Bingo You're Dead

by Lou Fletcher

  Tippi closed her eyes and rested her head on the armrest, a tiny smile on her lips.

  “I had just joined the center.” I remembered. “It was my first day and it was bingo day, for crying out loud. I tried to sit at one of the tables, and Frances Snider yelled at me, insisting the seat belonged to one of the regular members. You came to my rescue.”

  “I said, ‘Couilles!’ Of course, Frances didn’t know it means ‘balls.’ I was just learning how to cuss in French. I used to come on bingo days just so I could practice.” She smiled up at me.

  “You let me sit with you and Applebee. I think you were trying to decide if I was good enough to fit in with the cool kids.”

  “It wasn’t until the trip to France when I really got to know you.”

  I lifted her hands to my lips.

  She sat up, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Vive la France!” I pulled the blanket up under our chins. “Warm enough?”

  “I only hope Gus is as warm and safe at home.”

  “Me too.”

  We sat watching the fire until we were roused by a blast of cold air and a deep voice coming from the entranceway. I could see Sheriff Grange stomping the snow from his boots and pulling off his thick gloves. Violet and Mary trotted behind him, following the scent of the freshly minted widower.

  “It’s murder out there,” the sheriff said. He blew on his reddened hands. “Never saw anything like it and I’ve lived here my whole life. I had to park at the bottom of your hill next to the fishpond. Couldn’t make the last grade and I’ve got four-wheel drive and chains on.” He sighed. “Still coming down, too, and with the wind, it’s a whiteout.”

  Tippi cast a look in my direction, her forehead creased in a frown.

  I nodded. We were both aware of the peril Gus was in.

  “Sit here by the fire,” Mary said. “Get out of the way, Hank, the sheriff needs to warm up.” She batted her eyes at the man while tugging at the buttons on his coat.

  Violet snatched off his hat and yanked on my hands in an effort to pull me out of my seat. “Move it, Hank.”

  I could see I was outnumbered. I gave up and moved in front of Tippi, who was adjusting her glasses with her middle finger. Mary ignored her and positioned herself on the floor at the sheriff’s feet. She went to work untying the laces of his boots. Violet held out a pink crocheted blanket and tried to wrap the poor guy up like a whiskered old pig in a blanket. Visions of the Donner party came to mind.

  I’d seen enough and I needed to tell Grange about Gus. “Maybe the sheriff could use some cocoa.” I raised my eyebrows at the sisters, who were slobbering all over the guy. “Some of those chocolate chip cookies of yours too, Violet?”

  “Good idea, Hank.” She rose and tucked the pink blanket under his chin. “Sheriff, you poor thing—you’re probably famished.” Mary struggled to get up as Violet threw her sister a look of triumph and skipped nimbly out of the room.

  Mary had miscalculated the effort needed to lift her seventy-year-old body up from the floor. “Give me a hand, Hank. This new knee isn’t totally operational.” She adjusted her dress and gave the sheriff a toothy smile. “I’ll be back in a flash, Peter. Don’t go ‘way.”

  Grange blushed scarlet and nodded.

  “Sheriff, if you’re through flirting, I’d like a word.”

  “Don’t start, Hank. What’s up?”

  “Two things. First, Joe’s here.”

  Grange’s jaw dropped. “Here? How’d he get here? How long?” he sputtered. “Did you know...?”

  “He’s been here since Alice’s wake,” I said. “And no, we didn’t know he was here until we found him hiding in the tool closet in the utility room.”

  Sheriff Grange groaned and rubbed his forehead. “What’s the second thing, Hank? Not that I probably want to know.”

  “Tippi and I found out Gus left the center. We realized we hadn’t seen him for a while and when we went to check on his car, it was gone.”

  Applebee arrived in time to hear this last bit of news. “Oh, no.”

  “Do you mean to tell me he’s out in this storm?” Grange’s eyes widened. “What in God’s name was he thinking? Damn fool is going to get himself killed, and possibly the people who have to go look for him.” He swiped a hand across his forehead. “What time was it when you saw him last?”

