by Ann Warner
“Yes, I will.”
He stood and reached out a hand. To shake, I realized after a moment. His hand was large and warm, and touching him, I felt once again the quiet force of his personality I’d noticed the first time I met him and every time I’d seen him since.
The temptation to ask him to stay so I could confess my secret and ask for his help was, briefly, overwhelming.
All in all a good thing then that he chose that moment to let go of my hand and walk out of my office.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Josephine
The inspirational messages and quotes were coming in quickly. As I delivered them to Lill, I divided them into two piles: residents and staff. Then I subdivided the staff pages into those who had ready access to residents’ apartments and those who did not.
We discussed whose writing should be examined as a priority, and Lill suggested I find out who was assigned to clean the apartments that had missing items. Leaving her examining the writing sample from the head of housekeeping, I went to talk to Gladys and Glenn’s neighbors and discovered, as they were in different wings, they had different housekeepers.
Last, I spoke to Dot Todhoffer, the woman missing the stamp. She added a third housekeeper to my list. Not surprising, but it was disappointing. Each analysis took a lot of time, so narrowing down possible suspects would be invaluable to Lill’s efforts.
When I returned to her apartment, I found Lill bent over a portable writing desk, peering through a magnifying glass and brandishing a protractor.
“This is most interesting, Josephine,” she said, glancing at me.
“Who are you analyzing now?” I asked.
“The handyman. You know, the one who replaces our light bulbs and unstops toilets, things like that.”
“I’ve never met him.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Lill said without looking up. “You probably unstop your own toilet.”
“And I’ll change my own light bulbs. I’m not doddering yet. But I haven’t asked any of the maintenance staff for a handwriting sample yet.” Then I noticed the paper Lill was examining wasn’t one of the ones I’d been handing out. It appeared to be a work order, or something similar.
“Where did you get that?” I pointed at the paper.
“I’ve been collecting samples for some time. Just for fun, you know.”
“You mean I didn’t need to go around talking to everyone?” I was finding it a chore, to tell the truth.
“Not at all. I only have a few scraps. The samples you’re getting are so much better. Still, this one is most interesting.”
“In what way?”
“He has double-looped circle letters and curled-under arches. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to discover Bob is having an affair.”
Most of what Lill said about the writing samples was in a code I’d yet to break. “But is he capable of theft?”
“I’d certainly consider him a suspect.” She paused and took off the glasses. “You know what would help?”
“What?”
“To know what Mac has found out. It might narrow things down. Otherwise, it may take weeks for me to get through all this.” Her hand swept over the piles of papers, and she sat back with a sigh.
“We could invite him for another evening of poker and Scotch.”
“You think he’ll come?”
“I suspect the Scotch will be more than enough temptation.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mac
On a Friday in mid-October, I got a call from Josephine inviting me to come over that evening. Erdradour was mentioned, making my mouth water, and since I had nothing else planned, I accepted the invitation. My sister would say that my looking forward to spending an evening with two elderly women was proof positive I needed an intervention.
Despite that thought, I hung up, smiling. Of course it occurred to me the two might have an ulterior motive. In return for a shot of exceptional Scotch, I expected to have my brain picked on any progress Dillingham and I had made with the thefts.
Since we’d finished interviewing, I suspected rumors were flying among the staff, and I was equally sure Souter would be keeping residents in the dark, or trying to. But given what little we’d learned so far, talking to residents, especially these two, would fit nicely into the investigation. It meant I could sip Josephine’s whiskey without feeling compromised.
When I arrived and discovered it would be only the three of us, I realized I’d also been pleased by the invitation because I thought Devi might be joining us. But if that’s what I hoped, why wasn’t I giving Devi a call myself? It was spineless for me to expect Josephine and Lillian to set me up. On the other hand, I had no business pursuing a relationship with a woman like Devi. She was young enough to want children, and she deserved better than me.
Josephine ushered me over to the sofa. The Erdradour bottle and three crystal glasses were sitting on the coffee table.
“If you’d do the honors?” She took a seat across from me. “But only a tiny drop for me, if you please.”
I poured single fingers of Scotch into two of the glasses and a half finger in the third, and the three of us saluted each other and then lifted our glasses to our lips. While Lillian and I savored the Scotch, Josephine took only a sip, then set her glass down with a click.
“Actually, we didn’t invite you here just for Scotch, Mac. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Fine by me.”
She smiled, then picked up her glass and peered at its contents, as if searching for words. “Lill and I have a confession, you see.”
I set my glass down and gave her my full attention.
“There are things we can do that might be more difficult for you.” She shook her head. “Sorry. That didn’t come out quite right.”
The Scotch in her glass sloshed, and I was tempted to reach out and take the glass out of her hand. It would be a terrible waste if any of it spilled.
“We think it will be difficult for anyone to find out who’s doing this,” Lillian said. “But it’s important to stop them.”
