Bingoed

by Patricia Rockwell

  After she completed reading the entire stack of information—at least a quick reading, if not a thorough one—she felt that she understood HOW Sue Barber might have poisoned Bob Weiderley and possibly with what type of poison. What she didn’t know was WHY. The same held true for Violet Hendrickson. It was possible that Violet had been able to devise some sort of poison delivery system to dose Bob, but less likely. Violet, however, as Essie saw it, had a possible motive. Bob was apparently aware of her criminal record (if the newspaper clipping she’d found under the desk blotter in his apartment was any indication) and Violet was the Director of Happy Haven which would benefit greatly in a financial sense if Bob died (at least if he died before he changed his will to leave his wealth to his new wife Evelyn). But Bob and Sue had no adversarial relationship. Why would Sue want to poison Bob? Sue didn’t benefit from Bob’s death, not that Essie could see anyway. There was Sue and there was Violet—one with motive and no means, and the other with means and no motive.

  Essie thought and thought about the two women—the Director of Happy Haven and the Social Director. Violet was Sue’s immediate superior. Surely, thought Essie, it can’t be that Violet ordered Sue to kill Bob Weiderley? That just seemed too gruesome. But how was it any more gruesome than either of them deciding to kill the poor old gentleman all alone?

  The two women obviously worked closely together. Their offices were side by side. Maybe they planned the murder together. Maybe they were like a team working together to wipe out old people wherever they could—especially old men who had left all of their money to the place where the two women worked.

  “Residents,” announced Phyllis on the intercom, “dinner is served. Time for those of you scheduled for first sitting to come get in line. The chef tells us that the pork chops are especially divine tonight!”

  “Great!” said Essie. She gathered the papers and placed them on her end table, leaving the unread pages on top and at a right angle to the read pages. Then after her usual quick trip to the bathroom to straighten her hair and ‘other things’ she pushed her walker out into the hallway (checking both directions to make sure Sue Barber wasn’t lying in wait for her as she exited) and headed off to the divine pork chops in the dining room.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “The age of a woman doesn’t mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.”

  —Ralph Waldo Emerson

  In the middle of their divine pork chops, the women considered their exploits that afternoon in the botanical gardens. They were still frightened and worried about Essie’s near brush with death. Just how, they wondered, did that large branch barely miss her? They told Fay about their adventures but Fay seemed oblivious to their tale. Essie wondered.

  “Fay found quite a bit of interesting information about poison,” she whispered to Opal and Marjorie. Marjorie took a more scrutinizing look at her pork chop and Opal pushed her plate away.

  “Essie,” chided Opal, “you really know how to kill a person’s appetite. Do we have to discuss poison at the dinner table?”

  “I just thought you’d like to know about all the research Fay did while we were out gallivanting around in Mother Nature.”

  “You mean while you were out getting practically smashed by a huge tree limb!” exclaimed Marjorie. Fay remained unmoved as she continued to nibble on her divine chop.

  “Keep your voice down,” hushed Essie. “Sue and Violet are still in the dining room. They might overhear us.”

  “They’re all the way over by the window,” noted Opal. “They don’t have super hearing.”

  “You know,” suggested Essie, looking back and forth from one friend to another, “if Sue and Violet are here eating dinner, you know what that means?”

  “That they’re not poisoning anyone?” asked Opal with a sneer.

  “No!” said Essie with a curt nod to Opal. “It means they’re not in their offices.”

  “So?” said Marjorie, tentatively returning to her pork chop.

  “I’m thinking,” said Essie, “that maybe we could slip out before they leave here, and just happen by their offices.”

  “Why?” asked Marjorie.

  “Maybe we could find a clue,” said Essie with a sway of her shoulders.

  “Such as what?” asked Opal. “An incriminating giant box of poison?”

  Santos, who was working the dinner shift tonight in addition to his regular day shift, arrived with the desserts the women had ordered and proceeded to exchange their entree plates for the smaller dessert bowls.

  “Cobbler!” screamed Marjorie. “My favorite!”

  “Be careful. It might be poisoned!” said Opal.

  “Oh, Miss Opal!” gasped Santos. “Never would Santos serve a dessert that would harm his favorite ladies in any way.”

  “No, Santos,” said Essie, patting the arm of the young waiter, “Opal and Marjorie are just having a disagreement over a . . . movie they saw. One of the characters was poisoned and they thought it was delivered in his food . . .”

  “But it was in his clothing, right?” offered Santos, “I see that movie, I think, Miss Essie. Very clever.” He continued passing the cobblers around the table.

  “How did they get poison in his clothing?” asked Essie.

  “I think they poured it in washer and then washed his pajamas in it. It was safe when someone just touch the pajamas, but when man wear pajamas all night— all over his body—poison rub off during night into his skin,” explained Santos as he completed his task, and wiping off a small amount of spilled tea in front of Fay’s place, he headed back to the kitchen.

  “What do you think of that?” asked Essie.

  “You mean, did someone wash Bob’s pajamas in poison?” asked Opal. “Who would do that? Other than his cleaning woman? And why would she?”

