Getting Old Can Kill You: A Mystery

by Rita Lakin

  Evvie blows out her breath. “Whew, that didn’t go too well. What do we do now?”

  “Nothing. We just have to let them play it out and hope they don’t end up in too much of a mess.”

  We continue our walk.

  “By the by,” Evvie says. “Joe and I made a decision last night.”

  I smile. “I don’t know how many more decisions I can take in one morning.”

  Evvie puts her arm around my waist as we keep going.

  Uh-oh, this must be serious. “Break it to me gently.”

  “Joe and I had a long talk. The honeymoon trip brought up a lot of memories of our earlier years when we were still happy. Joe admitted he was homesick and wanted to see our daughter and the grandkids.”

  I know where this is going and I hold my breath.

  “We’re going back up north. He wants to spend some time with our family.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me why. “Do you have any plan for how long?”

  “We’re thinking maybe a month’s visit, but if Joe wants to stay …” She hesitates. “Then, only God knows when we’ll be back.”

  We turn and hug each other. I feel myself start to tear up. I attempt to make a joke of it. “So all the rats are leaving the sinking ship.”

  “Not all, dear sister. You still have Jack, and the two of you can build a better mousetrap!”

  We giggle through our tears.

  “I hope you don’t mind our meeting in your apartment.” Arlene has repeated this three times since she walked over from Phase Three to visit with me. She may be having a problem, but she walks with regal posture. She’s as impeccably dressed as always. Her blond pageboy is perfect, not a hair out of place. She wears a peach-colored skirt and top that look as sparkling new as if she’d just bought them. Of course her high heels match.

  I am in my usual variation of beige slacks and white T-shirt and sneakers.

  We’re sitting at my tiny kitchen table having tea while she works up to telling me what’s wrong. We’ve already discussed my honeymoon and events going on at Lanai Gardens. And small bits of information about the new European patisserie that just opened. I wait patiently.

  Jack sent himself off on an errand. Even though she said she wouldn’t mind his being there, we both thought she’d be more comfortable just the two of us. Women talk, he assumed.

  She takes a deep breath and I think she’s ready. She speaks softly.

  “Did you ever have a nightmare over and over again and it finally happens in real life?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Well, I did and I’m living my nightmare right now. You may have heard me mention my late husband, Robby Simon, and our two children.”

  I nod at that. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, Robby wasn’t my first husband. I was married before to a man named Edward. He was a doctor. We were married for five years and he dumped me for my very best friend, Joyce.” She laughs and the sound is brittle. “I guess I’m not too good at picking men. Robby cheated on me as well, but his mistress wasn’t a woman. He turned out to be a gambler and pretty much wiped us out financially. He died shooting craps in his hotel room in Vegas.”

  I didn’t mention that I’d heard about that from the girls when they were involved with that phony guru and his Dead Husbands Club last month, when Arlene’s husband’s “spirit” supposedly visited her.

  I refill her empty tea cup and she continues.

  “He was a rebound marriage. My true love was Edward. When I caught Edward in bed with Joyce, I behaved very badly. I’m ashamed to say I even picked up a knife to threaten them.”

  She bows her head not wanting to face me with those embarrassing words. “In all these years, I never even told my children of my shame. Bobby and Nicky would be horrified.”

  It’s hard to believe this elegant, soft-spoken lady had ever felt such rage. The Arlene we’ve seen is a self-sufficient loner. A situation like that could make any woman lose control. Anger is a powerful emotion.

  She continues. “Last week while you were away, I was aware of a moving van unloading. I almost fainted when I saw who was moving into my very own building. Joyce Steiner. Herself. My God, the last time I saw her was over fifty-five years ago! I almost didn’t recognize her. I had to look more carefully. But it’s her. I recognized those eyes. The way she tosses that red hair. The way she carries herself. I knew. That’s why I needed to talk to someone and I thought about you.”

  She leans back in her chair. It’s finally out.

  “Arlene, dear, what is it you want from me?”

  “I can’t believe the strength of my feelings. I don’t want any part of her in my life again and I don’t know how to handle this.”

