Getting Old Will Haunt You

by Rita Lakin

  Sadie is near tears. ‘Please. You’re our only hope.’

  Louie says, ‘We called every private eye from here all the way to Miami. No one would help us.’

  I say, ‘I’ve already guessed that we weren’t your first choice.’ The others wouldn’t have jumped in as quickly as we foolishly did without learning about the elephant in the room.

  Evvie, ‘I assume the word “ghost” was a turnoff.’ She smirks.

  Sophie, trying to help adds, ‘I’m sure you nice people probably also believe in aliens from outer space.’

  I say quickly, ‘Sophie, don’t derail us. Don’t get them started on a new topic.’

  Louie, ‘It’s like religion. People believe and others don’t believe.’

  Oh oh, here we go with another sidebar. Probably on the history of those who fervently believe in Extra Terrestrials. What quickly comes to mind are the famous movie words, ‘ET go home’. A good idea for us, too. ‘Please Sadie, Louie, give it up.’

  Evvie says, ‘We’re non-believers in ghosts. So, give us one good reason to stay on this case. We understand your concern for your Papa’s living arrangement, but he’ll have to find another place to haunt.’

  There is a few moments’ silence. Good for Evvie. She’s said what was needed to be said. I’m already thinking about packing.

  Louie and Sadie are as one person. She says, ‘Louie, you tell them.’

  Louie, of course says, ‘No, dear, you’re better at expressing valuable essentials.’

  Sadie says, ‘I bow to your conciseness and astuteness.’

  Here we go again. Another version of listing hurricanes. They’re going to drive us into a stupor with their who-should-do-the-selling-pitch routine. I pretend to look at my watch. Yes, I still wear them. No iPhones for me. ‘Time is marching on.’

  A quick back and forth of the Wassinger’s ‘no, you’, and finally Louie steps forward, blocking us from my car.

  He puffs out his meager chest, lifts his head high and faces us, a serious man about to emote. ‘There is a much larger issue here, besides our dear friend Papa’s residence problem. You didn’t know Robert Strand. A kind man. A loving husband, though Sheila has already passed away. A good father, though his son Billy has had brief bouts with drugs. He’s much better after being in rehab. They’ve given him back his driver’s license. Well-meaning boy, our Billy; so upset about his dad dying.

  I sigh. How long will this go on?

  ‘Robert was the kind of lawyer so different from those who think only about their billing hours and fame and fortune. He looked after those who needed help and couldn’t pay the exorbitant prices. I mean, who can these days? Have you noticed how the economy has tanked?’

  I shake my head at the girls, in warning. Don’t get dragged in.

  Louie, not getting rebuttals, shouts out, ‘The issue here is justice! With a capital J. Robert was murdered. We firmly believe that. Others disagree.’

  Yes, that disagreement includes the entire city.

  ‘We hired you to find out the truth. And the truth shall set us free!’ Louie bows; he’s done. Quite a performance.

  ‘Visit them all. I have a list. Make them tell you the truth!’

  I have to say something. ‘And if we investigate and absolutely learn that Robert Strand’s death was really accidental, will you back off?’

  Again Louie and Sadie confer wordlessly with their eyes. They both nod.

  Louie, ‘Yes, we would abide by your findings.’

  Sadie says eagerly, ‘Then you’ll stay?’

  Sophie is about to say yes; I beat her to it. ‘We have to think about it. That’s the best we can give you.’

  Sadie hugs Bella. ‘Thank you for your help with Papa.’ They are both in tears.

  I walk to my car door; take my keys out. ‘Come on, girls, get in.’ Quick, fast before the Wassingers give us more lawyer-speak for another hour.

  We say our goodbyes and I drive off seeing the Wassingers in my rear-view mirror, waving and smiling at us.

  Bella and Sophie share a cry fest in the back seat. Evvie won’t join them. She stares directly ahead, after a quick wink at me. I will not discuss anything about this case right now. The ghost says we’re fired.

  The hosts give us a reprieve.

  I need a Tylenol. Evvie will want a martini.

  I’ll count to three and the subject of food will come up. One … two …

  ‘Where should we eat?’ a voice rises from the back seat.

