The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One

by Ann Warner

“But you’re presenting the book to Eddie, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely not. Myrtle’s doing that.” Josephine patted my arm. “You don’t have to worry, you know. Eddie won’t have any idea this isn’t all Myrtle’s idea. And nobody knows the real reason we collected their handwriting.”

  “If you miss the party, I’ll come and give you a full report.”

  “Good. In that case, maybe I will give it a pass.”

  ~ ~ ~

  As soon as most of the residents had arrived for the party, Myrtle fetched Eddie and had him stand next to her in the front of the room. He looked around as if trying to figure out what was going on, and I realized everyone had managed to keep the project a secret.

  He said something to Myrtle. She grinned at him and continued to grip his arm.

  “Okay, everyone. Well, here we are, gathered to hear wonderful, amazing news.” Myrtle let go of Eddie and clasped her hands together like a silent-film ingénue.

  Eddie shifted his feet, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. As more boisterous residents began calling, “Speech, speech,” he took a half step away from Myrtle.

  Myrtle waved her arms, shushing them. “As I was saying, we are here today to announce the results of the project you’ve all contributed to.”

  Eddie cocked his head. I could tell he just wanted her to get on with it. As did we all.

  Myrtle turned to face Eddie. “After you told me about your daughter, I thought and thought how to help with Sara’s medical expenses. And then it came to me. Set up a fund at Children’s Hospital in her name.” She flung her hands out in a ta-da motion and Eddie flinched, his expression segueing from incomprehension to anger to panic.

  He cleared his throat. “A fund, you say?”

  “Yes. We’ve established a fund that will not only pay any expenses for Sara not covered by your insurance, but it can also be used for other children. Everyone here has contributed to it.” She gazed at Eddie with a satisfied smile.

  “Other children?” Eddie cleared his throat again, his expression that of a man who’d just received very bad news. Which he had, of course, since there was no Sara.

  “We’ve raised $5,000. What do you say to that?”

  Myrtle held up a large presentation check that she swung from side to side. She gestured to Eddie to take one end and Barry, our resident photography guy, jumped to his feet and started snapping pictures.

  “Um, that’s . . . wow. I hardly know what to say.”

  “We just want you to know, Eddie, that we’re here to help so you won’t have to worry so much.”

  “I’m, ah, I’m blown away. This is amazing.”

  I could see Eddie was beginning to catch his balance.

  “Thank you all. So much.” Eddie choked up on the last word and reached for a napkin to dab at his eyes, which I was certain were perfectly dry. It was, all in all, quite a performance.

  “That’s okay, Eddie,” Myrtle said in a soothing tone of voice. “We know how relieved you must be. As for us, we feel so privileged to be able to help you. And Sara.”

  There was exuberant clapping and more demands that Eddie give a speech. Myrtle took charge of the check and laid it aside, and then she told everyone to shush and supplemented that order with another vigorous waving of hands and clanking of bracelets. Someone finally picked up a fork and tapped it against a glass, and the room quieted.

  “Yes, well, thank you, thank you all.” He took a step away, and Myrtle reached out and snagged his arm.

  “Just a minute, young man. We have something else for you. Something all of us also contributed to.”

  Barry lowered his camera long enough to hand her the book, which she held out to Eddie.

  “We’ve all written words of encouragement, and we’ve put them together in this book that we hope will comfort Sara, and you, as she undergoes her treatments.”

  She held the book out to Eddie, whose expression had such a desperate quality, I felt briefly sorry for him. Then I reminded myself there was no Sara.

  One of the deafer residents shouted at Eddie to read something from the book. His jaw clenching, Eddie suggested he pass it around instead.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Myrtle chirped. “We have more copies we’ll be giving the hospital. We can pass those around.” She walked over to one of the tables, which was when I noticed a pile of the books.

  After more muttering of thank-yous and attempts to step out of the limelight, Eddie finally escaped and Myrtle brought the formal proceedings to a close. One of the kitchen staff cut the cake, and slices were passed around. Mr. Souter arrived at that point and came over to where I was sitting.

  “Is this the book Josephine Bartlett’s been putting together?” he said as Myrtle walked over with a copy.

  Myrtle handed him the book, and he paged through it.

  Smiling, he handed it to me. “I see we both made contributions.”

  It occurred to me that he would have known the whole project was bogus since Eddie is his nephew. So, what story did they tell him?

  “We’re hoping this will raise Sara’s spirits,” I said, attempting to find out.

  He gave me a blank look. “Sara? Who’s Sara?”

  I switched tactics. “Just a child Myrtle knows who has cancer.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Josephine did a nice job with this.” He pointed at the book and then stood, giving those nearby what I’ve heard Josephine call his pope smile-and-wave, although he did at least walk up to Myrtle to shake her hand before he left.

  It’s as much as he ever does when we have a party. At our birthday parties, he greets the people who have birthdays that month, but I’ve never seen him share a piece of cake or conversation with anyone.

  It occurred to me it could have been quite interesting if he’d arrived a few minutes earlier to this party, when Eddie was still shifting from foot to foot at the front of the room and Myrtle was prattling on about Souter’s nonexistent grandniece.

