Getting Old Can Hurt You

by Rita Lakin

  Hy raises his hand. Then drops it. ‘Sorry. That name sounds familiar to me.’ He shakes his head. ‘But I don’t know why.’ Lola pats her hubby on his back. ‘You’ll remember soon, sweetness, you always do.’

  Evvie speaks. ‘Remember when she said she met these three guys, she called them Hickory, Dickory, Doc? It was a play on their names.’

  Sophie giggles. ‘She called one of them a dick.’

  Bella looks confused. She doesn’t know why that’s funny.

  Evvie says, ‘But I heard that name as Dicks. And why does that name sound familiar?’

  Evvie and Hy exchange frustrated glances. Their memory is not functioning today. It’s always the nouns that get forgotten in later age. They remember Gladdy used to say that all the time – the nouns are the first to go.

  Jack says, ‘I am going to get in touch with Tori’s sisters. I hope they’ll know something. Ida, I need their names and if you know how to reach them.’

  Ida is miserable. ‘The girls are married. I don’t know their married names.’ She hides her head in shame; how can she not know anything about her other grandchildren? Or even her great-grandchildren?

  ‘That’s why we have Morrie, here.’

  Morrie nods. ‘I’m available 24/7. Call and tell me or Jack anything you remember. Any info. Names. City. Streets. I’ll be able to track them down.’

  Jack stands up. ‘Okay, go on home, but everybody think hard. You might know something you don’t realize is important. Even if it sounds silly, tell us anyway.’

  As they pile out, they each stop to say kind words to Jack.

  Evvie is the last to leave. Sister and brother-in-law hug.

  ‘We’ll find her, Ev,’ Jack promises.

  ‘I know we will.’

  They both know the words are kind, but meaningless.

  When Jack is alone, he sits down, head in his hands. Now he allows himself to show how tense and worried he really feels.

  Gladdy, where are you?

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Tough Guys

  It isn’t too long until the guys come back into the shed. Dockson and Hicks bring snacks and drinks which they place beside Gladdy and Tori, still seated on the floor. Dix glares at them.

  Tori pushes the food away. ‘Thanks for nothing, you dummies.’

  I sigh. That brave girl doesn’t know how to keep her emotions to herself.

  The leader, Dix, turns to me. ‘Tell your granddaughter to keep her trap shut.’

  Tori almost forgets. ‘She’s not …’ then stops herself.

  Dix is interested. ‘Finish your sentence. Your grandmother, what? What does she not …?’

  Tori straightens up, looks at me. ‘You’re wasting your time. Grandma does not know anything about anything. I told you that a million times!’

  I nod at her. Good girl, she remembered.

  ‘Okay, let’s get down to it again and again. Where’s Daddy?’

  ‘You can ask me till you’re blue in the face, I don’t know. I didn’t know in LA or New Mexico, and I still don’t know. I’ve been trying to find him, but with no luck.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He turns to me. ‘Come on, Grandma, surely your son-in-law would have contacted you if he lived here. You would have cried together about his poor wifey, still in the pokey.’

  I put on a counterfeit pathetic face and sniveling voice. ‘Don’t I wish he had, but he hated me. I was the one who turned him in to the cops.’ I wipe away fake tears, and phony sadness. Playing the distraught grandma, I play falsely eager. ‘Do you really think he’s here? That darling boy, oh how I’ve missed him. If you find Freddy, tell him I’m so sorry.’

  It works. Dix now thinks I’m stupid and useless. The irony is not lost on me. I’ve been imitating Ida.

  Tori pleads. ‘Listen to me. I know I’m on a wild-goose chase. My dad’s dead, my mom’s in prison. My other grandparents just died. I have nobody. I came here because I’m going to live with my dear Florida Grandmother Ida …’ And here she gives me a clumsy attempt at a hug.

  Dix grins. ‘Nice try, babe. Your sister, Shirley, told me you hate this grandmother.’

  ‘That big mouth …’ Tori is back to being foolish again. ‘You can beat me up, or break my bones. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.’

  ‘Now, sugar plum, I don’t need to hurt your sweet little bod. Your mama in prison is only a text message away from any guard in there. I give orders and,’ he makes a throat-slashing gesture, ‘bye-bye Mama.’