  ‘I’m thinking fish and chips,’ this from the other voice.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Now Playing: Hy, Dolly-Ann, Manny Story

  Three agitated people are locked in fierce verbal combat. That is, they are two vs one. They sit in the beat-up, old-style 1950s vintage model Airstream RV, set in a mobile-home park in a low-rent neighborhood of Miami.

  An RV, in which the owner, Manny Bloom, has never thrown anything away in the twenty years he’s lived here. Pack-rat, as a description, barely touches the level of his crowded junk. Sharing this tight living space are objects like a rusted old tool kit, a lug wrench, an old auto tire, a box of odds and ends containing objects like metal coils, bungee cords and a broken mousetrap, plus an outboard motor leaning against what would ordinarily be the driver’s seat.

  One can hardly peer out of the grimy, dirty windows in the entire RV.

  Hy Binder is trying hard at playing tough. Difficult to pull off, since he’d rushed away from Lanai Gardens to his ex-girlfriend’s side wearing a grey suit and tie and highly-polished black Oxfords. An outfit that was his most expensive in his closet. He had no idea what he’d be facing, but for this lady, he wanted to dress nicely. In this dump of a trailer he feels stupid and at a disadvantage being over-dressed.

  ‘Manny, Dolly-Ann is worried about you.’ Hy addresses the angry old codger, formerly from their old neighborhood, which at that time was the tough meatpacking, smelly, north-west side of New York City.

  Manuel Bloom has bad teeth, and grizzled gray hair; a guy in his late seventies, who looks older. He wears a torn Yankees sweatshirt, paint-covered overalls, rubber boots and a rigid grimace. His hands and teeth are clenched. Hy is pleased to see his homely, old, arch-enemy has not aged well.

  Hy is seated on a worn, plastic, padded bench next to Manny’s sister, Dolly-Ann Bloom. She is wearing what she refers to as a dirndl skirt and a peasant cotton blouse with a lace ruffled neck. She always looked so lady-like to him.

  Divorced recently (she informed Hy), she has reverted back to her maiden name. She may be in her late sixties, but Hy still sees her as she looked when she was his girlfriend, when last he saw her on that fateful prom night in high school so many eons ago. In his eyes, though the blond curls may be gray, with freckles now turned into wrinkles and the early curves thickened, the adorable dimple in her chin is still there. To him she hasn’t changed at all and is still a hot babe. At this moment, she is an anxious hot babe.

  She is having trouble with a stubborn brother who is determined to self-destruct.

  ‘Manny, please listen to Hy.’

  ‘I’ve been listening to him jabber since he got here. Who is he to tell me anything? What’s he doing here anyway? Sniffing at a divorced babe? Don’t he have a place to call home?’

  Hy and Dolly-Ann exchange guilty looks.

  With an angry pointing of his hand, Manny gripes, ‘And you, my faithless sibling; if you mention retirement home to me one more time, I’m gonna spit blood!’

  ‘Brother, please be reasonable. You can’t continue on like this.’ She waves her hands, pointing, encompassing his trailer. ‘You live in chaos; how can you stand it?’

  Hy adds, taking, his clue from Dolly-Ann, ‘You don’t have to live this way. You have choices.’

  Dolly-Ann pleads. ‘Stubborn fool. At least go and visit some places …’

  He interrupts, by putting his hand over her mouth. ‘Not another word!’

  Hy makes a gesture towards Manny. Manny turns and pretend
s to shadow box him. ‘Why should I listen to you? Who are you? I remember you when, Hy Binder, you were that pathetic boy from our old street, wearing his stupid heart on his sleeve. That chubby loser, that’s who.’

  Hy has never forgotten how badly Dolly-Ann’s older brother treated him when they were growing up. Her brother saw him in the same negative way he saw himself in those younger days. Always the shortest one in the class; with acne, dandruff and belly fat and totally insecure. With a father who abandoned them and a mother who spent her days drinking and worrying about money, everyone in the Binder family was a loser.

  He couldn’t believe his luck, when a perfect dream girl like Dolly-Ann was nice to him, when no one else was. Her sweetness was the only thing keeping him from suicide. Not that he would ever kill himself; but he read a lot of poets who achingly, willingly died for love. He understood their pain; he had plenty of his own.