  Or, thought Essie, maybe his wife. Someone who would know for certain what pajamas he wore—or that he wore pajamas. Oh my, the plot is just too thick. Her head was spinning.

  “So,” said Essie finally, “are we going to do it?”

  “Do what?” asked Marjorie.

  “Look for clues in the . . . offices,” replied Essie.

  “Oh, will this ever end?” whined Opal, hand to her head. “Oh, all right! Let’s go!” The four women rose, grabbed their walkers, and filed out of the dining hall.

  “Fay,” said Essie to her wheelchair-bound friend, “you’d better wait here in the lobby—or work at the computers if you like.”

  Fay smiled sweetly and rolled off into the family room. The remaining women rolled their walkers to the right and around the corner that led to the office wing. As they headed down the carpeted hallway, they noticed that most of the glass-enclosed offices along the left-side of the hallway were deserted. Most of the various directors of Happy Haven had probably left for the evening. Only those individuals such as Sue Barber who worked directly with residents would be likely to remain into the evenings. The financial director and publicity director and whatever other directors worked here (Essie really didn’t know because most of these people she didn’t know) probably kept bankers’ hours.

  “Where do we start?” asked Opal as the threesome halted midway down the hallway.

  “I want to check out Sue’s office to see if she has any poison hidden anywhere,” said Essie. She rolled her walker into the office with Sue’s nameplate on the glass door. “Opal, you know your job.”

  “I know,” said Opal. “Lookout.” Opal rolled her walker back around and headed down to the entrance to the office wing from the lobby. Essie rolled into Sue’s office as Marjorie remained at her door where she could see both Essie and Opal just in case Essie had to move out of the office quickly.

  Essie scooted around to Sue’s small metal desk which was flush against a wall. Quickly she surveyed the items on top of the desk and nothing appeared unusual. She opened all of the drawers looking for a container of liquid or powder or something that might ostensibly be poison. The only thing incriminating she
found was a bottle of nail polish. She probably didn’t poison Bob with this, thought Essie.

  Leaving Sue Barber’s desk, Essie moved around the small room. There were several comfortable chairs and a long table against the other wall. On this table were various games, sporting equipment, assorted prizes for contests, and other paraphernalia. Under the table were stacked five or six boxes. She opened one and discovered costumes that Sue evidently intended to use or had used for a Halloween party.

  Then Essie checked inside a small closet near Sue’s office door. Here she found a jacket and on the floor a pair of overshoes. On the shelf above she found cleaning supplies—paper towels, rubber gloves, a bottle of cleaning spray, and a box of sponges. Apparently, if Sue had squirreled away any poison she used on Bob Weiderley, she wasn’t keeping it in her office.

  Essie rolled out of Sue’s office with a glance at Marjorie. Marjorie nodded and indicated that Opal was at the entrance to the office wing and so far no one was coming. Essie moved on down the hallway to Violet’s office. This too, like Sue’s office, was unlocked. Essie opened the door and wheeled herself inside. Marjorie nodded at her and continued to keep her eye on Opal at the far end of the hallway.

  Violet’s office was much more daunting to explore than Sue’s. Violet had been at Happy Haven longer and obviously she had accumulated much more stuff. Violet’s desk sat facing the doorway with her back to the window on the opposite side. Her desk was larger than Sue’s and was covered with more papers and files. Essie glanced around at the material on the desk but didn’t see anything obviously incriminating. She opened all of the drawers where she found a multitude of hanging files meticulously catalogued and labeled. Along the right wall, five filing cabinets stood. Essie quickly opened all the drawers of all the cabinets. At the cabinet nearest the window, the lowest drawer would not open. Essie realized that this cabinet had a locking mechanism and that the bottom drawer was locked. Hmmm, she wondered. What was so important or secret that Violet had it locked up? She rolled back over to the desk and pulled out the center drawer which she had already searched. She remembered two small gold keys in this drawer but no indication on them as to what they were for. Grabbing both keys, she moved back to the filing cabinet near the window, bent down and slipped the little key into the cabinet lock. The key fit and turned and the lower cabinet drawer slid out with a few jerks.

  Inside, Essie found virtually nothing. Nothing except a manila envelope lying on the bottom of the drawer. What? she wondered. She picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside, she found newspaper clippings—one that was quite familiar and several more that she hadn’t seen. All detailed the criminal records of different women over about a forty year period. One woman was named Vivian Hollingsworth, one Vivica Hempstead, and a third was Violet Hendrickson. It was this third clipping she had seen in Bob Weiderley’s apartment. The women in the other two articles also had DUI records just like Violet. The three women in the newspaper stories had even more in common than their criminal drinking behavior. From just a cursory glance at the accompanying photographs of the three, it was obvious that they were all Violet Hendrickson.

  “Essie,” called out Marjorie, “Someone’s coming!”

  Essie shoved the clippings back in the envelope, dropped the envelope back in the drawer, slammed the drawer shut, locked it, rumbled over to the desk and dropped the keys in. Then she quickly pushed her walker as fast as possible out through Violet’s office door and she and Marjorie headed down the hallway in the opposite direction from where Opal had just signaled them that someone was coming. They pulled around a corner near the end of the hallway which dead-ended at a closet door, just as Sue and Violet sauntered down the hallway laughing and chatting. They each entered their offices.

