by Rita Lakin
“Are you saying women aren’t able to feel that deeply about a husband?”
“Yes, of course they can, but, again, it’s different somehow. These friends are the true soul mates. Usually ones you’ve had most of your life. They’ve seen you vulnerable and know your weaknesses and you are loved despite them. In fact, loved even more so for that very reason. It’s about the person who will never judge you, or let you down. No matter what life throws at you, that one person is the ballast that you hold on to. If you’re afraid, that person is willing to slay the dragons for you.”
Jack reaches out for my hand. “That’s quite a touching description.”
I shrug. “I don’t know how better to explain it.”
“Are you saying that Arlene took losing Joyce harder than losing Dr. Ed?”
“I actually think so. For example, Evvie and I have been together all of our lives. There’s only a two-year difference in our ages. I know just about everything there is to know concerning her. And vice versa. We have a solid history of trust and understanding. If I lost her, it would be unbearable.”
I reach over and pinch his cheek playfully. “In simple terms, we’re able to be our real selves, the selves nobody else can possibly see.”
Jack tosses his papers aside and gets up. “I do understand what you mean. When I was growing up it was me, Charlie, and Dave who had our special friendships. We promised to be there for one another forever. I remember when we even took blood oaths on it. I can still see the expression on my mother’s face when I came home with those bloodstains on my hand and shirt.”
“What happened to those friendships?”
Jack shrugs. “I guess we just lost touch.”
“The librarian in me studied the history of women over a long period of time. Men were the rulers, women their chattel. Men were dangerous. Women had only each another to depend on. They developed a secret code, a way to survive through friendship. It exists even today.”
He reaches for my arms and lifts me up out of my slatted rocker. “Well,” he says, “I can’t make up for not having known you forever, but there’s one advantage we husbands have that the best friends lack.”
“And what’s that, my darling?”
With that he kisses me lovingly and sweetly. And what a wonderful feeling it is.
“Makes up for it?” he asks, catching his breath.
“It certainly comes close.” I move in for another of the same.
The doorbell rings.
“I knew it was too quiet. Maybe the girls are finally behaving as they did, BH.”
“BH?”
“Before husband.”
As I head for the door I suggest he make us another two Bloody Marys.
But it isn’t the girls. It’s Leah Andrews, in tears. “Are you still in the private eye business, Gladdy?” she says before she’s even through the door.
“Yes, yes, I am.”
“Then I want to hire you.”
I call into the kitchen, “Honey, make that three Bloody Marys.”
We walk Leah back with us to the Florida room to continue to enjoy the breeze. Jack and I make small talk to try to help Leah get over her nervousness. Her hands are shaking. Isn’t the weather fine? Nice party the other night, that kind of thing. I can tell the Bloody Mary is having an effect on her. She finally leans back against the couch pillows as Jack and I bend forward on our patio chairs.
“I’ve never hired a private eye person before,” Leah says with trepidation.
I try to make it easy on her. “Just think of me as your neighbor who can also help people with their problems.”
“Of course you realize it’s about Seymour. I’ve waited and waited to hear from him with no word at all, and now this.”
She digs down into her small clutch purse on her lap and retrieves two postcards. And hands them to us. “Can you believe it? These came this week. Here’s a picture of Seymour in Fiji. Another in Australia.”
Indeed they are. In one, Seymour stands in a rain forest, wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Fiji is embossed on a baseball cap. The other Seymour photo is a variation, different T-shirt, and different shorts. The cap announces Aussie. He is posed in front of the Sydney Opera House. One says, “Wish you were here,” the other, “I saw Carmen last night.” In the second photo, Seymour seems to be getting a tan.
Now Leah can’t hold back her tears. “How could this be? The man needed me to tie his shoelaces. Even at sixty, he is an innocent, clueless man-child.”
For a moment she sobs. We wait until she’s able to speak again.