  Manny used to beat him up whenever he saw him anywhere near Dolly-Ann. Big and bulky for his age, he was able to keep a lot of boys away from his popular sister. But most of all, Hy, whom he couldn’t stand.

  For Hy, it was the childhood from hell. Hy clutches his gut remembering Manny’s sing-song, ‘Hy, Hy, I made you cry, go away or you will die,’ as Manny punched him. If he had to admit it, he was still afraid of her brother.

  ‘Manny, you are so stubborn!’ Dolly-Ann keeps trying.

  ‘And you are annoying me. Why don’t you go back to New York where you belong! I never asked you to come down here. My nosy neighbors had no right to call you.’

  ‘They were worried about you.’

  ‘Bullshoes. All they worry about is running out of beer and getting to Walmart’s before closing.’

  ‘I don’t think they sell beer at Walmart.’

  ‘Wherever. Whatever.’

  He looks at Hy, then with a smirk, ‘This is your Superman, the hero you brought here to save your brother, who doesn’t need saving? To me he’s still the same dumb shmuck.’

  Hy is furious. Not the same, oh, no, not a loser anymore. He is a winner, Hy Binder, as he has become over the years, a successful businessman. A confident man. A loyal man. And immediately he guiltily thinks of his wife, Lola, who has been his rock and helpmate through all those years.

  Yes, Hy thinks, he could knock his socks off today, Manny, that creep. Easily, in the poor physical condition he’s in. But he has to keep his temper in check; not wanting to upset Dolly-Ann.

  Manny pulls himself up off of the other end of the ratty, duct-taped bench, climbs over the boxes of junk in his way, and opens up the creaking door. Pointing to both of them. ‘Leave. It’s time for my cocktail hour. Get back to your own digs. Or better yet, get the hell out of Dodge!’

  Dolly-Ann sighs, a long, drawn-out murmur of sadness, as she shrugs and heads out. Hy follows after her. Each of them tiptoe through the trailer’s disorderly path of Manny’s mountain of useless possessions; being careful not to trip.

  When outside, they walk without speaking, the few steps that brings them to another mobile home two doors down. Curious neighbors peer through curtains and watch their progress. A few look sullen and annoyed. Hy senses that these people are exasperated by Manny’s behavior. Not a good situation and Hy, who has come to help Dolly-Ann, feels powerless.

  They enter her recently rented, furnished RV, clutterless but probably just as old and moldy. It was the only nearby place Dolly-Ann was able to obtain part-time when she came down to Florida.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ she asks Hy.

  He nods. ‘If you’re having, I’ll drink, too.’

  She fills the kettle, and then turns to him in tears. ‘The stubborn old coot! Ever since Sally died, he’s been going crazy. When his wife was still alive, things were orderly. Look at the pigpen he lives in. It’s disgusting.’

  She faces him, fighting tears. ‘I never should have called you, and dragged you into my problems, but I was so desperate. I didn’t think I could handle it by myself.’

  Hy reaches out and pats her hand. He doesn’t dare to do much else. If Lola knew where he was, she’d murder him. In-between feeling terror about how he will explain things when he gets home; and secret joy, filled with the pleasure of once again seeing his first and only great love, Dolly-Ann Bloom. He’s an emotional mess.

  This is the girl he was meant to take to the senior prom. With an engagement ring in his rented tuxedo pocket, which had cost him a year of his saved earnings from mowing lawns and running errands. And the excited expectation of asking for her dainty hand in marriage that night. A girl who then broke his heart and went to the prom instead with Johnny O’Toole, the football hero. What a cliché! Dumped at the last minute for that jerk, just because he was an athlete, and Big-Man-On-Campus. And because it was guaranteed that she’d be crowned prom queen, dancing the magical night away on his muscular arms.

  And then, it went from bad to worse; they went and eloped the next week. Hy’s thoughts sink blacker and blacker. It was known that they got married because she let Johnny … sleep with her on prom night. He won’t use the dirty word he was thinking. The pictures in his head make him feel ill.

  As if she were reading his mind, Dolly-Ann says, ‘I never should have married that dumb cluck. He was so full of his famous self; he had no room for me.’

  She doesn’t say the next words but both are thinking them. She should have married sweet, kind Hy, who adored her. Hy, who then married plain Lola Epstein, on the rebound. Gave her the ring he’d bought for another girl. And never forgot the girl who got away.

