Getting Old is Criminal

by Rita Lakin

  “Yes, we must hurry,” Philip agrees.

  As Evvie pulls him along, I stand and grab on to his other arm. “Yes, I must also. I’ll walk back with you.” Without missing a beat, I say, “So tragic about poor Mrs. Ferguson, wasn’t it?”

  His step falters momentarily. “Yes, indeed. She was a lovely lady.”

  He has a one-track mind, this Romeo. Everyone’s such a lovely lady.

  Philip picks up the pace. I wonder why. Can it be he doesn’t want to discuss lovely, dead Esther Ferguson?

  We reach the lobby. “Which way are you going, Gladys?” he asks. Whatever makes me think that if I say right, he’ll be going left? “Oh, toward my room.” I point with my right hand.

  “Well, then we’ll have to take leave of you.” He fairly pushes Evvie toward the left. I grip his arm a little tighter and glare at Evvie.

  “Have you ever seen that darling TV show where Donald Trump tries to hire an assistant?” Evvie knows it very well. She loves that show.

  “Isn’t it funny when he looks straight at the poor loser and says real loud, ‘You’re fired’?”

  Get it, Evelyn? You’re fired.

  With that I let go of Philip’s arm. That should leave them both reeling. I wonder what lies he’ll tell Evvie about Grecian Villas. Assuming she’ll speak to me again and let me know what he said. I’ve learned one thing about him. He doesn’t want anyone to know about his past. If he is really guilty, he must assume no one has figured it out or they’d be after him by now. Lighting this match under him should get some results. He’ll be very wary of me. We’ll see.

  And hey, sis—I hope you got my message.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  SOPHIE

  Back again. Caddy to Chevy-land to check on how Sophie is doing and maybe see if there’s anything new on the Peeper situation. Who am I kidding? After that awful scene with Evvie and Philip yesterday, I need to go to my own home once more. I need to be where I feel I am myself and not some interloper.

  I quickly check my machine for messages. Nothing, as usual, from Jack. I sigh. So near and yet so far. I won’t leave a message for him. I cannot bring myself to call and be rejected again.

  In fact, there is only one message. From Alvin Ferguson. From earlier today.

  I call him back. Unfortunately, he’s not home and I get Shirley.

  “Hi, Mrs. Ferguson,” I say cheerily. “Alvin called. What’s going on?”

  Her tone is colder than an ice pick at the North Pole. “We checked online. Quite a few charges you’ve already piled up on your house account. You must like that fancy hotel we’re keeping you in. Living high off the hog, are we?”

  I suddenly have a picture in my mind of Evvie’s new clothes. I try to bluff. “I thought we were keeping expenses down.”

  “Well, the boutique at Wilmington House certainly likes your business. Couldn’t you find a less expensive place to shop? Like WalMart? Or Cheap Haircuts?”

  I gulp. “We did buy most of our outfits at a thrift shop.”

  “Three hundred and fifty dollars for a yellow cotton sundress? Matching sandals, one hundred and five. Jogging outfit, one hundred and twenty-five. And there’s more. Thank goodness you only bought one of each. And what about that expensive hair coloring?”

  I’m dancing as fast as I can. “Look, these items were bought because we needed them in a hurry. I assure you”—another gulp—“that won’t happen again.”

  “I certainly hope not. My husband isn’t made of money, you know. He just acts like it. And what progress have you made?”

  I try to be polite. Not easy with that scratchy smoker’s voice grating like chalk on a blackboard.

  “Quite a bit. We’ve hardly been there a week, but we are in constant contact with Philip Smythe.” No lie here, I think. “We’re trying to work our way into his confidence.”

  That’s for sure. At least one of us is.

  “Just remember. No more big-ticket items.” With that, Shirley hangs up on me.

  Thanks a lot, Evvie.

  I fill Ida and Bella in on the latest news over dinner in Ida’s apartment. Sophie is too tired and listless to join us. I don’t elaborate on Evvie’s behavior toward me. I keep it light. “Since Evvie’s made the first contact, she’s the one who’s taking the first steps with Philip.”

  Ida is no fool. “Yes, I’m sure that red dress and the boa made quite a splash. Tell me more about that. And what do you do while she’s interrogating Philip?”