“It was an accident. At school when he was eight years old. Children were pushing on the staircase. He fell down a whole flight … he was never the same again.”
I hand her a tissue. “I’m so sorry … I didn’t know.”
“I’ve never told anyone. After my parents died, who else was there to take care of him? I did the best I could, but it was hard. He had a few jobs over the years. Simple things, like sweeping up a store.
“This was his life. All he ever did was take long walks or else he stayed in and watched all those silly reality shows on TV.”
She becomes more agitated. “To just up and travel by himself? When did he ever get a passport? The few trips we took, and those were nearby, I had to pack his suitcase, because he couldn’t manage it. And yet his suitcase is gone. And most of his clothes. He must have packed it. Somehow.”
Leah stops, needs to take a break, then she continues.
“How could he plan? How did he know how to advertise for a sublet? Where did he get the money? He doesn’t own a credit card. How did he manage to get to the end of the world?” She is beside herself. “How could he not tell me?”
We examine the postcards. They look authentic. The postmarked stamps are real. She hands us his original note. As she mentioned, all he says is he’ll be back in about six months and he sublet to this Mrs. Joyce Steiner.
Jack comments, “Nothing about how he’s traveling. Is he on a tour? A cruise? He doesn’t mention hotels.”
I ask, “Has he ever done anything like this in his whole life?”
Leah digs back in her mind. “Well, he did run away from the special school he was attending when he was thirteen. We found him at our local Publix helping shoppers carry their bags home for small change. But that was because he was afraid of some bullies in his class.”
Jack comments, “He looks quite happy and healthy in these photos.”
“He’s safe, from what we can tell. That’s the important part,” I add.
She uses the tissue to dab at her eyes. “I don’t know what to think.”
I put a caring hand on her shoulder. “So what is it you want us to do, Leah? You’re not able to just wait until he contacts you directly at some point.”
“I just need proof to know he’s safe or to have him call me and tell me what’s going on. I need to hear my dear brother’s voice.”
We look at our neighbor with compassion. She is truly suffering.
Jack says, “Well, there are a few things we’ll be able to do once we get some facts. If he’s on a ship or in a hotel, we can check where he might be. But without any real information, this could take a lot of time. By now, he’s probably in a different country, so trying to track him in these two places wouldn’t help.”
I add, “We can talk to Joyce Steiner and learn how she found this sublet. Maybe he told her of his plans.”
Leah gets up. “Anything you can do to find him, please, I beg you.”
We walk her to the door.
“Anything.”
In full sobs by now, she leaves us.
For a few moments we are silent, our minds on what Leah has told us.
I take a deep breath. “Without having anything specific, finding Seymour will be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.”
“Just about. But we can start with asking their neighbors if anyone ever saw Seymour leave. And how.”
Jack starts to co
llect the Bloody Mary glasses. “Seymour is actually a missing person. But the cops won’t take it seriously because there’s no foul play. He hasn’t been abducted. Is there really a case here?”
I gather up our breakfast dishes. “Here’s something to think about. Maybe Seymour doesn’t want to be found.”
“I think I see it. Here it comes.” Ida waves her arms to indicate to the driver of the car that they are the people who are waiting to be picked up. They are standing at the front gate of Lanai Gardens. Far enough away so that their Phase Two neighbors won’t know their business. Sophie and Bella have dressed prettily in twin outfits again for their first official detective class. Ida is in businesslike black.
The small lime green auto makes its way over to them.
Sophie frowns. “It’s not much of a car. And look at that awful color.”
Ida says, “It’s better than three buses and costs a lot less than a taxi.”
Sophie squints. “I don’t see DWW printed on it.”
Ida, annoyed, says, “They don’t work that way. They’re private drivers with their own cars who volunteer to take seniors around for a very cheap price.”
Bella is nervous. “So how do we know it’s them? It could be some robber or killer.”
The car pulls up in front of them and stops. Ida says, “I called Drivers with Wheels and they said they’d send a car to this address in fifteen minutes and it’s fifteen minutes now. Who else could it be?”
