Ida decides it’s time to leave. She’s drained the witness, and there’s nothing more to squeeze out of her. Nothing more to gain. Nothing more to eat.
She heads for the door. ‘So, good afternoon. And if you think of anything useful, call me.’
Lola is begging now, ‘Find him, please.’
And in true Columbo style, Ida leans on the door jamb, about to leave and turns and winks at Lola, using the famous line, ‘Just one more thing before I go.’ She grins, delighting in being malicious. ‘How is your sex life?’
Lola throws the empty hummus carton at Ida, who ducks and hurries out.
‘Yoo hoo, Ida. Stop.’
She turns around, seeing Big Tessie running toward her, past all the parked cars, arms wind-milling, flabby body parts flying in the breeze, puffing for breath.
‘Wait up,’ she insists.
‘Hi, Tessie. You looking for me?’
‘I like to walk when I can’t nap and I can’t get my regular nap when my darling Sol is away to share it with me, though that’s none of your business. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you.’ She pauses. Tessie stares at Ida, taking her in from up to down. ‘What are ya wearing a raincoat for? There’s no rain here. I don’t see no raindrops.’
‘Yeah. Yeah. And it’s ninety degrees. So what do you want?’
‘How do you know I want to talk to you?’
Ida smirks, ‘Because I’m a detective. You were waiting for me to come out of Lola’s apartment.’
Tessie smirks in return. ‘You get any clues from Lola?’
She leers at Tessie, who looks to her like a demented basset hound, drooling spit.
‘You know about Hy?’
‘Of course I know about Hy.’
Why am I surprised? The Yenta Brigade is always on duty. ‘So what do you know?’
She does a kind of jig around Ida. ‘I know plenty.’
‘So, spit it out, already. The day is no longer young and, ditto, neither are you.’
‘What’s it worth to you?’
‘Oy, here we go again; twice in one week. Bribe-arella. You’re gonna want me to pay you for information? Fat chance.’
‘What I know is that the boss of your group is out of town so you’re taking over for Gladdy and this is a new case. And I have vital information.’
‘And you are my snitch?’
‘Call me anything you want, only don’t call me late for meals.’ She chuckles at her pathetic joke.
Ida shakes her head. What a dimwit. ‘Okay. Payola. One free breakfast at The Original Pancake House. Anytime.’
This gives Ida an idea; she’s gonna start keeping a list of expenses, starting with bribery.
‘Big deal. No deal.’ Tessie is not impressed.
‘I take you there for “All The Pancakes You Can Eat” Day.’
Practically salivating, ‘You’re on.’
I lead my chubby informer away from any possibility of Lola watching us from her living room window. We hide to do our spy thing under a massive palm tree, with our feet enmeshed in fronds.
‘I’m all ears, wadda ya know?’
‘Sol was at Levy’s bar the day before he left on that safari thingy …’
‘Wait, where’s there a Jewish bar?’
‘So it was a deli that also served beer.’
‘Get it out already. Before it turns into night and I’m on overtime.’
‘So, Hy is there with some guys and my Sol, and he gets a ding-a-ling.’
‘In a deli?’
‘I know what you’re thinking. You have a dirty mind. Hy’s ding-a-ling is his phone that rings a stupid song when he gets a text message. You figured out what it sings?’
‘I’ve heard it a million times, King of the Hill. Move it along.’
‘Hy reads his text message. My Sol says he turns red as a ripe tomato, and says he needs to piss, and off he goes, texting like crazy on his phone.’
