Getting Old Can Hurt You

by Rita Lakin

  ‘I was born in a jail cell with a bunch of cons watching.’

  ‘My mom couldn’t hold down a job, so she just sat in the car and drank anything she could get her hands on.’

  ‘Hah! That’s nothing. My mother and father robbed banks. When they were escaping from the cops, they ended up in a storm drain. My father drowned and my mother was caught. So I get to share my birth date with my father’s death.’

  I gasp. I can’t believe she’s revealing to Hy all the things she refused to tell us. And what about Hy? Telling her astonishing things we’ve never heard from him before.

  ‘Get this one.’ Hy, still at it, ‘I had to dress myself in the car, pee in the bushes, then go off to school without breakfast.’

  ‘I had to live with my grandparents from hell, because my other grandma abandoned us.’ Tori raises her finger and points at Ida. ‘And there she is.’

  I can see Ida next to me, thoroughly miserable.

  ‘Hey, kid, so why are you here?’ Hy asks, the man known around here as Mr Subtlety. Asking the question that was on all of our minds. Now we’ll find out.

  Tori is just about to answer him when Ida jumps up and screams at her. ‘Stop it! Stop it! I can’t take any more.’

  Tori halts all information, clams up, and we lose our chance to finally know!

  The girls and I hide our disappointment.

  Lola growls at Hy. He’s in big trouble now. I’d love to be a fly on their wall tonight.

  Ida races away from the pool.

  The Canadians are gossiping like mad.

  The show is over. Swim time is ended.

  PART SIX

  The Follow-Up

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Happy Anniversary

  The champagne is flowing; the soft-shell-crab appetizer happily being chewed. Evvie and Joe, Jack and yours truly are celebrating our double one-year wedding anniversary. The restaurant is one of these new, have-to-go-to boutique places. Important chef, unique and delicious food, tiny portions, high prices. But what the hey – we’ve snuck away from Lanai Gardens to celebrate privately. This evening, our many friends there are throwing a party for us, but this lunchtime event, we’re on our own.

  We are seated at an outdoor patio on spindly, uncomfortable wrought-iron seats and at a much-too-petite café table, but we don’t care. Everything else is perfect. We have each other; we have our health, and enough dough for a once-a-year expensive meal splash.

  The weather is ideal. Gussied up in fancy dress-up cocktail-hour clothes for the occasion. No shorts and tee shirts this afternoon.

  We reminisce about our dual wedding, which ended up with a wild chase after a psychotic killer.

  ‘There you were, waiting under the chuppah for your bride to stroll down the aisle, and your French tootsie traipsed down instead …’ says I.

  ‘Grrr, she was not my French tootsie,’ Jack says, giving my cheek a pretend pinch.

  Evvie laughs. ‘Well, she wanted to be your French tootsie.’

  ‘Beside the point! Your bride-to-be was almost killed.’ I jump in again.

  Joe adds to it. ‘What a sight, everyone at the wedding party leaping on top of that crazy guy, beating him with their canes! Not a foot soldier under seventy-five!’

  ‘And the rabbi didn’t know whether he should marry me to the wrong woman.’ Jack smirks.

  We are rolling with laughter about those mad moments; and suddenly Jack pokes me lightly, his voice turns serious. ‘Look, there, down at the corner. Everyone look! Quickly!’

  All eyes turn and peer. Evvie wants to know what we’re looking at.

  Jack points, ‘Isn’t that our Tori getting into a cab?’

  ‘I see her,’ I say. ‘It is definitely Tori.’

  By now, she’s climbed inside, and I can see her bending over to speak to the driver. I jump up. ‘Quick, let’s go!’

  We all leap out of our chairs. Jack throws down a fistful of money on the table. Joe adds to it and we dash for our car, which, luckily, is only steps away.

  ‘Don’t lose them, honey!’ I tell my husband. Jack drives, positioning himself three cars behind the back of the cab.

  Joe, leaning over the back seat, is baffled. ‘Why are we doing this? We didn’t even have our main course.’

  I answer. ‘Tori has been teasing all of us with her strange behavior toward Ida, ever since she arrived. We know she disappears every day, so we are now going to find out where she goes and what she’s up to.’

  Joe wonders, ‘Will the restaurant hold our lunch for us? I was really looking forward to the lobster thermidor.’

