The Amazing Adventures of Gramma

by Holly Vellekoop

  “I just saw two men coming out of my room. They went up that staircase there.”

  “No one’s supposed to be inside this building. Not even you. Wait right here.” The fireman went to the stairs and yelled up. “If there’s anyone up there, get down here now. This hotel is supposed to be cleared.” He spoke into his walkie talkie to inform coworkers on the upper levels that two men were seen going up to the third floor. He gave them a brief description from what Gramma had told him.

  Meanwhile, taking advantage of the man’s distraction, Gramma reached for the doorknob of her room. Finding it cool to the touch, she opened it and went in.

  The fireman noticed her movements and followed behind.

  The room was without smoke. Everything in there was strewn about. Mattresses, clothing, dresser drawers, towels, and bedding lay in dribs and drabs, here and there. All of it was soggy from the sprinklers.

  Gramma and Lola were victims of a burglar room-toss.

  “Holy mackerel,” Gramma said. “Where are my boots?” She searched the floor and grinned when she found them. She sat down and removed her soggy slippers. She dried her feet and put the boots on.

  “What’s this about? Who are you?” the fireman asked. He held tight to the axe he was carrying.

  “I’m just a gramma tourist, that’s who.” She looked at his footwear. “Your work boots are substandard. I’ll send you a card where you can get some like these, what the pros wear.” She held up one of her feet so he could have the pleasure of seeing her great boots. She touched the envelope inside her bathrobe to ensure it was safe.

  He looked at his boots, then down at hers, and frowned. Stepping forward to get a closer look at her, he stepped on Gramma’s bunny slippers.

  “Hey. Get off my bunnies, Bro,” Gramma yelled.

  The fireman jumped back and apologized.

  “How can I get out of here?” Gramma questioned.

  The fireman escorted her to a window. He attempted to help the elderly woman get up and onto a portable inflatable slide that had been brought to the opening.

  “Are you sure you can manage this?” he asked. “I mean, well, you know . . .”

  Gramma bolted up and onto the fire retardant nylon slide, crossed her arms over her chest and slid handily down to the ground, black boots first. It was a smooth, swift ride. At the bottom, she stood up with a flourish.

  The fireman shook his head in amazement.

  Her granddaughter greeted her.

  “Gramma,” Lola screamed. “How’d you do that?”

  “It was nothing.”

  ‘Whattya’ mean ‘It was nothing?’ You ran into a building on fire then ended up sliding down that thing to get out!”

  “Piffle. It beats jumping out of the building and onto a life net. You can bounce right off it and hit the ground. Those things are dangerous. I remember one time when I was in Cairo . . . never mind. Enough of that. Oh, and the building’s not on fire.” She looked up at their hotel room window. “When I was up there, I saw two men coming out of our room. They ran off. When I looked inside our room, I saw everything had been tossed around. Bedding. Dresser drawers. Even our beds. Vandals! They’re lucky they didn’t steal my boots. I’d have been really ticked. They’d better hope I don’t see them again. Oh, and did I say the building’s not on fire? It was a false alarm.”

  Firemen came out of the hotel.

  “Attention everyone,” loudspeakers blared. “False alarm. We repeat, false alarm. Stay right where you are. There’s no fire in the hotel. As soon as we’ve cleared the area of our equipment, you will be permitted back inside the building. Wait for the all-clear from us before entering.”

  “I sure wish I had my Mini Bus here,” Gramma said. “I’d drive us to get something to eat. I’m hungry for a piece of pie. Warmed. With ice cream.”

  Chapter 7

  The Ecuadorian Dumpster

  “Listen Red, we’ve tried getting the file from that crazy Gramma and can’t seem to make it happen.” Fernando fidgeted. He looked down at his patent leather shoes.

  “Please explain to me how a senior granny continues to outwit you guys. Huh? How does that happen. Tell me. I’m listening. Come on. And how do you think it makes us look? How does that make you look? My God, she runs circles around all of you.” Red stepped closer to Fernando. “She is a feisty one, isn’t she? Kinda’ cute in her own way.” He grinned broadly.