  That girl, that woman he is facing this very minute. Who called him four days ago, saying she was in trouble. She needed his help, and because he promised to help, it gave her the courage to come down to Florida.

  Without thinking of what it might cost him, Hy, after showering and changing his clothes, immediately leapt into his car when she called him to let him know she’d arrived. Driving as fast as he could toward his destiny.

  Dolly-Ann breaks into his reverie. ‘Are you positive you hid your car where he won’t find it?’

  ‘I did it the best I could. I parked it behind a billboard. When will you be able to get yours out of the shop?’

  ‘The mechanics weren’t sure. They never had to deal with a gas tank filled with sugar before. My crazy brother’s handiwork.’

  Hy manages a smile. ‘I gotta hand it to him. Your brother is resourceful. He firmly believed you would follow him so had to put your car out of action.’

  ‘Yeah, he still has a mind like a steel trap. At least we have your car.’

  ‘That’s if we can stay awake tonight. When does he take off?’

  ‘When he’s knows I’m asleep.’

  ‘How does he know that?’

  She shrugs. ‘Maybe he looks through the window. The curtains in this dump don’t completely close. Or maybe he just guesses and takes off way late at night.’

  ‘That’s what we’ll do. We’ll take turns sleeping. Then catch him when he leaves.’ Hy is satisfied with his plan.

  Hy sips at his tea. He continues to wait for her to talk about what Manny is up to when he disappears each night. The first night he was there, and after they discovered her car was disabled and too late to use Hy’s, he expected her to tell him. He knew only that Manny did this kind of thing practically nightly and that she wanted to find out where he was going.

  And he came home the next morning, whistling. Telling her nothing.

  Which made her furious. Which then changed Manny’s mood radically. Arguments escalated.

  Hy had rushed to be at her side but she was sharing no information about these night vigils. Hy wondered and worried how long he dared stay.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ Dolly-Ann repeats again and again. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘I’m glad, too.’ He smiles at her. ‘Would you like to talk?’

  ‘What about?’

  He hasn’t seen this woman in thirty years and she says – w
hat about? ‘We could talk about Manny, and what he’s doing. Or talk about you or me. We have a lot of years to catch up on.’

  She sighs. ‘I have a terrible headache. Could we wait until tomorrow? I just need to rest.’

  ‘Anything you want. I’m here for you.’

  She said that last night as well and fell immediately to sleep. She has a lot of headaches. He feels … used.

  They stay dressed, with jackets close by for the cool night. And seat themselves in chairs; in order to not fall asleep.

  She reaches over and takes his hand and holds it. Oh boy, worries Hy. Manny is the least of his troubles. He wants to kiss this beautiful woman, so badly he can hardly bear it. It was hell sleeping on that sofa inches away from her bed last night. Aware she was just a caress away. How will he survive another night?

  His thoughts are like a gerbil running circles around his cage. He has never cheated on Lola. He would never cheat on Lola. But he wants to cheat on Lola. Lola will kill him if he cheats on her. Is it worth destroying his marriage? It will upset his ideal lifestyle. Is it worth dying for? Is it? He argues with himself; using it to keep awake.

  Hoisted with his own petard, he thinks sadly. He vaguely remembers that line came from Shakespeare; something about bombing yourself with your own bombs. Did they have bombs in Shakespeare’s time? What did they mean by bombs? Thinking these oddball thoughts until he falls asleep; in spite of himself.

  ‘Wake up, Dolly-Ann. It’s three a.m.,’ Hy whispers in her ear.

  She pulls herself out of dreamland, and sighs. ‘We fell asleep again.’

  Even though sitting up in chairs, their eyelids betrayed them. So much for their plan. They quickly throw on jackets and shoes.

  The lights are off in Manny’s trailer, but that doesn’t prove anything. They had to get to Hy’s car, where he left it.

  And sure enough, when they reach behind the billboard, Hy’s car is still there. But with four flat tires. Manny had escaped again. On his well-hidden bike. To wherever it is he goes.

  And they can’t follow him this night either.

  Discouraged, they return to Dolly-Ann’s trailer. Without making eye contact, they each go to their ‘bed’. She, to the single bed against the back wall and he, to the sofa that is way too close.