  Evvie reminds him. ‘That tiny portion of lobster.’ She kisses him gently on his cheek. ‘You always wanted to know what our PI biz is like. Now you get to watch it in action. We chase clues when we can get them. And today, we might find out something about the elusive Ms. Tori.’

  ‘Oh, all right, but couldn’t we have followed her on a day when we weren’t having lobster?’

  ‘Good point,’ Evvie agrees, smiling at him. ‘But, no.’

  ‘Got to follow when opportunity knocks.’ Jack, even though retired, still has that bloodhound quality of a good cop, sniffing at a good lead. He sharply turns left when the cab does. Then right again. Little by little the neighborhood is changing, from middle class to a street that has seen better times. The cab stops abruptly.

  ‘Catch the house number, hon,’ Jack says. ‘I’m going to drive past.’

  ‘Hon’ is right on the job, and the address is duly noted.

  When we go around the corner and come back again, we see the cab is still waiting and Tori is talking to a woman who has answered the door.

  Jack informs us, ‘We’ve got to keep going, suss out what you can.’

  I relate, ‘Woman is in her forties, wearing an apron, probably interfered with her lunch.’ I make a guess. ‘Seems like Tori doesn’t know her, nor does the woman know Tori.’

  Evvie adds, ‘She probably told the cabbie to wait, so this a quick stop. Looking for someone or trying to get info.’

  Jack drives around the block and back to the same street once again. This time he pulls into a space close by from where we can watch Tori. We wait until Tori says goodbye, the woman goes back inside and the cab drives away.

  ‘Ready?’ I say to Jack.

  ‘Hold on,’ my hubby says, with a straight face. ‘I’m not a registered member of Gladdy’s Girls.’ He folds his arms across his chest. ‘I’ll just stay here with Joe. Let you super-gals do your thing.’

  Evvie and I exchange glances. She nods.

  I say, ‘Well, I’ve just appointed you a member – at least for today. You’re the right one for the job.’

  Jack teases, ‘I don’t know.’ He pauses, dragging it out. ‘You always say no to mixing business with pleasure.’

  Oops, he’s throwing my words back at me. ‘Sometimes business goes along with pleasure.’

  Jack winks. ‘I’m happy with my job as boy-toy.’

  I hit him playfully on his shoulder. He pretends to pull away in pain.

  We all have a good laugh at that.

  ‘Ready?’ I say to him, brigadier general to lowly private.

  Evvie knows what we’re going to do, and explains to her baffled Joe that we hope to find out what information Tori wanted from the woman.

  Joe has his hand on the door handle, about to get out.

  Jack, now on board, explains to Joe, ‘We can’t all go, that would make the woman suspicious.’

  Evvie agrees. ‘Joe and I will stay here. You’ll do better, Jack, with your police ID card.’

  ‘Hey, we’re talking expired police ID card. It’s against the law for me to use it. You wanna get me arrested?’ He grins.

  Evvie makes a pretext of looking both ways. ‘Don’t see any cops around here, do you?’

  Jack answers with an eyebrow raise. ‘Some sister-in-law. You want me to break the law?’ Joe and I also pretend to look for the law to pounce on my dear, honest husband. We look b
oth ways. ‘All clear,’ Joe says, getting with it.

  Jack argues. ‘Besides, I was a cop in New York, never in Florida …’

  ‘What if it doesn’t work?’ worries Joe.

  I answer. ‘If all else fails, we can always tell the truth.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’ Then sly, ‘We go back to our lunch, after?’ Joe is tenacious about his meals. We ignore him.

  It’s been decided. Today he is Jack, the scofflaw. Game plan – husband and I will go play good-cop-bad-cop, or no cop at all. Whatever it takes. Our co-conspirators will remain in the car.

  Joe indicates his gurgling stomach to Evvie. ‘Still hungry …’ he sing-songs.

  She gives him a quick hug. ‘We can always snuggle,’ Evvie promises.

  Joe, pathetic now. ‘Aw shucks. I can still smell it. That mouth-watering, reeking of garlic …’

  ‘Shut up and kiss me.’

  We stroll up to the door, our faces a mask of business demeanor. I ask Jack, ‘Two questions. How do we not scare her off if she smells trouble? And how do we explain that, for cops, we’re so over-dressed?’