  “I don’t know, dog. Yes, she’s feisty. She’s not like a typical senior citizen,” Fernando said. “She’s not like anyone’s grandmother, either. And she’s lucky. Yeah. That’s it. She’s lucky. Things just happen that help her.” He pointed and gestured for effect. “She gets all the breaks. Lucky stars or something. That explains it. It has nothing to do with me, dog.” He struck a cocky pose.

  “Listen to yourself,” Red said. “You’re whining. A grandmother has you whining and complaining, making excuses and cringing. And stop calling me dog. Where’d you pick that up?”

  “Just something I heard a lot in the US.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  “Okay. Poppy Gold told us Gramma was a pushover. That we’d be able to handle her without too much trouble,” Fernando said. “Either Gramma got better at what she does or Poppy was blowing smoke our way.”

  “We’ll be bringing Poppy on board soon, when she’s out of jail. I’m counting on her neutralizing Gramma. Although I hate to see anything serious happen to Gramma since she is attractive in her own way . . .”

  Fernando couldn’t believe what he was hearing and said so.

  “Never mind about that now. Listen to me. Gramma and her granddaughter are gonna be in Quito one more night and then they’ll be gone. You either get that info from her tonight or we’ll have to pick this back up when she returns to the USA. And that’s if she doesn’t pass it off before then. Ay, ay, ay. What to do with you? Now that’s the real question.”

  “I’ll get it tonight. You’ll see. She’ll be sorry she messed with Fernando.” He puffed out his chest.

  Red rolled his eyes. He reconsidered whether he should give this assignment to Fernando again. He also reconsidered Gramma. She is kinda’ cute. Really. Yeah, she is.

  In Gramma’s hotel room

  “Since this is our last evening in Ecuador, Lola, Let’s go to dinner at La Cohina.”

  “That sounds marvelous, Gramma. I’d love to eat there. When you told me about it, I searched it on the internet. The place sounds great. It overlooks the city on a cliff. The walls are all glass so we can see the lights of Quito and the food is great, too.”

  “I made reservations so we’ll leave in about an hour. You go get ready. I have some messages to attend to.” Gramma pulled out her cell phone and checked her text messages which were binging all day. She answered some of the more important ones. Reading her e-mail took a few more minutes.

  “If one of them’s from the Donald, tell him I said, ‘Hi.’”

  “One of them is from the Donald so I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

  “Is the President still trying to catch up with you?” Lola asked.

  “It’s never-ending. I’ll have you send a reply for me.”

  Gramma checked her remaining messages which were rolling in. She smiled at the ones from Florida and New York City. She quickly answered the ones from the Donald and one from the latest teen heart throb. Gramma frowned at a couple messages coming out of Washington. D.C. I suppose I’ll have to go to the capitol when I return home. Good grief. Isn’t anyone behaving there?

  She tapped out more text messages in reply to those received. She Skyped some others. Reservations for a D.C. trip were made at The Melrose on Pennsylvania Avenue. And what’s this one from Red? That thieving old coot says he wants to talk to me!

  At LaCohina

  “La Cohina is beautiful,” Lola said. “She stared like a tourist at the wall of glass which offered a lamp-lit view of the city.

  “It is beautiful,” Gramma said. “I’ve always enjoyed comin
g here. Now, you might want to try the cuy. Avoid the tronquito.”

  “What’s tronquito?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “And what’s cuy?” She looked at her gramma’s expression. “I know. Don’t ask.”

  Gramma smiled sweetly and briskly blinked her eyes.

  “It’s Gramma,” Manuel said as he approached her table. “We’re so happy to see you.” He bent down and hugged his favorite American visitor. He planted a big kiss on her hand.

  “Manuel. My friend. As handsome and charming as always,” Gramma replied in Spanish. “So good to see you, and it's great to be here. Oh, by the way, I have a coupon for tonight’s meals. Senior Citizen Discount.”

  “Of course you do,” Manuel said.

  “I think it also gives the bearer a free salad. We’ll pass on that.”

  Gramma grinned at the other wait staff who stopped by the table.

  They fluttered about and laughed, wondering what action would be going on tonight with Gramma in attendance.

  Other patrons were trying to guess who the old woman was that everyone was fussing over. They buzzed amongst themselves with surprise that an unglamorous senior was so popular.