  She turns to me and I can see the sadness in her eyes. “I need your wisdom, Gladdy. I need you to help me sort out what to do.”

  I sip at my tea. “Did she see you?”

  “I don’t think so. The minute I was sure it was Joyce, I ran away until I saw the empty van leave. Then I rushed up to my apartment. I’ve been avoiding her since then.”

  “I’m sorry that you’re so troubled.”

  “I can’t seem to help it. I snuck downstairs and saw which apartment she moved into. You want to hear irony? When we lived in the same apartment building back then, I lived on the third floor and she, right under me, on the second. And it’s the same now. As if history were repeating itself.”

  This puzzles me. I didn’t know of anyone moving out of that Phase Three building.

  I ask, “Do you know who had been living there before?”

  “I don’t know, but I learned it’s a sublet and she pays the money to one of the neighbors, Leah Andrews, who lives across the way.”

  How strange. Leah’s brother, Seymour, lives in an apartment on that floor. Can it be? Not likely. Seymour never goes anywhere. He’s painfully shy; he barely leaves his apartment. Leah even does all his food shopping and cooking for him. But if Leah is collecting money …?

  Arlene breaks into my thoughts. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep creeping around like a spy to make sure I don’t run into her.”

  “You never had any contact with Joyce throughout all these years?”

  “No, why would I? She destroyed my marriage and changed my life forever. But I did read in the obituaries that Edward died six years ago. Apparently he became quite famous and I suppose very rich.”

  “First I need to ask you, what do you think you should do? What would make you comfortable?”

  Arlene twists the handkerchief she has in her hands. “How can I continue to live in Lanai Gardens if she’s here?” She tears up. “I know it sounds ridiculous after fifty-plus years, but the minute I saw her, I knew I still haven’t forgiven her for what she did to me.”

  “Try a worst-case scenario. What if you do meet up with each other? What do you think will happen?”

  Arlene fairly stutters, “I don’t know. I could hope that Joyce won’t even recognize me, but she will, I know it. I don’t want to speak to her.”

  I reach out and take Arlene’s hands in mine. “Sometimes it might be a good thing to be forced to face a problem head-on. You’ve been living with this unhappiness so long; maybe this is an opportunity to get over it. I’m not a psychologist and perhaps you might want to make an appointment with one—”

  She interrupts me. “No, please. Just help me and I’ll take your advice.”

  I nod, thinking. “I have an idea. Tomorrow, Friday night, is our monthly get-together party in the rec room. You know how we always do this with newcomers. I think she’ll be invited. Test it out. Maybe you’ll be surprised at how you’ll feel. Half a century is a very long time.”

  “What do I do if she comes up to me?”

  “Undoubtedly, Joyce will be introduced to our neighbors. She will be quite civilized, I’m sure. Maybe you’ll be surprised and seeing her will be anticlimactic. We’re all much older by now. What was important years ago might seem different to you when you face her once again.”<
br />
  “You’ll stand next to me all evening?”

  “I promise.”

  There’s a polite knocking at the door. I go to answer it. It’s Jack. He’s carrying a bag and something in it smells wonderful. “Just wanted to know if it was okay to come back. Otherwise I’ll leave these goodies and take a powder again.”

  Arlene appears in the doorway. “No, please stay. I was about to leave.”

  He walks in and lifts a tempting chocolate éclair out of his package. “Not until you’ve sampled one of these.”

  I’m already taking plates out of the cupboard. “Yes, Arlene, why not?”

  She smiles. “Is that from the new European patisserie?”

  “It sure is.” He passes the package to me and heads for the teapot, ready to heat it up again.

  I nod to Arlene to sit back down.

  She shrugs. “You talked me into it. How can I resist?”

  We three settle down to indulge. Jack is already charming her into smiling.

  I’m not sure I gave her the right advice. I didn’t know what else to say. She surprised me. She’s not at all like the person one might think she is by her dress and her demeanor. She’s quiet. She’s gentle. And amazingly shy. I hope she won’t get hurt again.