  “He went over the financials for the competition with us, and afterwards we all went to a late lunch,” Applebee offered. “He was here then because he fixed a plate and took it to the conference room to finish a report he was working on. He wanted to get it done before the juice in his laptop battery ran out.”

  “What time was that?” Grange asked.

  “Around two?” Applebee looked to Tippi and me for confirmation.

  “Right,” Tippi said. “After we finished eating, the rest of us sat around talking.”

  “Right. It was probably another half-hour or forty-five minutes. None of us were in a hurry since we didn’t have anything else to do. Then I went out to check on the generator, brought in some wood and came back to the lounge for the music. When I went back to see how he was doing later, his computer and papers were gone.”

  Grange asked, “What’d you do after you found his things missing, Hank?”

  “Nothing. I thought he’d just tidied up. He’s a real neat-freak so it wouldn’t have been out of character.”

  “How much later was it when you noticed his absence?” the sheriff asked, scribbling notes as we talked.

  “We were all in the lounge while Applebee and Hazel played for us. It was at least another hour, probably longer. That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen him for a while and became concerned. Tippi and I searched the entire building and lastly, the parking lot. That’s when we found his car was gone.”

  Tippi looked ready to cry and reached for my hand as I spoke.

  “He must not have been gone long,” Tippi said. “Remember, Hank? We could still see his tire tracks, but just barely. It was almost dark, though.”

  “I’ll radio it in.” Grange heaved a deep sigh. “Hopefully he’s fine. Probably home safe and—I don’t know if I’d say he was sound. Damn fool.” He shook his head and adjusted his fur-lined hat down low around his ears. “I’ll try to ride out to his place but it’ll take me awhile. At least I can check along the way and make sure he’s not stuck out on the road somewhere.”

  “It’s kind of funny,” Tippi said. “Why would he bother to take his computer and all his papers and everything with him? He would have struggled just getting himself to the car without lugging along all that extra baggage. He has a desk in the office that Herb B. lets him keep his stuff in. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Neither does getting in a car and driving away in this storm,” said the sheriff, “but he did.”

  “I know,” Tippi replied. “It sure doesn’t sound like Gus, though.”

  I had been thinking the same thing. “I guess he was worried about Edna.”

  Violet, followed by a red-faced Mary, returned with the cocoa and cookies. Grange downed the cocoa and helped himself to a cookie.

  “I will never leave if you continue to take such marvelous care of me.” He brushed cookie crumbs off his shirtfront. “It’s time for me to shove off.” He added two more cookies to the ones already in his pocket. “Bob, I’ll radio in any news,” he said pulling, on his gloves. “And guys—better let the others know about Gus. Warn anybody with similar ideas that this is not just another snowstorm. This monster is a killer—make no mistake.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Tippi, Applebee, and I followed Sheriff Grange to the director’s office.

  “Open up, Herb,” Grange called, pounding his fist on the door.

  “Help! Help me. This guy’s nuts,” Joe yelled back.

  Grange looked around at us, his eyebrows raised.

  “Herb...” Tippi started to explain but was interrupted when the director cracked open the door. One eye looked out.

  “I
don’t have time for games, Bert,” Grange said, pushing the door wide open. “What the devil is going on in here?” He strode over to where Joe sat, still handcuffed.

  “Thank God you’re here, Sheriff. The man is out of his freakin’ mind. He said if I’d put on some goofy getup, he’d uncuff me. Wanted me to pretend to be a damn monk or...”

  “Friar Tuck?” I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s it. I think the guy’s some kinda pervert.” Joe glared at Herb B., who sat behind his desk stroking the rough brown fabric of what I’d guessed was the friar’s robe.

  Grange closed his mouth, which had fallen open at the sight of the two men. He rubbed his temples for what seemed like a full minute. Once recovered, he ordered Herb to release Joe to my custody. “It’s not like he’s gonna make a run for it,” Grange said when he protested.