  “What are you dining on tonight Gramma?” Manuel asked. “Filet a la brasa, as usual?”

  “Good memory, Manuel. I’d like mine well done. Over-cooked. Hot as can be,” Gramma said.

  “Understood,” Manuel said. “For your granddaughter, too?”

  “Would you like filet mignon tonight dear?” Gramma asked. “It’s a specialty here.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Lola replied. She gave Manuel her brightest smile.

  “No salad or greens of any kind. And bottled water, thank you,” Gramma said.

  “Ahhh, Gramma. I understand. And did you bring your own dessert again?” he asked.

  She patted her purse and nodded her head.

  Manuel laughed out loud and went to place their orders.

  “I heard someone order Chicha, Gramma. Do we want some of that?”

  “Spit and Hepatitis, Lola. So the answer is ‘No.’”

  Lovely music drifted across the dining room as they ate.

  During dinner, Manuel brought a tray with a card on it to Gramma’s table. He bowed and, with a gloved hand, placed it near her plate.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Gramma said, patting Manuel’s arm.

  “What’s that?” Lola asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ll take a look.”

  She opened the small envelope and a card fell out.

  “It’s in Spanish.” Lola said. “What’s it say?”

  Gramma read the message then said to her granddaughter, “It’s nothing. Just a ‘Hello’ from an acquaintance.” She glanced across the room to where a grinning Fernando was feasting on cuy.

  Fernando nodded her way. He chewed on the bones and licked his fingers before wiping them on the tablecloth.

  “Coarse,” Gramma said. She nodded back at Fernando, squinting through her tri-focals.

  “Ready for dessert?” Gramma asked. She pulled two ripe bananas from her purse and offered one to Lola. “Peel it from the bottom up like the gorillas do. It’s so much easier and you have less of those thready thingies.” She demonstrated the technique. “One can learn so much from animals, don’t you think?”

  They ate in silence and enjoyed the music before returning to their hotel room.

  At the Hotel

  Alone, Gramma crept down the staff stairs rather than take the elevator to the first floor. She avoided those areas, fearing they would be under surveillance.

  Since receiving Fernando’s note demanding she meet him near the dumpster in the back alley of the hotel, or else, Gramma thought of all possible scenarios for his threat to harm her and Lola if she refused to hand over the envelope to him. And what does he mean ‘or else?’ He sounds like he thinks he’s got cards to play. Oh, the unintended consequences of overconfidence.

  Fernando waited in silence with his back to the dumpster. He peeled a piece of who-knows-what off the sole of his shoe, all the while keeping a sharp eye for anyone approaching his way. He flicked the offending goo back onto the ground, adjusted his position, and absently stepped back onto the slop he’d just discarded. It reattached to his shoe.

  Fernando checked his watch and noted Gramma had less than two minutes to show or he’d sic his gang onto Room 207 and Lola. Even though Red forbid it, he’d then personally get Gramma. He read his most recent received messages revealing she wasn’t in the elevator or the stairwell. He texted his informants back and waited for replies.

  Lola remained asleep in room 201 where they had moved since their other room had been tossed. Deep in dreamland, she’d no idea goons were outside their previous room, waiting for Fernando’s go-ahead so they could break in and take her hostage.

  Gramma chuckled at how easy it was to interrupt the cell phone activity between Fernando and his gang. “They’re such children,” she said. She texted Fernando more lies about her whereabouts. She considered sending him her awesome pumpkin custard pie recipe, but figured he didn’t deserve it.

  His back against the dumpster, Fernando shifted from one leg to the other and thought about cleaning the goo off the bottom of his patent leathers again. He decided against it and instead, repeatedly scraped the shoe on the ground. Sticky, trailing threads of yuck stubbornly refused to let go.

  All it took was that split second of distraction for Gramma to come from behind the dumpster and jump Fernando’s unsuspecting self. She landed a leg shot just behind his knees and her prey fell so sharply that both patent leather loafers left his feet for parts unknown. His gun went flying high in the air, chasing after the shoes, the gooey one getting stuck to the side of the dumpster.