  Tori leaps up and tries to jump on him, screaming, fists thrusting hopelessly. Dix grabs her easily. It amuses him.

  I have to do something to stop this. ‘Excuse me! Excuse me,’ I say in a most pitiable way. ‘Is it possible to take me to the nearest bathroom? It has been a number of hours since you brought us here and the bladder …’ I shrug, helplessly.

  Dix pushes Tori away. He is annoyed. He indicates one of the men. ‘Hicks, take the old broad inside. But secure her first.’

  Tori hides a smile and I make a show of creaking my ‘old body’ up off of the sleeping bag. The guy to whom I’ve been appointed rushes over to help the doddering old lady. Good, this one’s the weakest in the link. Hickory, Dickory, Doc. The names start clicking in. Hicks, Dix. The other one, something like Docks. I remember.

  Hicks gently applies the blindfold and duct tape, takes my arm and walks me out the back door.

  Yes, it’s definitely a garage. The smell of gasoline is even worse now. I peek through the bottom of the loosely tied blindfold and notice the SUV is gone and another car is in its place. Some old-fashioned looking car. Not good news. Jack and Morrie will be looking for an SUV.

  Outside, I take a deep breath. The air feels so good after the stuffiness of the shed. I was right. There is a garden of flower pots, and now I recognize the plant and its odor. It’s lavender that I smell. Sweet, beautiful lavender. I’m getting excited. I know I’ve been here. Bless Izzy’s heart. Lavender planted among the yucca. I peek under my blindfold. Garage with attached metal shed. Garden at the back of the house. Can it be? Omigod …! In the house, I’m brought to a bathroom. The nice guy, Hicks, takes my blindfold off, but just so I can see my way around in the bathroom. I have been in this bathroom.

  And I now definitely know where I am. How is this possible? We are in Izzy’s house. And of course Izzy isn’t home. I know where he is. And then I recall, my jailbird’s full name is Isadore Dix. The gang leader must be his son. What was it? Chaz. Izzy mentioned his son, Chaz, when we looked at his photo on the piano. Does Chaz know his father is in jail only a few blocks away?

  I search the room quickly for something I can use as a weapon, but they’ve cleared everything out except one towel. Damn. I wish I could smash the glass of the little medicine cabinet above the sink, for a shard or two. But nothing to do it with, and besides, where would I hide the glass?

  ‘Are you ready to come out?’ calls Hicks. I say yes, and he opens the door and he gently puts the blindfold on again. Oh, Jack, if I only had a way to reach you!

  PART EIGHT

  The Rescue

  THIRTY-NINE

  Jack and Morrie on the Job

  It’s after midnight. Father and son are at Jack’s dining-room table, surrounded by city maps and drinking coffee to stay awake. Not that the coffee is working; their eyes are bleary. Their bodies ache. But they continue on. The map has been circled to where Jack had pointed out to Morrie the house the Woodleys once lived in.

  ‘Let’s sum up what we know,’ Morrie suggests.

  ‘Good idea,’ says exhausted Jack.

  Morrie says, ‘Okay, we know about the original case in California. This was the fifteen-years-ago bank heist pulled by Fred and Helen Steiner. Police records showed that they’d arrested Helen – nine months pregnant. Fred was presumed dead. Witnesses in the bank attested that there were three others in on the robbery; none of the other three were caught and Helen Steiner refused to name names.’

  Jack comments,
‘They had undoubtedly threatened her to keep quiet; they’d take it out on her children and grandchildren. She knew how dangerous Dix was.’

  Morrie adds, ‘We learned from the La Mesa police that a cleaning woman at a local motel found three guys tied up in ropes, their mouths covered by duct tape. Then, feeling sorry for them, thinking they were staying at the motel and had been robbed, she released them. To her surprise, they ran from the room and disappeared. Too bad the woman hadn’t called the police while they were still trussed up. When the police were finally summoned by the manager, he and the police questioned all residents and no one owned the SUV with the slashed tires. The three men had been found in a room registered to Gloria Steiner. These men were not registered at the motel.’

  Morrie continues. ‘Too bad the police didn’t break into the car at that time. We’d have their identities. They sent a truck to tow it, but by that time the SUV was also gone.’