  Sophie calls out to Ida, who is moving at a swift pace, “I don’t like this street. It’s creepy.”

  Bella clings to her arm. “Yeah, and I’ve got a stomachache. Who knew it would take riding in three different buses to get here? And besides, it’s time for my nap.”

  Ida turns her head, but doesn’t stop. “We’re almost there, so stop kvetching.”

  She doesn’t want to admit that she didn’t expect the school to be located in such a bad area. Everything looks run-down. The gutters are filled with dirt and flying newspapers. The garbage cans smell as if they don’t get picked up that often. She walks even faster to get them off the street as quickly as possible.

  But she’s not about to back off. She’s the sergeant. They’re her troops.

  She looks at the piece of paper with the address on it once again. They’re in the 900 block. One more street to go.

  Sophie scratches at her arms. “I feel bugs around here. Why did you lie to Gladdy? We aren’t registered yet. You said we’d come down just to look the place over.”

  Bella parrots Sophie. “I already looked. Let’s go home.”

  Ida stops, her hands go to her hips, showing her annoyance. “I did a lot of research to pick this place and we’re not going home until we see it.”

  Bella clutches Sophie harder. “But I’m scared. Everybody around here looks like they need a bath.”

  “Right,” Ida says sarcastically. “Dirty people will hurt you.”

  Sophie adds, “I’m itchy, too.”

  “Just listen to me. Walk in the center of the street, not near any doorways and not next to the gutter. Then you’ll be okay.”

  Bella asks, “What’s that supposed to do?”

  Ida says, “I read it somewhere. If you’re in a dangerous place, if you stay in the center, they can’t grab you out of a doorway or from a moving car.”

  The two squeeze even closer. “Thanks a lot,” Sophie says, her turn to be cynical. “That really makes me feel better.”

  What is she going to do with them? They’re impossible. Ida points. “There, I see the address.”

  The girls scurry to catch up to her. Ida stops in front of an old brick building with a scratched-up green-painted doorway and a small number over it. Ida senses it’s seen better days, that’s for sure.

  Sophie sniffs her disappointment. “This is it? Where?”

  Ida indicates a little note next to a bell. It says in handwritten scribbled letters, “Mike Gatkes. One flight up. Ring bell.”

  Sophie is disappointed. This building isn’t what she expected. “It doesn’t mention anything about a detective agency.”

  Bella cowers. “You said don’t go near any doorways.”

  Ida ignores them and rings the bell as Sophie and Bella look alarmed.

  “Who’s down there?” a voice calls from the tinny speaker.

  “Ida Franz, Sophie Meyerbeer, and Bella Fox,” Ida announces. “We have an appointment.”

  A rasping buzzer rings. For a moment Ida hesitates, says a silent prayer, then pushes the door open.

  The flight of stairs in the small, dark entry looks steep and poorly lit. A sign on the wall with an arrow pointing up says “Gatkes, one flight up.”

  Sophie says, “Where’s the elevator?”

  Ida looks. “I don’t think there is one.”

  They climb up the steps slowly, all of them clutching the banister with both hands to help pull themselves up. Bella, in the rear, is muttering under her breath.

  Ida, annoyed, asks Sophie, “What’s she mumbling about?”

  Sophie says, “She hopes he won’t kill us.”

  A rickety front door is open. A voice calls out to them, “Come on in, ladies. Be right with you.”

  The girls enter slowly, not knowing what to expect. They peer around the office in awe. To Ida, it looks like furniture she’s seen in photos of the 1920s or ’30s. There’s an old beat-up desk. The faded gray sofa is probably filled with horsehair. She’d bet the muddy-colored rug hasn’t been cleaned in years. Nor has the place been painted, either.

  “He looks like an actor,” Bella whispers, staring at a photo of a man she assumes is Mike Gatkes holding some kind of trophy.

  Sophie comments, “An actor who plays serial killers.”

  Bella asks, “What does a serial killer look like?”

  Sophie nods. “Him.”

  Ida whispers, “Shh, he’s coming.”