  “Not too much,” I admit.

  I feel I need to protect Evvie. Ida, sensing my reluctance, doesn’t ask any more questions. Bella only wants to know all about the fancy clothes everybody wears. I neglect to tell her that our Evvie is wearing some of the most expensive items of all.

  Neither one of them mentions one word about Jack. Either they’re being tactful or nothing’s going around on the grapevine, like maybe that Jack’s been seen with another woman? Stop that, I tell myself.

  I spend a restless night back in my own condo. I can’t stand the idea of being at Wilmington House right now. I am in no mood to keep playing rich widow. I’d rather be in my own home where I belong, yet I want to know what’s going on back there with my badly behaving sister. And this case that’s turning sour. My sister has upset me so much, I can’t think clearly. She’s blurred our plans by getting involved with Philip directly. Is she onto something with Philip, or is she thoughtlessly just having a fling? I want to tell Evvie about Sophie, but I will not call her. Let her realize I’m gone and she’ll phone me at some point.

  Or will she? I’m a wreck. Somehow everything’s gone bad since we took the Ferguson job. I’d like to call Alvin Ferguson up and quit. Shirley would be happy, I’ll bet.

  Instead, I try to catch up on my crossword puzzles until my eyes close. I can’t remember the last time I felt so stressed.

  I wake up to the bell ringing and a pounding on my door. My clock tells me it’s only seven A.M. I want to pull the pillow over my head. I had a terrible sleepless night, but I know I have to answer.

  Ida and Bella peer through my screen door. They look frantic.

  “What?”

  “It’s Sophie. Throw something on and get over there. Quick.”

  We each have keys to one another’s doors in case of emergencies. I hurry to Sophie’s apartment. Ida and Bella remain outside, which surprises me.

  From inside, I hear singing—or is it shrieking?

  “ ‘Some enchanted eveninggggg...’ ”

  “That’s Sophie?”

  Bella nods. “I called this morning to find out how she was feeling. No answer. I knocked on the door. And heard strange noises. So I used my key. What I saw made me hurry back out again.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “ ‘Youuuu might meet a strangerrrr...’ ”

  “Wait,” says Ida. “You need to see for yourself.”

  We walk into Sophie’s apartment to find her in the kitchen. She wears a pink bra and panties and black socks. And a cowboy hat. I have no idea where she got that hat from.

  She sees us and gives us a big grin, a rather bizzare sight considering that she is stuffing her mouth with food. The refrigerator door is wide open. The small dinette table next to her is covered. Potato chips. Cookies. Rice Krispies.’Ding Dongs. Doughnuts. Crackers and much more. Most of the packages are open.

  Coyly, as if we were playing a game, she giggles and scampers away from us. We follow her into her bedroom. And watch incredulously as she jumps onto her bed and starts hopping up and down, singing again at the top of her voice. In between giggling. And falling and then picking herself up.

  “ ‘Home, hoooome on the range. Where the deer and the buffalo roooooam,’ ” belts Sophie.

  Her immaculate bedroom is a mess. Pillows and blankets on the floor. Clothes tossed out of her closet. And more opened packages of food on her bed. Looks like all her shoes are lined up along one wall. Lined up, I notice, by color.

  “What is she doing?” Bella c
lings to Ida’s arm.

  Ida shakes her head. “I have no idea.”

  Sophie waves to us. “Jump in. The water’s fine.”

  “Are you all right?” Actually, I don’t know what to ask her. She seems very happy. And energetic. And crazy.

  “Of course I’m all right.” She plops down on the mattress, legs splayed and a dopey expression on her face. I swear she looks like she’s drunk. I don’t see any liquor or wine bottles around. And besides, Sophie never drinks.

  New song. “ ‘Oh, I danced with a dolleeee with a hole in her stockin’...’ ” She becomes confused. “What’s the next line?”

  Bella actually answers. “ ‘And her toes kept a-rockin...’ ”

  Now Sophie and Bella are doing a duet. “ ‘And her knees kept a-knockin’.’ ”

  Ida punches Bella. She shuts up, mortified.

  I search Sophie’s bedside table. “Check all the medications.”