I took a sip of whiskey and left them dangling. This was the kind of poker I did know how to play.
“Lill is a Graphoanalyst.” Josephine sat back with a satisfied expression, as if everything should now make perfect sense. Which it did. Sort of.
“She’s worked with the police.”
I struggled not to smile.
“We’re collecting handwriting samples from the staff, and I’ve been analyzing them,” Lillian said. She stood and walked over to the table to pick up a pile of papers.
“Wait. How did you get people to cooperate?”
“We told them we’re putting together an inspirational book for children with cancer,” Josephine said, her tone offhand. “It’s part of a fund-raising effort another resident, Myrtle Grabinowitz, is doing.”
“You’re right,” I said. “That’s not an approach I could pull off.” It might even be illegal.
“We thought if we combined forces . . .” Josephine gestured with her glass before letting the words trail off. She gave me a hopeful look.
I reached over and eased the glass out of her hand. “How do you propose we do that?”
“We thought we’d tell you our conclusions, and you’d tell us who to look at next.” Lillian sat back down, the papers in one hand. “We have a number of possibilities.” She waved the pages. “If we can narrow it down, it would be a huge help.”
I thought about it while taking another smoky mouthful of Scotch, and decided I couldn’t see a downside to their plan. Especially since they’d offered to share what they knew first. I nodded at Lillian.
“We think it’s unlikely Mr. Souter is involved,” she said, pulling a paper off the pile and setting it aside. “Neither is Candace. Or Bob, the maintenance man, or Margo, who’s head of housekeeping.” As she spoke, she added sheets to the smaller pile. But that still left a lot of possibilities.
“They were your main suspects?�
�� I said.
“They seemed the most obvious ones to rule out,” Josephine said.
“What about Eddie?” I said.
“I looked at his writing some time ago, and he’s definitely a suspect. But I’m not convinced he’s smart enough to have done this. At least, not on his own. So we’re looking for a possible accomplice.”
“I see. So you put together a bogus fund-raiser as a cover for what you’re really doing? That about right?”
Josephine shrugged.
“What happens to the money that’s raised?”
“That’s all taken care of. It goes to Children’s Hospital.”
“And this book? Is it a scam?”
“Of course not,” Josephine said. “We’ll take everything people write and make a book out of it. We’re planning to make copies available at no charge through the hospital.”
“Admirable.”
“Would you write something for us, Mac?” Lillian said. “After all, there is going to be a book, and we’d like more contributions from men. It isn’t only little girls who get cancer.”
Although it occurred to me they might analyze my writing, it didn’t bother me since I have nothing to hide. “Sure. Why not?”
Lillian retrieved several sheets of paper and a pen, and handed them to me. She sat back down, and she and Josephine gave me identical probing looks.
“What?” I said, setting the paper and pen on the table by my glass.
“We showed you our cards, now it’s time for you to show us yours,” Josephine said. She leaned over and poured the whiskey from her glass into mine, a blatant bribe.
While I didn’t think they’d actually discover the thief from a handwriting sample, they might have other information that could prove useful. So first, I told them everything I knew about the inventory lists and how they were handled. Neither had anything to add to that. Then I told them about my conversation with Dot Todhoffer.
“Dot said after she and Herman moved here, he often showed other residents his stamps. Since he’s now deceased, we can’t ask him who he showed the stamps to, but Dot did say she thought it was mostly men.”
“When he showed people his stamps, did he tell them about the one that’s now missing?” Josephine said.
“Dot said since he loved sharing the story about how he acquired it with anyone who would listen, she assumed he did. We know for sure he told his grandson.”
“I do vaguely remember Herman,” Lillian said. “He died six months ago. You know, the stamp could have been missing since then.”
“That’s true. But at least we have confirmation from the grandson the stamp was here at Brookside before Todhoffer died. And Devi verified she’d seen Gladys Turpin wearing the necklace that’s been reported missing. That means the only item we have no confirmation was ever here is Glenn Bascombe’s baseball card.”
“But if you know two of the items were here?” Josephine lifted her eyebrows.
“It makes it likely the card was here too,” I finished for her. “Still, we need more proof before we investigate further.”
“You mean, you’d just walk away?”
“We have only circumstantial evidence and zero suspects.”
“And the suspect pool just got deeper with Herman showing the stamp to other residents,” Josephine said.
Lillian sighed.
“I wish I could help you,” Josephine told Lillian. “Is there something I can look for as a way to narrow down the pile?”
Lillian shook her head. “Everything is interrelated, and interpretation depends on those relationships. Something taken in isolation . . . well, if we try that, we might miss the thief. No, I’m going to have to keep analyzing.”
“If there is a thief, they won’t be too happy if they found out you two were looking for them.”
“You’re the only one who knows what we’re doing,” Josephine said. “I think that means we’re safe.”