  ~ ~ ~

  Shortly after I returned to my office from the party, Candace stuck her head in.

  “We have a potential new resident taking a look at an apartment, and the family has questions about our social programs. I thought since there’s nothing on your schedule at the moment, you could speak to them? They’re waiting for you in 145 LarkTulip.”

  “Of course. I’m happy to do that,” I said, although strictly speaking, the care and feeding of potential residents was one of the few things that seemed to be in Candace’s purview.

  “As soon as possible would be good,” Candace said, waving her fingers before withdrawing both them and her head from my doorway.

  My plan had been to leave work early today since I’d had a couple of late nights this week. Sighing, because meetings with potential new residents could sometimes drag on, I made my way to the Meadowlark-Tulip wing. When I knocked on the door of 145, it swung open abruptly and someone grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside. The door slammed shut behind me.

  “I want to know whose idea that was,” Eddie said, his voice shaking with fury.

  “What idea?” I tried to free my arm, but that made him tighten his grip.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. A damn fund for kids with cancer and a fricking book?”

  Saliva speckled my face. My heart was racing, and my mind was a black whirl of terror. Abruptly, he let go of my arm and shoved me. I stumbled back against the wall, banging my head hard enough to see stars.

  “I’m waiting, bitch.”

  He stood over me, and I resisted the impulse to curl into a protective ball, knowing it never works. Not with someone as angry as Eddie. Besides, didn’t I spend the last ten years becoming proficient in tae kwon do to prepare for just such an eventuality as this? Although, every time I went to a practice session, I hoped I’d never have to use it that way.

  Eddie began to pace, muttering curses. Slowly, I pushed myself into a standing position. He whirled, and his arm shot out. Without conscious thought, I blocke
d the blow and smashed the heel of my hand into his face. He backed away, holding his hand up to his nose, which was spurting blood.

  Then with a roar, he launched himself at me. I sidestepped, twisting and aiming a side kick at his groin. It connected with a satisfying thunk, and he fell to his knees, grabbing for me. I skipped away, preparing for his next blow.

  It didn’t come. He remained hunched over, moaning.

  I reached for a nearby emergency cord and tugged it. Then I circled Eddie, making my way to the front door, staying out of reach. I opened the door and then stood in the doorway, ready to run if he made any sudden moves.

  When the aide arrived, I commandeered her phone and called Mac.

  While I talked to Mac, the aide rushed to Eddie’s side, no doubt thinking he was having some sort of seizure.

  He pushed her away, lumbered to his feet, and stood glaring at me. “Good thing you called the police, bitch. I’m going to see you’re charged with assault. You can kiss my ass and your job good-bye.”

  I was already shaking, and Eddie’s words made my tremors worse. He was, after all, the one with blood on his face, and bruises, albeit in places not on display. While I had . . . I glanced at my arm to find it looked fine except for a couple of indentations. The back of my head throbbed, but it wasn’t bleeding. And all the aide saw when she arrived on the scene was Eddie rolling on the floor, moaning. She didn’t see him pulling me into the apartment and attacking me.

  It was, for the second time in my life, the perfect he says, she says situation. The symmetry of that staggered me.

  All I could hope was that this time the police would believe me and not the man.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mac

  The investigation into the items reported missing from Brookside apartments hadn’t turned up much. The department’s IT guy did find a recent sale of an inverted Jenny, but it was handled by a lawyer in Indianapolis. Although the lawyer wouldn’t say who had offered the stamp for sale, he assured Dillingham it was a client of long standing whose family had owned the stamp for years.

  As for the baseball card, there were a lot of possibilities to investigate. The necklace was a better bet, since it was unique. But so far, there was no sign of it on any of the Internet auction sites or in local pawnshops.

  So dead ends all around.

  ~ ~ ~

  When Devi called, I was checking out surveillance videos, trying to identify a suspect in a smash-and-grab at a local shopping center. Montgomery is generally free from this type of problem, and we’re aggressive in addressing it when it does happen.

  But Devi’s assault report took immediate precedence. When I arrived at Brookside, I ordered the receptionist to take me to apartment 145 in the LarkTulip wing, the first I knew the wings had names.

  When my guide and I turned the final corner, I saw Devi slumped against the wall opposite an open door, her breath coming in gasps as if she’d just run a marathon. I suppressed the nearly overwhelming urge to go to her and take her in my arms.

  A woman I didn’t know was standing in the open doorway. She stepped aside and Eddie Colter lurched into view. He had blood on his face, and one eye was beginning to swell.

  “Good you’re here. Officer, arrest this woman.” He pointed at Devi. “She assaulted me.”

  I nodded at Devi, then turned to Eddie and the other woman, pulling out my notebook. I gestured for the woman to step into the hall and got her name. When I asked what happened, she glanced at Devi and Eddie with a troubled look.

  “All I know is I responded to an emergency alert from this apartment she said she’d sent.” She pointed her chin toward Devi. “When I got here, I found Eddie on the floor, in obvious distress. He said she attacked him.” Again the chin pointed toward Devi.