Sophie adds, “So ask for his credentials.”
A young man jumps out of the front seat. Ida guesses he’s about twenty. He’s small and skinny, with curly black hair and dark eyes. He is all smiles, revealing one gold tooth. The Levi’s he’s wearing are torn at the knees, his scuffed once-white sneakers are untied, and he has on a T-shirt that says “Kiss me, I’m a hot Cubano.”
The girls stare.
“Buenos días, ladies. Your driver is here at your service. These coming with you?”
Without waiting for an answer, he quickly lifts the three tote bags off each of their shoulders, raises the front compartment, and sets them in his tiny front trunk.
Bella’s eyes grow wild. “What happened to your motor?”
The young man laughs. “It’s in the back.”
Bella is confused. “How can a car be backward?”
Sophie asks with trepidation, “Will we all fit in?”
The young man says, “Not to worry, my little bug has a big heart.” With that he opens the other three doors. “Hop right in.”
Bella moves closer to Sophie. “What did he say about bugs?”
Ida practically shoves Bella into the backseat. “That’s a Volkswagen. Move it.”
Ida decides to sit up front with the driver. Sophie gets into the back next to Bella. It’s a tight squeeze.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Ricardo Leon, but please call me Rico. I aim to please. Me and my car—we may be small but we are mighty.”
Ida glances at the thin tray between her and the driver. A half-eaten sandwich lies there, smelling of onions and garlic. Along with a half-empty beer can. She pulls far away from him until she’s leaning against her door.
The driver turns so he can face all of them. “Seat belts. Seat belts. We are a safety-first automobile.”
He sees Ida staring with horror at his lunch. He shrugs. “Not to worry. I was almost finished anyway.” He takes what’s left of the food and squashes it back into its bag and stuffs it into a small trash holder.
Ida asks with trepidation, “What do you mean, safety? That’s a beer can! Have you been drinking?”
He shakes his head. “No, that is not real beer. Nonalcoholic. See, look at the label. Coors makes it. Not to worry.” He turns to look at the two in back. “Do you like music?”
Sophie and Bella, sitting stiff as rods, manage a slight nod.
With that Rico hits a switch and music pours out from multiple speakers, loud enough to cause immediate deafness. Rico waves his hands with an imaginary baton. “You like?”
Ida pokes him in the shoulder. “No, no, too loud. Forget the music. Just drive.”
Rico sadly complies. “You do not like the Buena Vista Social Club? Have you not heard of Rubén González?”
Bella pipes up, “Maybe you have some Eddie Fisher? You know … ‘Oh! My Papa’?”
Rico looks at her as if she’s speaking another language. “No, señora, the Fisher’s papa is not in my iTunes playlist.”
“Are we there yet?” Bella asks in a small voice.
Sophie whispers, “We haven’t even left.”
Rico turns to them. “No problema,” he says and with that he takes off with screaming, smoking tires.
Bella whispers back, “We shoulda taken the buses.”
Rico keeps turning his head when he talks to Sophie and Bella. Ida keeps pushing his face back so he can keep his eyes on the road. He is excited. “So you are lady detectives. This is so thrilling to me. I myself have dreams of going into the business of solving crimes. What was your best case?”
The girls by now are having a wonderful time. Sophie and Bella are enjoying the nonalcoholic beer that Rico is sharing with them. He has a cooler filled with cans that sits on the floor under Ida’s feet. They are feeling quite cheerful, as if there really was liquor in the cans. Ida, of course, will drink only bottled water.
Rico has managed to charm them with his cuteness and enthusiasm. He wants to hear all about the cases they solved. They have been listing past successes, such as the Grandpa Bandit case. Romeo, the senior killer of elderly ladies. The eighty-five-year-old wife who was spying on her ninety-year-old husband, thinking he was cheating on her.