  Jack reads his notes from his conversation with Tori’s two older sisters in LA.

  ‘I guess I can say this older one is the brighter sister. The first one, Shirley, just kept moaning and hiccupping.

  ‘Sister Marilyn told me an interesting story – that they had visited Tori’s mother in prison and that’s when Helen told Tori her father was still alive and she should go and find him. Mom slipped that photo of the Woodleys to her then and there.

  ‘Remembering that Tori early on had playfully mentioned meeting three guys in La Mesa who drove a black SUV. Funny names for their tats – Hickory, Dickory and Docks. She joked about the “Dickory” as Dix. An unusual name. So, thinking that these might be the guys from LA, I asked Marilyn if she knew anyone with the name Dix, and Marilyn was surprised. There’s a Charles Dix who is one of her mother’s guards. Marilyn was shocked when I told her that a man named Dix came after Tori, believing the story and demanding that she reveal where her father is. Marilyn thinks about it and remembers that Dix was standing at the prison exit and must have heard Tori telling her sister about her father still being alive. But why would he have anything to do with Tori and her father?’

  ‘You told her, Tori’s been kidnapped?’ Jack asks.

  ‘It terrified her. She couldn’t understand why any of this was happening. Marilyn continued to insist the story wasn’t true. She was sure that her mother was mentally ill and this was all a fantasy. Their father was dead and buried; she had been to his funeral. To calm her, I promised her sister we’d call when Tori was found.’

  Jack surmises, ‘Could it be the same Dix, the prison guard, and his two pals in La Mesa? Can we assume they are the three other unnamed bank robbers?’

  Morrie’s eyes light up. ‘I would. And we just arrested our coffee shop thief, Isadore Dix. A coincidence?’

  Jack smiles. ‘And we don’t believe in coincidences.’

  Morrie is on his laptop immediately. Jack watches his fingers fly across the letters. Morrie grins. ‘No coincidence. Charles Dix, born 1972 in Davie, Florida. Father Isadore Dix, mother Eleanor Dix, deceased. How about that? Lived practically right next door to us.’

  Jack whistles. ‘Well, wadda ya know.’

  Morrie says, ‘We know a lot. We have a match. We’re getting close.

  Jack says, ‘Tori couldn’t have tackled those men alone. Must have been helped by the young men in the bus she mentioned.’

  ‘Gutsy girl, Miss Tori. We now can assume she came here to find the Woodleys, who she was sure could lead her to her father. And those men want Daddy as well.’

  ‘Well, the time has come. I think a visit to Isadore aka Izzy is in order. Dear old dad might aid us in finding his son.’ He yawns. ‘Mañana.’

  Jack walks him to the door. Morrie suggests his dad get some sleep.

  As if he could rest until he found his Gladdy.

  FORTY

  Bedtime Stories

  Midnight in the shed. The heat beat heavily down on us during the day, but now the metal has cooled down and Tori is shivering. The shed is creepy without any light; yet it isn’t totally black and there is some ambient light from cracks in the metal ceiling. Enough so we can see one another, but barely.

  Most of the tacos that was purported to be our dinner are half-eaten. Cold and tasteless, they lie in their original wrapping from some nearby Mexican take-out, along with the water bottles we consumed. Our captors gave us a last bathroom break along with a threat that we’d better come up with answers in the morning, and now we are attempting to sleep.

  I told Tori earlier that I knew where we were; that we are hidden at the home of Dix’s father. This is good news. She jumps up, excited. ‘Then his dad will call the cops.’

  I had to let her down. ‘His dad is in jail.’ I didn’t bother to tell her, I helped put him there.

  ‘Dead end,’ she said, unhappily.

  ‘But it means we’re close by. It gives me hope.’

  She doesn’t bother to answer.

  Hicks, bless his heart, is our only helper. He is clearly not happy with being a kidnapper. At ‘dinnertime’ he slipped me his tiny pocket key-chain flashlight and I am grateful.

  I am tired enough to sleep. I used to pride myself on being able to sleep anywhere, anytime, but how can I with Tori thrashing around in her sleeping bag?

  I sit up.

  ‘Wanna play a game?’

  Tori pulls herself up, and stares at me as if I were something demented.

  ‘Let’s pretend we are camping out.’