  “Now what?” whispered Marjorie to Essie as they shivered behind the small nook at the end of the hallway. Essie peeked out. She could see Opal at the distant end. She motioned to her to come towards them. Opal cringed and shook her head. Essie continued to point, indicating Sue and Violet’s offices. Finally, when nothing seemed to be happening, Opal took a deep breath and stormed her walker down the hallway, stopping directly between Sue and Violet’s door. She started yelling.

  “Help me, please! Help, Miss Violet! Miss Sue!” Opal carried on like crazy, screaming and calling for the two women. Violet and Sue came out of their offices and spoke to Opal. Essie and Marjorie could see them comforting her but they had no idea what crazy story Opal was feeding the two directors. After a few moments, Opal’s legs seemed to give way and Sue and Violet escorted her into Violet’s office where they all three disappeared. At that moment, Essie wheeled her walker down the hallway as fast as she could.

  “Come on, Marjorie,” she whispered to her friend right behind her. As they closed in on Sue’s office they peeked through the glass wall where they saw Opal seated in one of Sue’s comfortable chairs and Sue and Violet kneeling before her. Opal noticed Essie and Marjorie pass by all the while she continued to moan about some mysterious ailment. When Essie and Marjorie arrived in the lobby, they checked first to make certain that their appearance from the office wing would not be noticed and then when it was clear, they rolled into the lobby and quickly took up positions on a lobby sofa that was positioned so that they could see anyone exiting the office wing.

  In a few minutes, Opal appeared at the entrance to the office wing. Sue and Violet were on either side of her being very solicitous.

  “No, no,” said Opal to Sue and Violet, “I’m really fine now. I don’t know what came over me. It must have been that cobbler. It just didn’t set right with me for some reason. I usually just love it! You don’t need to stay with me. I’m really just fine!” Opal smiled heroically at the two directors who retreated squeamishly back into the office wing. As soon as they were out of sight, Essie and Marjorie, bounded up from their seats and rolled quickly over to Opal.

  “Opal,” said Essie, hugging her lanky friend with joy, ”You are my hero!”

  “Mine too!” agreed Marjorie, giving Opal a super tight squeeze.

  “It was nothing,” shrugged Opal, “just a little bit of light acting.”

  They all laughed and headed off to the family room to find Fay.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.”

  —Oliver Wendell Holmes

  Later that night, after she had enjoyed her weekly shower and had settled to watch one of those ubiquitous reality television shows from the comfort of her soft armchair and her flannel nightie, Essie was able to think back on what had turned out to be a rather extraordinary day. The botanical gardens in the afternoon and then the search of the directors’ offices and the close call when she and Marjorie were almost caught in their espionage. It made Essie smile to think that she could accomplish so much at her advanced age. She resolved never to let her age be a hindrance in doing what she wanted to do. She’d rather go out with a bang than a whimper, as that W. C. Fields always used to say.

  The phone startled her from her thoughts. Who in the world would be calling her so late at night? It was after eight o’clock and people should be heading to bed, she reasoned. She quickly answered the phone, worried that one of her three children or one of their children might be sick or injured.

  “Miss Cobb,” said the voice of a man. “Miss Cobb? I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but we spoke in your lobby a few days ago. I’m Ben Jericho. I’ve been looking for Mr. Weiderley—Mr. Bob Weiderley. Do you remember talking to me? When I was there, your Director, Miss Hendrickson, told me he was on a fishing trip and she didn’t know when he’d return.”

  “Oh, Mr. Jericho,” said Essie, surprised. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  “Yes,” he replied, “I suppose you didn’t. Actually, I just called your front desk to see if Mr. Weiderley had returned and the clerk said he hadn’t. I asked if I could speak to you so they rang your apartment. I’m sorry for calling so late
.”

  “I was getting ready for bed,” she stammered. “I . . . I’m really very . . . tired.”

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Cobb . . . Miss Essie, if I may call you that. You were so kind to speak to me the other day. I won’t keep you long.”

  “All right,” she agreed, cautiously. “But I really can’t talk long.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “I only wanted to ask you if you had heard from Bob—Mr. Weiderley. Maybe, I was thinking, he might have contacted you or one of his friends at Happy Haven to let them know when he’s returning. I’m really very anxious to contact him.”

  “So you said, Mr. Jericho,” responded Essie, “but Mr. Jericho, I’m not in a position to discuss Bob’s, Mr. Weiderley’s whereabouts with someone I don’t really know. I mean, I have only your word that you know him. I’ve never heard Bob, Mr. Weiderley, say anything about you. For all I know, you might be trying to fleece him. I mean, he is an old man. Sometimes, people do try to scam old people like us.” She was quite proud of the argument she had just presented on the spur of the moment. She felt she had indicated why she had reservations about providing Jericho with any pertinent information about Bob without actually revealing anything she shouldn’t.

  “I see,” responded Jericho, quietly. There was a fairly long pause as the man appeared to be contemplating his next move. Or maybe, thought, Essie, he is devising how he’ll have to revise his scheme so he can scam both of us now.