  Ida moves to her dresser. Bella goes into her bathroom.

  Sophie thinks it’s a new game and she hops off the bed and tiptoes behind Ida. Ida looks at her, shaking her head in wonder.

  “Here’s her Lasix and her Zocur.” Ida lifts them up. Sophie tries to grab them. Ida is faster and slips them into her pocket. Sophie sulks. Then she tiptoes into the bathroom after Bella.

  In her side table drawer, I find her Sular and Cipro.

  Bella reports from the bathroom. “Here’s Requip and Cannibals.”

  “Give me that,” Sophie yelps.

  Cannibals?

  Sophie runs after Bella as she hurries out of the bathroom waving the pills up high. Sophie is pulling on Bella’s T-shirt.

  Ida looks at the frantic Bella. “Did you say cannibals?”

  “Help me,” Bella cries as she throws the pill bottles at us before Sophie can reach them.

  I catch one. Ida, the other. Sophie starts toward me. “Sophie. Sit!” I demand.

  She immediately drops down to the rug, pouting. She turns her back on us and faces her lined-up shoes, muttering at them.

  I am astounded. It’s an unmarked bottle with only the label Cannabis on it. “She’s got cannabis!”

  “I knew a cannibal couldn’t fit in that little bottle. What’s that?” Bella asks.

  “Pot! Marijuana! She’s stoned!”

  Bella is surprised at my knowledge. “How do you know stuff like that?”

  Ida, droll, answers her. “Gladdy reads a lot of books.”

  I sit on the floor next to her. “Sophie, honey, where did you get these pills?”

  She is pointing and naming her shoes. “Blackie. Brownie. Whitie, Reddie...”

  I gently take hold of her arms to get her attention. “Who gave this to you?”

  She squints to see the word, then smiles. “Dr. Friendly.”

  Why am I not surprised? “But there’s no pharmacy label.”

  She grins lopsidedly. “That’s because he gave me his samples. ’Cause I’m his favorite patient. And I like it so much, I used them all up.”

  Ida looks puzzled. “I didn’t know pot was legal as medicine in Florida.”

  “It’s not. As far as I can recall.”

  Sophie leans over and puts her head in my lap. “ ’Cause he likes me.” She grins up at me. “He says the laws are stupid. He knows better.”

  Ida is furious. “He should be arrested.”

  Bella is worried. “Is Soph a drug addict?”

  “Sophie. Look at me.” It’s not easy keeping her attention. Her head is weaving back and forth. “Why did he give you these pills?”

  “For glaucoma.”

  “You don’t have glaucoma.”

  “I told him my eyes were burning.”

  Ida paces in a frenzy. “That’s it. That quack is going down! He’s a dead duck. No more Sophie in his stable.”

  The metaphors are mixed, but she’s got the right idea. “First question is—how do we get her down from her high?”

  Ida has an idea. “We call Eddie at the pharmacy.” Our local pharmacist is a whiz at answering medical questions when we can’t reach our doctors. Which is usually the case.

  Much later, when Sophie is back to herself, more or less (we leave her looking at her lineup of shoes, perplexed), we decide we have to do something now. It’s time to get her to a new doctor. And fast.

  We each have doctors we like and respect.

  Ida suggests we call all of them up. “First one who will see us, gets us.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  DOCTORS, GAMES, GRIEF, AND HOPE

  Ida won. She managed to get us an appointment with her doctor for two days after she called. Unheard of. Though she did say it was a personal emergency that had to be dealt with immediately.

  The four of us sit in Dr. Reich’s waiting room in his office on University Avenue. I am running on fumes with so little sleep last night; we’ve all been taking turns watching Sophie since she came down from her high. But Ida is perky and determined. She has a cause and it’s invigorating her.

  Bella was reluctant to come with us because she’d seen enough doctors, thank you, she didn’t need to look at another one. But then she decided it was right that she help solve Sophie’s problem.

  Sophie looks disoriented. And sullen. She doesn’t know where she is but she suspects it will not please her. Apparently she also had tranquilizers in her kitchen drawer. Our pharmacist looked up her record and he’s the one who knew about them. He suggested she take one. It’s calmed her down, but she still seems in a daze over what’s happened to her.