Sophie says, “My favorite was when we were in New York and we captured a thief who was stealing from the church poor box. We had to go underground to get him.”
Ida corrects her. “That’s undercover.”
“Whatever,” Sophie tosses back at her. She is feeling no pain.
Bella sits happily sucking on her nonbeer can, her eyes glazed.
Rico beams. “You are amazing ladies. So why do you need to be taking these lessons, since you are already experts?”
The girls look at one another. Ida decides to be the one who answers. “We want to learn more, so we can be better at our work.”
Sophie and Bella nod their agreement.
“And,” Ida adds with pride, “we are starting our very own company, Ida Franz and Associates.”
Sophie hits her elbow against the back of the passenger seat, making Ida jump. “Stop saying that! It isn’t decided yet!”
Stopping at a light frees Rico to grab hard-boiled eggs from his cooler. And a napkin for the shells. He hands them out. Ida refuses the offer. The others hungrily accept.
Ida shivers nervously every time he reaches under her feet and takes his eyes off the road.
The light changes. Rico takes off like a shot.
Rico is practically leaping out of his seat. “What about another partner? How about me? I am a man of many sides. I can do everything. I am like a man, invisible. You will never regret it. You learn upstairs with Señor Gatkes. I learn from you. We make a good team.”
Ida holds up her hands. “Rico, you are going too fast for us, and I’m not just talking about your driving.”
“Está bien. All right. We take one bebé step at a time. First, I am your number one driver. You call my private number.” He reaches into a mess of papers and maps under his seat and retrieves a crumpled business card. “Day or night, you call, I am there.”
He grins with his one gold tooth glittering at them. “Is a deal?”
He pulls up in front of Gatkes’ building.
Ida says very quickly, “We teach you. You drive us free of charge.”
Rico grins. “It’s a deal.”
Having finished with the Sunday papers and enjoyed our brunch, Jack and I head out for our morning dip in the pool. I’m not looking forward to it without Evvie and Joe here. And surprisingly, th
e girls are absent today. A neighbor already stopped us before we entered the pool gate and reported having spotted the three of them hurrying down the path toward the main gate, trying to look inconspicuous.
Inconspicuous? Not a chance. That’s a joke at Lanai Gardens. Somehow, anywhere at any given hour, there will be a neighbor who is looking out the window or on a stroll, whose sharp eyes pick up any unusual behavior and immediately the condo jungle drums beat out the news.
And sure enough, some guy walking his dog early this morning in Phase One was the tattler of unusual activity. The girls are sneaking out? Where are they going? Why aren’t they swimming? Inquiring minds want to know. Which means everybody.
Sometimes I wonder why we don’t swim at a different time or go to a pool in another Phase just so we can have some privacy. But then again, that news will also spread and feelings will be hurt. They should put up a sign, “Changes not welcome here.”
One thing or another kept us from swimming all week, so Jack and I brace ourselves for the lunatic attack that awaits us from good old Hy Binder when we finally return to our daily routine. We turn the corner around the showers, reaching the pool and, sure enough, here’s Hy. Like a tiger lying in wait, ready to spring.
“Well, look who’s come to join us this morning. It’s the honeymooners.”
No one wants to pay attention to Hy, except for his parrot-wife, Lola, who adores every squawk out of his mouth. As does Sol, who is his best buddy. But Hy is too loud to ignore.
“Continued your honeymoon back here? Hiding away up in the Chez Gladdy bedroom?”
I poke Jack gently as he’s about to take Hy on. I whisper, “Ignore him.” After years of living through Hy’s jokes and simplistic attacks, one stops paying attention. Jack, being a newcomer to our Phase, wants to take him on. Why bother? Why waste one’s time and energy?
We make our way to our usual spots.
Hefty Tessie is swimming laps as usual. Hubby Sol sits at the edge, dangling his feet, watching his wife swim. This was not a marriage made in heaven. Tessie ran after him but he was too slow to get away.