  Gramma caught the weapon before it hit the ground. She laughed out loud when she saw what he was carrying.

  “For goodness sakes, Fernando. Is this all Havana’s giving you?” She held up his pistol for derision. “These were used back in Batista’s day. Why, Grampa stopped packing this in ’52. What a bunch of cheap so-and-so’s you work for. And by the way. I’m not giving you the envelope and you’re not getting my pie recipe either. I heard you telling your gang you wanted it. You ought a’ be ashamed of yourself for threatening me and my Lola. Or any of my family. Now that really makes me mad. And you don’t want a’ have me mad at you, do you?”

  Fernando lay on the ground with Gramma’s boot pushing into his chest. He spoke when she lifted her foot.

  “I want the envelope, Gramma,” he rasped.

  “In your face,” Gramma said. Believing he had chutzpah for asking, Gramma shifted her weight and wedged her foot deep into his solar plexus.

  “Funny name for that area of your body, isn’t it?” Gramma said. “Solar Plexus. Solar Plexus. Makes you think of planets and braids, doesn’t it? Look it up Fernando. It’s interesting. A good education is so important to all of us. You could benefit from some schooling.”

  Fernando tried to yell, but couldn’t because of the size seven black work boots impeding his lung capacity and speech. His eyes darted frantically, but despite wanting to sock the old lady a good one, he couldn’t muster up the strength. His brown eyes widened when he saw his attacker peel off a strip of duct tape from a roll she whipped out from under her jacket.

  The first silvery strip was slapped across Fernando’s mouth before he could stop it.

  “A lot of people would applaud me for that, you know,” she said to him. “Your wife in particular. Maybe I’ll send her a photo of you on my cell phone, right now. What’s her number? Oh, that’s right. You can’t speak. Never mind.”

  Fernando looked offended.

  Gramma kept her foot deep in his body while she pulled his arms forward and taped them together, across his chest.

  The hit man gasped when she finally lifted her boot from his chest.

  T’sking aloud about the excess weight Fernando gained, Gramma taped his ankles together. Seeing his dirty
bare feet, she searched and found his loafers, one of which was in the garbage. The gooey one, she peeled from the side of the dumpster. She made a face at the unknown substance on it.

  “What’s wrong with you, wearing patent leather penny loafers on a stakeout? Good grief. Who do you think’s gonna be seeing you? Michael Kors? Now he has class. Oh, would he frown at the way you dress. Especially on a stakeout. Your mom’s not proud of you either, is she?”

  She stuck her boot in his face. “Now this is what you should be wearing. Practical. Comfortable. And they really do wear well and hold up. Easy to clean and impressive, too. Especially when you’re in action like tonight. Yeppir. All laced up, these won’t go flying off your feet like those things of yours did. Just sayin’.” She paused. “My boots aren’t cheap, though. They’re pricey. I’d buy you a pair, but you’re a bad boy and don’t deserve ’em.”

  Wardrobe advice from an old lady attacker? Fernando thought. And she’s complaining I’m gaining weight. Holey Moley. I’m not getting paid enough for this.

  Gramma struggled, but finally managed to get the loafers on Fernando’s feet.

  “Nasty,” she said, looking at the sticky stuff on his shoe. “Is that poop? Well, even if it is, you gotta wear your shoes. We don’t want you to go getting a cold or hurting your feetsies now, do we?” She swacked him on the head for emphasis. “Now look. Stay away from me and stay away from my family. Understand?” She ripped the duct tape off his face so he could talk.

  “Ouch,” he yelled.

  “Oops. Sorry,” Gramma said. “Wait. No I’m not.” She looked closely at his mouth. “Boy, do your teeth need cleaning. Honestly, don’t you know how to take care of yourself at all? I’ve seen little kids with better hygiene than you. You know, there are classes to help people with your issues.”

  “Where’s the envelope?” Fernando asked. “And stop worrying about my clothes and how clean I am.”

  “I’ve already gotten rid of the envelope. You’re too late. And someone has to help you get yourself together. You’re a mess. I’m a little worried about you. Are you having personal problems or something? Anything you want to share with me? I’m no Dr. Phil, but I’m a good listener.” She stuck the tape back on Fernando’s mouth.