  When the doctor finally enters, I am surprised at Ida’s choice. Dr. Reich is young, thin, and sprightly. She explains he took over when her original doctor died and she has no complaints, pun intended. He is good enough.

  Dr. Reich is pleased to see Ida. And surprised, since she had her annual checkup two months ago. She would not tell his nurse when she made the appointment why she was coming to see him. And he is further surprised to see that she arrived with three other women.

  “The situation was too complicated to explain on the phone,” Ida says as she introduces us to him and we all take seats in his private office. “We’re here on behalf of our friend, Sophie here, who is in serious medical trouble.”

  Sophie here scowls with displeasure.

  “She doesn’t have a doctor of her own?”

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice is whiny to say the least.

  I take over, hoping I can be tactful enough. “She does, but her doctor doesn’t seem to be helping, and she’s getting worse.”

  Dr. Reich tries to stop me. “This isn’t quite ethical.”

  I interrupt him. “Please just hear us out—”

  Bella jumps in. “We’re not even talking lawsuits.”

  Ida pleads, “It will never go further than this room. We need your help.”

  For a moment he shifts his eyes from us and looks over at the very agitated Sophie while he toys with a letter opener on his desk. We wait. Finally he looks back at us and nods.

  I continue, “Every time she sees him, he orders batteries of tests and comes up with a new disease and new drugs. Right now she is being treated for high blood pressure, high cholesterol, arrhythmia, restless leg syndrome, tension, glaucoma, and a rash, to name just a few.”

  Bella nudges Ida. “Show him the medications.”

  Dr. Reich holds up his hands, a stopping gesture. “Ida, I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “We won’t be here long enough to make you too uncomfortable. Honest.” Ida reminds him that she’s never been a complainer before.

  Bella puts her two cents in. “We’re uncomfortable enough for you. So you don’t have to be.” Maybe a little too dramatically, Ida upends her purse and all the pill bottles drop out. I take the list out of my pocket and read, “Vasotec, Lasix, Coreg, Plavix, Zocur, Klonopin, Dijoxin, Sular, Cipro, Requip, and amoxicillin.”

  Bella chimes in. “And her leg isn’t restless anymore, but her whole body is a nervous wreck.”

&nbs
p; Ida adds, “And the rash went away the next day so it probably had been a heat rash or just nervousness, but he still insists she keep taking the antibiotic.”

  By now we have the doctor’s full attention. He reads the dosage from each bottle, making notes on his pad. His brow is furrowing up a storm. “Rather alarmingly high dosages.”

  And now I get dramatic. I hold the bottle up. “Oh, and her cannabis.”

  His eyes widen. I hand him the bottle. “You know this is against the law?”

  Ida nods. “Yes, we do.”

  “We think she needs a new doctor,” I add.

  Sophie moans. “I do not.”

  Dr. Reich takes a book from his desk and looks something up. Then he leans over to Sophie, who cringes. He speaks quietly and kindly. “Mrs. Meyerbeer, you should stop the Cipro and the Requip. They are fighting each other and may be causing some of the problems you are having. I suggest you get in touch with a psychopharmacologist to help you with those dosages. You keep on like this, there can be liver damage.”

  Sophie refuses to listen; she shakes her head from side to side in denial.

  I add, “She had a terrible reaction to the cannabis last night.”

  “I’m not surprised. Especially with everything else she’s taking.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Sophie, who glares at him.

  Ida is furious. “That doctor should be disbarred.”

  Sophie jumps up. “Don’t you dare tell him his name. You’ll get him in trouble!”

  Dr. Reich stands and gently takes her hands in his. “Mrs. Meyerbeer, listen. I truly believe you need a second opinion about what is wrong with you and what medications you need to take. It doesn’t have to be me. I can give you a list of doctors to choose from. But you must see someone else.”

  Ida piles all the pills back in her purse, but Dr. Reich keeps the pot. “I don’t think you need these.”

  Bella giggles. Everyone glances toward her. “But she was funny when she was on them.”

  Dr. Reich opens his door. Sophie rushes out like the devil is after her. Ida shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, Dr. Reich. Don’t worry. We’ve never been here.”