“Okay. But promise me something. If you come up with a reasonable suspect, you’ll call me. Don’t go asking them if they did it.”
“We solemnly swear,” Josephine said.
I took the last sip of Scotch and stood, and Josephine jumped to her feet and made sure I took the paper and pen with me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lillian
In early November, when Myrtle asked when we’d have the book ready to present to Eddie along with the ceremonial check, Josephine said ten days. I nudged her, but she ignored me.
Myrtle pulled a calendar out of her purse and flipped its pages. “How about the twelfth? That way, we’ll still be ahead of the holidays.”
“Sounds good,” Josephine said.
I didn’t bother to react this time.
“I’ll let Devi know so she can arrange the refreshments. And I’ll talk to my contact at Children’s about printing up a presentation check.” With that, Myrtle, ever the busy person she is, bustled off.
“Why did you agree to that, Josephine?” I knew I sounded desperate, but that’s how I was feeling.
“Don’t worry, Lill. While you’ve been analyzing, I’ve been researching publication options. There’s something called POD where you can get books printed as you need them. And I can get that arranged while you continue to analyze.”
We went back to her apartment then so she could show me what the book looked like on the computer.
“How clever of you, Josephine.” I sighed, exhausted. “I better get back to work.”
“Not until you drink a cup of tea. I have just the thing to perk you up.” She stepped into the kitchen to heat the water, but while she was in there, I fell asleep.
~ ~ ~
I no longer bother to check whose handwriting I’m analyzing. Loops and swirls dance behind my eyes the whole time I’m awake, as well as during that suspended time as I drift off to sleep. If it wasn’t for Josephine, I’d have stopped by now.
“You know, these are fascinating,” she said, picking up one of the sheets on which I’d written my findings. “The more I read through these, the more impressed I am. Who would guess you can tell so much from the way the writing is slanted? And this stuff about club strokes and how people cross their t’s, amazing.”
“But we don’t seem to be any closer to finding out who the guilty person is, and I’m exhausted.”
“You need to take time off, Lill. At least until after the party.”
“I’m afraid if I stop, I won’t be able to get started again.” The only thing I’d stopped for in recent days was for meals and to go to church.
“But if you’re exhausted, you might miss something important.”
Josephine was correct, of course, as she usually was.
She went off to sign us up for the next shopping trip, just to give us a change of scenery, while I organized the mass of papers on my table.
She returned a few minutes later with the news that her new car was ready to be picked up. I didn’t realize she’d bought a car. Either she’d never mentioned it, or I was too tired to remember. She already had her coat on, and she insisted I put mine on and come along. Devi was waiting to drive us to the dealership.
When we arrived, I was surprised, to say the least, by the car Josephine had chosen. A lime-green Subaru Cross-something-or-other. Devi and I examined it while Josephine completed the paperwork. The car was sporty and the color eye-catching.
I walked back over to the table where Josephine was completing the transaction in time to hear the salesman tell her the amount owed. I stood there blinking in surprise while Josephine wrote that number into the space on a check, and then signed it and handed it over.
The salesman picked up the keys and escorted Josephine to the car. He had her sit in the driver’s seat, and she insisted I sit in the passenger seat. Devi had to leave by that time. The salesman opened the door for me with a flourish before returning to Josephine’s side of the car.
He leaned in and pushed buttons on the steering wheel, providing a steady commentary about
what was what. Even Josephine was overwhelmed by all the options. She finally asked the man to set the small screen to show the number of miles remaining on her tank of gas and thanked him one last time, and we were free to leave.
“What do you think?” she said as we pulled out of the lot.
“I like the color.”
“That’s the main reason I picked it.”
“You won’t ever have to worry about losing it.”
She grinned at me, and I grinned back.
“No more Brookside shuttle buses,” she said, obviously pleased with herself. “Now we can go anywhere we want, anytime we want.”
I did think that sounded nice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Devi
I’d arranged for the cake and other refreshments for the surprise party for Eddie the way I always do when there’s a party. After making sure everything was in readiness, I went to check on Josephine.
Since I’d seen her and Lillian only rarely during the past week, I wanted to be sure they were okay, although I figured they had to be since Josephine’s bright green car was often missing from its spot. Clearly she was busy enjoying her newfound independence.
At Josephine’s, I found Lillian asleep on the couch.
“She’s worn out,” Josephine whispered, a finger to her lips. She stepped into the hall to continue the conversation.
“Have you figured out who may be doing it yet?”
I’d confronted Lillian about the handwriting analysis book I’d seen, and Lillian had spilled every one of the beans, including the fact she was convinced if Eddie was the culprit, he had an accomplice. Lillian also told me Mac knew what they were doing, which was a relief.
“We have a few possibilities, but Lill’s too tired to figure it out right now.”
“Are you coming to the party?”
“I’m not sure,” Josephine said. “If Lill’s still sleeping, I may not wake her.”