  “Can I keep the handcuffs?” I asked the sheriff. I grabbed for the green fur, but the director stuffed them in his pocket.

  “Sheriff, take Hank with you and toss him into a snowdrift, will you? The guy is getting on my last nerve.”

  Grange’s eyes twinkled when he said, “Play nice, boys—and girls. Don’t make me come back here.”

  …

  We watched the sheriff pick his way cautiously down the drive to his SUV, until the darkness swallowed him up. We waited until we saw the headlights go on, and the vehicle begin its slow descent down the drive. The taillights from the Explorer grew dim then disappeared into the storm.

  “What a day,” Applebee said.

  Tippi shivered beside me.

  “I better check the fire and bring in some more wood,” I said. “Where’s my boots?”

  “Let me,” Joe offered. “I could use some fresh air.”

  “Promise you won’t run off?” I joked.

  “Careful, Tippi,” he said. “You might have Hank here competing for your spot at Giggles. He’s a riot.”

  I lent him my boots and warned the others not to wake me up as I intended to find a warm blanket and sleep through the rest of our confinement.

  Frenchie slinked into the room. Her stubby tail drooped against her backside. Marcy skipped behind her.

  “Maybe Frenchie should go out,” Tippi said. “I’ll take her out back, Bob. Where’s her leash?”

  “I want to go too.” Marcy jumped from one stocking foot to the other.

  “Not tonight, sweetie. You might get blown away.” Wittekind scooped the child into his arms. “Let’s go ask Mary if there are any marshmallows. We can toast them over the fire.”

  “I got blowed away once, Uncle Wittekind,” Marcy started on one of her stories. “I blowed all the way to California and saw Mickey Mouse,” her child’s voice drifted away as the two left.

  Applebee retrieved the leash from his coat pocket and warned Tippi not to venture out too far. She picked up a shovel by the door and cleared off a place next to the patio for the little terrier, while Joe brought in enough wood to see us through the night. When he’d finished loading the wood into the fireplace, he found some blankets, spread them on the floor in the farthest corner of the room, rolled up his coat for a pillow, and turned his back to us.

  Herb B. watched from the doorway.

  “Maybe you can call up your gang of Merry Men to dig us out of here, Robin,” Hazel called to him.

  “Where’s Maid Marian?” Roy added.

  “You mean has he made Marian?” came another voice referring to Herb B.’s relationship with Angie.

  Jeers and laughter followed the director as he hurried from the room, flipping us the bird on his way out.

  “Good riddance,” I said, thinking again of Gus. “Any news?” I asked Applebee.

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know,” he called over his shoulder as he wheeled out of the room.

  “Wanna have some fun? Take our minds off all this?” I asked Tippi when she joined me on the couch.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  I pointed to Perry, who was curled up by the fire and snoring to beat the band.

  “Perry’s playing with a full orchestra tonight,” Tippi commented.

  “I’ll be right back, save my place.” I gave her a quick kiss.

  I found the institutional-size can of vanilla pudding I was looking for in the pantry. Seeing the full shelves, I guessed we could be stuck here all winter and never run out of food.

  “Give me a hand,” I said, helping Tippi up from the couch. I pulled the afghan off Perry’s feet.

  “Whoa,” Tippi whispered. “Look at the size of those things. Wonder if it’s true what they say about men’s feet and…”

  “Size thirteen here.” I held up one foot then the other.

  Tippi started to say something but thought better of it.

  “We’ll continue this conversation later, Ms. Mulgrew. Now, where are his shoes?”

  “Here, by the fire. They’re soaking wet.”

  “He must have gone outside to smoke,” I said. “Wonder where he stashed his pack? I could...”

  “Thought you gave it up, Hank?”

  “I did. Disgusting habit. Anywhoo, let’s get down to the task at hand. First, set his shoes on some newspaper,” I directed. “Now.” I poured the pudding into each shoe.

  “Good job.” Tippi placed the shoes next to the couch where Perry snored unawares.

  “Okay, where’s his stupid hat?”

  “Hank, I don’t know about the hat. That might be too much.”