  Cranky Tori sneers. ‘You gotta be kidding.’

  ‘Humor me. You have something better to do? Have a late date with someone? The cute one in New Mexico?’

  She manages to crack a smile. ‘I wish. Okay, cray lady, I’ll play along.’

  ‘We are on a beautiful finely grained sandy beach on our own private island and we have a bonfire blazing. Can you hear mandolins playing in the background?’

  ‘Yeah sure. Mandolins on a private island.’ Tori twists her body into a more comfortable position, still looking at me as if I’d just escaped the looney bin.

  I wave Hick’s tiny flashlight beam up onto her face. ‘See the flames?’

  ‘Anyone ever tell you, you’re nutso?’

  ‘No. Not lately. Okay, ready for our marshmallows?’

  ‘Whatever, weird lady.’

  I hand the flashlight over to Tori. I pretend I am holding a stick and I place an imaginary marshmallow on the imaginary stick, making sure it will stay on. ‘How burnt do you like yours?’

  I get a silly grin. ‘Totally burned. Until the outside is black and the inside mush.’

  ‘Got it.’ I pretend to cook ‘it’ over the ‘fire’, then hand her the imaginary stick. Tori takes it and pretends along with me. Soon she is ‘eating’ her marshmallow and seems like she’s enjoying it.

  ‘Yum,’ she says. ‘Delicious, now what?’ Her tone is still one of humoring me.

  ‘Now we talk. Game of Truth. What’s on your mind, Tori who used to be Gloria, that stops you from falling asleep?’

  For a moment, she glares at me, then she bursts into tears. ‘It’s none of your business!’

  I say nothing and wait. I don’t want to break up her speech. She is ready to blow.

  ‘I hate my life! I hate everybody! I hate myself! I look in a mirror every day and I wish I was anyone else but me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m ashamed of how I treat my grandma. I hate that I made her cry. But I hate that she abandoned us and left me with a mother she helped put in prison and being raised by two mean other grandparents. She robbed me of a happy childhood.’

  ‘You have a right to be angry.’

  Tori stares at me, surprised. I’m sure she expected me not to take her side. ‘Your turn. What kind of childhood did you have?’

  I think of what to say. ‘I had immigrant parents, and they only spoke Polish, and kids in school made fun of me because I spoke very little English and had a funny accent.’

  ‘What did you do? Did you beat them up?’

>   I laugh. ‘Not my generation. I just ignored them and they stopped. I worked very hard on learning how to sound like everyone else and also to avoid toxic kids. But I was angry at my parents. I wanted an “American mom and dad”, like the others had. Years later I understood how it had been for them. Think about it – forced to leave your home that you love, for fear of being killed. Imagine how frightening it had to be, traveling thousands of miles away, to a strange land where you don’t know the language, with little or no money, not knowing what lies ahead. Later, I finally grew up and realized how brave they were.’

  ‘Grandma and Grandpa Steiner spoke with thick German accents.’

  ‘Did you ever ask them about their childhood and how they came to this country?’

  ‘No, never. I only thought about myself.’ She lowers her head, feeling guilty.

  ‘It sounds like they were disappointed. Maybe they had a fantasy about how wonderful things would be in the new country. Maybe they were unhappy in themselves or the life they led.’

  ‘And maybe they were unhappy that they were stuck with a brat like me.’

  ‘Could be. Really a mean and rotten brat like you?’ I’m teasing her.

  Tori nods, grins. ‘The worst.’ And I smile with her. ‘I never thought about it. Grandma Ida had gone, Mom in prison, Dad thought to be dead. My sisters were much older and had no patience for me. I guess there was no one to turn to.’

  ‘The Steiners might have said no – but they didn’t. They willingly agreed to raise you.’

  She’s giggling now. ‘And boy, were they sorry.’

  ‘They probably did the best they could.’

  ‘I suppose … but they could have tried harder. And I could have tried to understand.’

  ‘They had an only son who robbed a bank and had run away and was thought to be dead. That had to be hard on them.’

  Some silence, then, Tori stretches. ‘I think I can sleep now.’ She frowns. ‘But I can’t. I always go to bed with a book and read till my eyes close. No book here.’ She lies down again, and twists and turns.