  ‘The first, just follow what I do. As for us being so gorgeously put together, I’ll tell her we come from a precinct full of rich people.’

  I laugh, then put on my game face.

  The same woman opens the door and, of course, notices how dressy we are.

  Jack flashes his lapsed identity card quickly, and introduces himself as the detective he once was. He passes me off as his assistant.

  She informs us she’s Mrs Marie Bonner. She’s curious. ‘Do you cops always dress this nicely?’

  Jack can’t resist. ‘We’re on our way to a stakeout at the Ritz Carlton in Miami Beach, but we needed to make this one stop.’

  I hide my amusement. He could charm an alligator out of its skin.

  ‘The girl, Gloria Steiner, just spoke to you.’

  Mrs Bonner nervously comments, ‘She said her name was Tori.’

  I pop up, inventing as I go. ‘That’s her code name. We need to know why she came to see you.’

  The woman frowns. ‘Is she a criminal? Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to her. Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you.’ She is worried about getting the girl in trouble.

  Smoothy Jack gives her an endearing smile, one that could calm the same alligator out for a kill. ‘No problem. She’s in a teenage high-school program trying out for the police academy and we’re her mentors, testing how well she did.’

  Jack, quick thinker that he is, continues on, inventing a story – Tori, police trainee. The woman should only know what a pain Tori, the trainee, is.

  The woman relaxes. ‘The girl was very polite. You should certainly give her good marks.’

  ‘So far, so good,’ I comment, getting with the program. ‘What exactly did she say to you?’

  The woman folds her arms and leans on her doorjamb, totally willing to help the young student. ‘She said she was looking for a couple named Woodley who lived in my house about fifteen years ago. Maybe they moved in as long ago as thirty years or so. She said it was very important to find them again. Something to do with an old unsolved crime.’

  She hesitates, so I fly in again. ‘Very good work on her part; that was her assignment.’

  Mrs Bonner continues. ‘I said she was in luck because we bought our home from the original owners. Did she mean Harvey and Lila Woodley? That was many years ago. And she said, yes, the very people she was looking for.

  ‘Well done,’ I say. ‘And do you have a forwarding address for the Woodleys?’

  Mrs Bonner shakes her head. ‘Sorry, I don’t. Then the girl thanked me and left.’ Mrs Bonner glances at us, looking eager. ‘How did young Tori do?’

  ‘One hundred percent,’ I assured her.

  We are just about to leave when she adds, ‘By the way, she did say something odd. Would you like to know what?’

  I shoot her a big smile. ‘Every little bit helps her score.’

  ‘She said, at least I think that’s what it was; she said Hah Hah and Lie Lie and then laughed out loud. Whatever does that mean?’

  ‘Sorry, we can’t tell you. Privileged information,’ I add.

  The woman nods her head, accepting this most private non-answer.

  So we all three shake hands and Mrs Marie Bonner, citizen do-gooder, I suppose returned happily back to her lunch. Meanwhile off we marched, looking very professional, on our way to our car.

  I whisper in my darling’s ear, ‘How did you become such a proficient liar?’

  ‘Practice, dearest, practice. And you were not so bad yourself.’

  I muse. ‘Hah Hah, Lie Lie. It’s a clue, but what on earth does it mean? I have to think about it and solve the puzzle. Tori, you little devil, you.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Reporting to Ida

  I am in Ida’s apartment soon after we return from our lunchtime adventure. I interrupt her frenzied vacuuming to catch her up. Housework is something she does to help her deal with her frustration with Tori. First I determine where the problematic houseguest is, in order that we not be interrupted.

  ‘Can you believe it? She’s with Hy, her new best friend.’ Ida says sarcastically, as she points to the rear-view window and I look out. Sure enough, Tori and Hy are seated on a bench below, seemingly in lively conversation.

  ‘Amazing,’ I say.

  ‘Ever since that day at the pool, they’ve been thick as thieves.’

  ‘I’ll talk fast in case their conversation ends, and she comes running upstairs.’

  Ida can’t get over our following Tori, and our chat with the housewife. ‘Trying to find the Woodleys? Ida once knew them. But that was maybe thirty years ago! How odd. Why would she be looking for them? How did she even know about them?’