  “Wimp. Okay, let me see what else I can find. Be right back.”

  Elrod was dozing in a recliner at the corner where the hallway widens into the lounge. From where he sat, he had a clear view of the foyer as well as anyone coming or going from the kitchen, the offices, the clinic, or the ceramics room, all of which opened into the long hallway. He opened one eye and gave me a thumb’s up when I passed by. I returned the gesture but his eyes were already shut tight.

  I went into the ceramics room that doubles as a storeroom for the center’s holiday decorations. I was rummaging through the Christmas boxes when the beam from my flashlight glinted off something shiny. I pushed a couple of small boxes out of the way and put my hand on the object.

  It was Gus’s MacBook.

  …

  I retrieved the laptop, then searched for the printouts we had seen lying next to it earlier. I was still searching through boxes as best I could with only my flashlight for illumination when Tippi came up behind me.

  “See what I found.” I showed her the computer.

  “What’s it doing in here? Are the papers here too?”

  “I haven’t found them yet. Hold the flashlight while I look.”

  “They’re not here,” I said, after further searching. I sat down to collect my thoughts. I retrieved some chocolate kisses from my pockets, which Tippi immediately pounced on, popping them all into her mouth.

  “Did you take the foil off?”

  “Funny man.”

  “It’s freezing in here,” Tippi said. “Feels like the wind is coming right through the walls. Let’s go in by the fire.”

  We went back to the lounge. The others were dozing around the fire so we found a few more afghans and settled in the corner.

  “Let’s see if we can fire this baby up.” I punched the ‘On’ button. Nothing. “Juice is all used up.”

  We rehashed the mysteries surrounding Gus’s disappearance, Applebee’s near miss, and Alice’s murder. After an hour, we had no more clues about the events shaking up our little world than we had when we started.

  Around us, the others dozed by the fire. Marcy and Wittekind were playing checkers in the corner.

  “Do you really think Gus was serious about buying an RV?” Tippi asked.

  “I don’t know. I never took him for the outdoorsy type. Although in one of those things, it’s not like you’re really roughing it.”

  “You ever feel like running away, Hank?”

  “Sure, I guess everybody does sometimes.”

  “Whe
re would you go?”

  “Well, on a night like this, Florida—maybe the Keys—sounds awfully appealing. I’ve always wanted to go to Australia, too. Snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef. It’s summer there now. Definitely Australia.”

  “Alice was going to raft down the Colorado,” Tippi recalled.

  We sat in silence for a moment, remembering our friend.

  “Shows you the importance of living in the moment,” I said. “I think Alice was doing that.” I smiled, thinking of her and Joe skinny-dipping in a hot tub.

  “I’d gas up Ruby, toss a few clothes in a bag, and set off wherever my fancy would take me,” Tippi said. “One rule—no interstates. The back roads only, like William Least Heat-Moon, the fellow who wrote Blue Highways.” I nodded, picturing the two of us, top down in the T-bird, setting off for anywhere we wanted. I liked the idea.

  “What do you think Rachel would say if you took off?”

  “I wouldn’t tell her until we got too far away for her to send the Adult Protective Services people after us.” I smiled at Tippi, a social worker in her previous life.

  “Us?”

  “Sure. You’ll need me to look after you,” I grinned. “Change the flat tires, check the oil, protect you from guys who prey on beautiful women…”

  “Nice save.” Tippi adjusted the cover and moved closer, resting her head on my shoulder. “I wish LT and I had had kids,” she said. “Having somebody care about where you are and what happens to you. Like your Rachel.”

  I hugged her close. “As long as I’m around, you have somebody who cares—very much. Don’t ever forget it.”

  We sat lost in our own thoughts. I drifted into a twilight sleep where dream and reality blended. When I woke up, the snow was coming down so hard it looked as though somebody had pulled a silver curtain across the windows, blocking the landscape and muffling all night sounds. The warmth of Tippi asleep in my arms radiated through me, and I drifted back to sleep.

  NINETEEN