  I looked at Eddie, who was holding a blood-soaked handful of tissues to his nose. “Why don’t you get that nose looked at, Mr. Colter, while I get Ms. Subramanian’s statement.” I kept my tone formal, but I hoped Devi could tell I was doing it only for effect. I turned to her. “Ma’am, if you’d come with me?”

  She stepped toward me, and I gestured for her to walk ahead of me to her office. We did that without speaking. When we got there, we took the two visitors’ chairs partly facing each other, and I pulled out my recorder.

  I wanted to reassure her, but first I needed to do my job. Although I had few doubts that whatever she’d done to Eddie was in self-defense, I’m a cop, and I have to give everyone, including the Eddie Colters of the world, the benefit of the doubt.

  With my recorder on, I noted the date, time, location, and our names. Then I asked her to tell me what happened. I suspect my blood pressure shot up when she described Eddie pulling her into the empty apartment and shoving her against the wall.

  I asked her to show me her arm and found it was encircled with a developing bruise that looked all too familiar. It was the kind of injury we often see on a domestic violence call. I took a photograph as documentation. Then she turned her head and pointed at the spot that hurt. Although I couldn’t see any obvious injury, I didn’t doubt her version of events.

  When she told me what she’d done to protect herself, I wanted to cheer. But close on the heels of that feeling was one of rage, something I would have to get under control before I talked to Colter.

  I turned off the recorder. “I have to interview Colter now,” I told her.

  “I know.”

  “Why don’t you go and be with Josephine while I do that?”

  “Okay.”

  Her tone was listless, and she sat hugging herself, rocking slightly and not looking at me. I’d seen that before too. She was coming down off an adrenaline high and beginning to crash.

  Ditching my cop persona, I reached for one of her hands and held it firmly for a moment before letting go.

  “It’s going to be all right, Devi.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said. “No one else was there. It’s my word against his.”

  “That’s all I need,” I said. “I still have those receipts, you know. I think I can assure you, Colter won’t be pressing charges. In fact, if you want to charge him, I’d be happy to file the report.”

  She shook her head. “Do you know what today was? It was the party where Eddie was the guest of honor. Over half the people living at Brookside donated money to help the daughter with cancer they believe he has. If he claims I was the aggressor and got nasty and hit and kicked him when he rejected me, most of those people, who are women, by the way, will believe him.”

  “Because he’s hot, you mean? I think you cooled him off just a bit.”

  Devi didn’t smile, but she looked better than when we first sat down.

  “Come on. You go see Josephine, and I’ll talk to Colter.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Devi pointed me toward the nurses’ room, where I found Colter lying on an exam table with his nose packed with gauze, holding an ice pack to one eye but needing a second ice pack for the other eye. He was such a sorry sight, it cooled my desire to add to his injuries.

  I asked the nurse to give us privacy, and I sat in the chair she vacated. I was tempted to say something about Colter needing to pick on someone his own size, but that would be as immature as microwaving my sister’s doll had been. Still, the temptation was there.

  I turned on the recorder and stated the time, date, location, and our names. “Okay, Mr. Colter, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what happened.”

  “That Devi bitch is psycho. I hope you’ve locked her up. She’s scary, man.”

  “You’re claiming she attacked you?”

  “She sure did.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “She hit on me, but she’s not my type. When I tried to tell her that, she went bonkers.”

  “You’re saying she attacked you because you resisted her unwanted advances.”

  “Yeah, man. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “How did you happen to encounter her?”

  “Enc
ounter her? She works here. It’s hard not to encounter her. What’s hard is avoiding her.”

  “Can you tell me why you were in the LarkTulip wing this afternoon?”

  “I was . . .” He groaned. “Man, my fricking balls ache. She kicked me, you know.”

  It was a good thing Colter’s gaze was aimed at the ceiling. I suppressed a grin and waited for him to answer the question.

  “I, ah, was escorting Delores Hamilton back to her apartment.”

  “Which apartment does Delores live in?”

  “One forty-seven.”

  “But the altercation with Ms. Subramanian occurred in 145, did it not?”

  “Yes. I’d just said good-bye to Delores and closed her door when the door to 145 popped open, and Devi stuck her head out and asked to speak to me. I stepped inside and she closed the door, then she threw herself at me.”

  As the story progressed, Colter had picked up speed. He obviously thought he was on a roll.

  “Who lives in 145?”

  “It’s vacant.”

  “How did Devi get into the apartment?”

  “I expect she used one of the master keycards. We have to be able to access people’s apartments in case of emergency, and Devi knows where the masters are kept.”

  “And you do as well?”

  “Of course.” He shifted the ice pack to the other eye and groaned.

  “I understand there was a party in your honor this afternoon.”

  “Yeah. That stupid cow Myrtle got it in her head to raise money for kids with cancer.”

  “I heard that the main recipient is your daughter?”

  “Isn’t that rich?” He snorted, then winced. “I only told the old bat I had a daughter with cancer to get her off my ass.”

  “So you don’t have a daughter?”

  “Not one I know about.”

  “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since you don’t have a daughter, I expect that means the people you took money from during your shopping forays might be tempted to press charges of theft.”