  It gives her the courage suddenly, while Tori is still downstairs, to search for the photo in her granddaughter’s backpack. ‘I’ve got a hunch. Watch out the window and yell if she moves.’

  I play at guard dog as she rifles Tori’s backpack in her guest bedroom.

  She holds it aloft. There is the photo she hadn’t clearly seen yet. Stops to put on her glasses. ‘Oh, my goodness, it’s my daughter, Helen, on her wedding day to Fred, with Harvey and Lila Woodley, their closest friends. They were best man and maid of honor.’

  ‘Now that’s quite fascinating.’ She hands me the photo and I turn it over.

  Ida says, ‘That’s just scribbling. I couldn’t read it.’

  However, I can. ‘Ida, it says The Woodleys, Ft. Lauderdale.’

  ‘Oh, my God. I didn’t realize.’ Ida shoves the photo back where it belongs.

  We hurriedly return to the living room and sit down on the couch, drinking tea she made when I arrived, even though now it’s cold. But never mind, we are meant to be found chatting in innocent mode.

  We can infer that Tori has a reason to search for these two people, but Ida can’t imagine why. ‘They were Florida friends, but when the family moved to California, they lost track of them. Who knows if the Woodleys are still around in Fort Lauderdale, or are even alive.’

  I feel her out. ‘About time to confront Tori and ask her what she’s up to? Now that we know about the Woodleys.’ I don’t know if Tori is ready. Is Ida?

  She sounds unsure. ‘Maybe not here. Maybe if we take her out somewhere and get her alone.’

  The door opens and Tori bounces in. A smile on her face.

  ‘We were just talking about you,’ I say.

  Ida gulps. Turns pale.

  ‘Yeah? What about?’ Tori asks with no interest whatsoever.

  I am getting used to thinking fast on my feet these days. ‘I’m kind of curious. What were you and Hy gabbing about?’ That’s all I could come up with. I doubt she will answer.

  She brightens at this. ‘He’s teaching me how to handicap horses. I love the racetrack language. So colorful. Trifecta, allowance, paramutual, claiming, break, maiden, payouts. It goes on and on. A whole new world.’

  Nice to see the s
eemingly cheerful child underneath the anger. ‘I remember some of those terms,’ I say. ‘My dad would have plunked a cot down and slept at Hialeah, if they’d let him. He loved the track.’

  ‘Hy is going to take me out there one of these days.’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ I encourage. ‘However, you might consider shopping for an outfit for yourself.’

  Ida releases her breath finally.

  ‘No thanks,’ says Tori.

  I expect that. ‘Well, you ought to know, they don’t allow jeans, tee shirts, shorts or flip-flops at the racetrack. They’ve a pretty strict dress code.’ I don’t mention that these rules only apply to the fancy upper-level Turf Club. Sneaky me.

  Lucky she’s in a good mood after her talk with Hy. She looks down at herself in her typical denims and tank tops. ‘Okay, we shop.’

  ‘Great, let’s all go to Sawgrass Mall on Friday,’ I say, nailing it down.

  ‘Whatever.’

  Ida’s color comes back in her cheeks.

  Tori reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folder. ‘He gave me one of his old racetrack programs. They list every horse in every race and what the odds are. I’m going to study them and learn every other phrase.’

  Time out from searching for the Woodleys? I get up and start for the door so I can leave before she changes her mind.

  ‘We can even have lunch together,’ Ida manages to say, trying for brightly.

  But the minute her grandmother speaks, the light goes off and Tori returns to sullen girl again. She shoves the program back into her pocket and heads for her bedroom.

  I open the front door and say to Ida in a whisper, ‘Make sure she sticks to our Friday date to go shopping.’

  On my way downstairs, it’s my turn to laugh. I’ve figured it out. Hah Hah – Harvey, and Lie Lie – Lila. Harvey and Lila Woodley. Gothcha, Secret Agent Tori.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Tuesday with Izzy

  The girls finally have it their way. We are stationed in their favorite dollar store across from the vacant lot below Izzy’s house, next door to the last un-hit Starbucks. Sophie and Bella are ecstatically busy shopping, while Evvie and Ida are with me at the front of the store thanks to the cooperation of the manager. We are watching his every move with our binoculars. It is Tuesday, one p.m. We didn’t use a gypsy, but we went through Morrie’s list of dates and hit times and Tuesday jumped out at us.