  Mike Gatkes comes out of his kitchen with three bottles of water and hands them out to the exhausted girls. They drink greedily, gulping them down.

  Ida’s first glance at Mike is almost enough to make her turn them around and run back down, but she knows the girls are breathing hard already and need to rest. Ida notes that he has a head of black spiky hair that looks as if he never combs it. He’s short, very muscular, desperately needs a shave, and wears old odd-looking clothes and scuffed shoes. He does seem dangerous. Has she made a mistake?

  “Knew those flights would be a killer. Sorry about that, ladies.” He sounds friendly enough.

  Bella says, “I think I counted thirty-nine steps.”

  “Like the movie,” Mike comments, smiling, as if he were an old buddy reminiscing. “Remember that one with Robert Donat? There are only fifteen steps, but it probably felt like thirty-nine.”

  Bella is puzzled. “I don’t remember an actor named donut.”

  Ida tries to make small talk as she finishes the water. “Your office looks like a movie set.”

  Mike beams. “Well detected. You’re close. It’s meant to be a replica of the movie office of San Francisco’s famous author Dashiell Hammett. You know, The Maltese Falcon.”

  “Really,” says Ida to be polite. “How interesting.” As if she would ever read books like that or even see the movie.

  He proudly points out the oak armchair, the scarred desk, the brass ashtray. He grins. “Some say I even look a little like Humphrey Bogart, who played the lead in the movie.”

  Ida hmmphs to herself. What’s he so proud of? Bogart was no beauty.

  Sophie can’t resist. “Gladdy should be here. She loves reading mysteries.”

  Ida doesn’t want to let her talk about their former associates. “Well, Mr. Gatkes, shall we get down to business? Would you like to tell us a little about yourself?”

  “Call me Mike. The photos on my wall tell my stories. Here I am with the mayor of Miami giving me a commendation.” He points to the news photo of a man snarling as he’s being arrested. “You heard of the famous Son of Sam case? Well, I captured Son of Sheldon. Scared the hell out of women in Boca.”

  He continues with other startling captures. “Remember the Fort Lauderdale Causeway terrorist? He snuck into his victims’ houses via b
oat. I caught that big fish.” He moves quickly from one action photo to another.

  The girls are finally impressed. Ida still has reservations, but he seems to know what he’s talking about.

  Mike continues his tour. He takes them into the next room, which is a classroom with a chalkboard. “This is where I teach you the ropes. What a PI does. What kind of training you need. How to use firearms. How to handle evidence. Scene of the crime—what to look for. How to write reports. What clothing to wear.”

  He goes on and on.

  “Once you’re ready, your first assignment will be an actual case to solve. It will come from the list of clients I already have as a PI.” He throws them a bone, so to speak. “Maybe you’ll learn so much, you’ll be able to even solve one of my cold cases.” Not that Ida believes it.

  She cuts to the chase. “What’s your fee?”

  He smiles. Ida notices his teeth are yellow and crooked. “First thing. You’re entitled to your senior citizen discount.”

  At Ida’s hesitation he winks and adds, “And for you ladies, a group price cut as well—a threefer.”

  That’s more like it. She can make this work. She’ll show Gladdy the real way to be a PI.

  Mike is already moving to the next room. “Ready to try on trench coats, ladies?”

  Bella and Sophie can hardly wait. Going shopping? He said the magic words.

  Ida wonders, Where are the other students?

  Evvie and Joe are the life of the party. I watch with tears in my eyes as everyone in the rec room is toasting their upcoming trip up north. Some know the truth about Joe. Others might guess. But all are laughing and being positive about the future.

  Arlene clings to me like Saran Wrap. We stand off to one side. She visibly shakes each time the recreation room door opens.

  Jack has brought us cookies and lemonade, but he’s still keeping his distance. Arlene needs only me right now.

  The girls haven’t put in an appearance yet, but I’m sure they’ll be here. They never miss a Friday night party.

  Well, speak of the little devils. Here they come. What’s that expression? They look like the cat that swallowed the canary. Or should I say the cats. Very pleased with themselves, they are.