Getting Old is Criminal

by Rita Lakin

  FIFTY-ONE

  PHILIP AND RAY

  Philip is thrashing from one side of the bed to the other. It wakes Evvie, surprised to see she has fallen asleep in her clothes.

  He leaps from the bed and crashes into the wall. Evvie gasps, fearing he hurt himself. She hurries to him as he starts banging his fists against the wall shouting over and over again. “Die, damn you, Ray, die!”

  She tries to pull him away from the wall. “Philip, wake up. Phil, darling.” His body writhes with some inner frenzy. She pulls her hands away. They’re covered in his sweat. She doesn’t know what to do. Finally she fills a glass of water from the bathroom sink and throws it in his face.

  That stops him. He wakes up and looks at her, startled. It takes a few minutes for him to come to himself. He smiles crookedly. “Did I wake you from your beauty sleep?” He put his hands to his aching head and moans.

  “Do you want your pills?

  He shakes his head and sits down on the edge of the bed.

  “The migraines are getting worse. Darling, it’s time to see a doctor.”

  “No! No doctor.”

  “Is it me? Am I causing you the nightmares?”

  He reaches out to her and she comes and sits next to him. Philip puts his arm around her shoulder. “I actually think so.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it’s different. Because it’s you that’s different. You’re not like any of the others.”

  “The other dying old ladies,” she says ruefully.

  “I didn’t love the others. It was playacting. I pretended to love them so they would die in peace. I can’t do that any longer. I’m not pretending anymore. I love you, Evelyn. I never expected that to happen.”

  His body shudders against hers. She holds him tightly.

  “I’m not dying, Phil, dearest.”

  But he doesn’t seem to hear her. “You’re my only cure. You’re the only one who can save me. The actor is dead. Long live... long live...” She can feel his tears running down both their faces.

  Evvie takes a deep breath. “My darling. Long live who? Long live Ray? Who is Ray?”

  His eyes blaze. Suddenly she sees the rage come over him. He throws her to the floor, and stands up. “Damn you! Damn you to hell!”

  Evvie lies there petrified.

  “Ray is dead!”

  She crawls away from him slowly, never taking her eyes off him, as he paces the room. He reminds her of a tiger. About to pounce.

  “Why did you have to mention his name? Now I have to kill you.”

  Evvie manages to slide up and sit down on the edge of the bed, next to the phone. She tries not to move. She’s beginning to understand it now.

  “Ray didn’t want to kill them. Not him, not Mr. Goody Two-shoes. He wanted them alive and happy. I wanted them happily dead. Like her.”

  “You mean Aunt Dorothy?”

  He looks at her sharply. His voice is rough, his breathing shallow. “I was so angry at her. The things she did to me. She tortured me. It gave her pleasure. Who could I tell? Who would believe me? When she got sick I thought I could get away. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her. She demanded I wait on her constantly. But when things got very bad, her doctor insisted she send me away. So I never had my revenge. The crazy old bitch died while I was away. She burned down the house herself.”

  “So you took it out on all the poor old lady characters on World of Our Dreams?”

  That stops his pacing; he turns to her, startled. “You knew? How long have you known?”

  Evvie sighs. “Only a few minutes. I finally remembered where I’d seen you. I remembered a soap opera I used to watch.”

  “Daytime serial. Glory Hill would have a fit if she heard you call it a soap opera.” He laughs madly at the memory.

  She speaks softly, evenly. “Who’s Ray?”

  “Who’s Ray?” She says it louder.

  He lunges toward her. Evvie braces herself. “Stop it! He doesn’t exist anymore. I told you! I killed him, too.”

  “And Esther Ferguson. Real people like her? And more. Did you kill all the old ladies you pretended to love?”

  Evvie’s heart is pounding so hard, she’s afraid she’ll have a heart attack before he has a chance to murder her. She’s thinking fast. Is Donald Kincaid outside again? She could try for the door. What about the phone? He said call 505. What were her chances of having time to dial?

  As Philip reaches her, she kicks her legs out, slamming into his stomach. He’s caught off guard for a minute. She makes it to the door, but he’s too fast for her. He grabs her and throws her down once again.

  Now she realizes that Donald tried to tell her he was here to help her, and that the police knew and were coming. Too late. They were going to be too late.

  I’m going to die, she thinks.

  He hovers over her, fists clenched. She tries to hide her terror. “I don’t think you killed Ray. I think he doesn’t want to stay hidden anymore. I think it’s Ray who loves me. He doesn’t want me to die.”

  He grabs her by the shoulders, hitting her head again and again against the floor “Liar. I’m the one who loves you.”

  She hears the sound of heavy knocking at the door.

  “I don’t want to kill you.” Tears are streaming down his face. He picks up a pillow from the side of the bed and pushes it down over her face. She tries as hard as she can to push it off.

  Through her muffled voice, she gasps. “Then let Ray go free.”

  “I can’t.”

  She hears the key turning in the lock. Too late. With the last of her breath she cries, “You can. Philip, you must. Don’t let me die.”

  With an anguished scream, he drops the pillow and falls down on top of her. She wraps her arms around him as he sobs.

  Evvie looks up startled to see Gladdy rushing into the room. With her, Morrie and four other policemen with drawn guns.

  Though her throat feels raw, Evvie calls out, “Don’t shoot. This isn’t Philip. It’s Ray. His name is Ray.”

  FIFTY-TWO

  LEAVING WILMINGTON HOUSE

  We almost make it out of Wilmington House without anyone knowing, but a few light sleepers do get up and stare in shock as Philip Smythe is marched out wearing handcuffs. I’m sure they are equally astonished at our little parade—Morrie, Oz, and their men walk behind Smythe with guns drawn. The new “resident,” Donald Kincaid, follows them. And Gladys Gold—what is she doing there? Hovering in the doorway is Hope Watson, wringing her hands.

  When shivering Evvie is led out, with a blanket covering her, Hope Watson runs to her and hugs her. “You brave girl. You knew all along. You put yourself in harm’s way to save one of our other guests from being murdered. Someone should give you a medal!”

  Evvie is too numb to respond.

  Hello? I’m standing here, too. Hope ignores me. After all, what did I do? Nothing except listen to her harangues and take her verbal abuse.

  All the way home, Evvie and I sit in the backseat of Morrie’s police car, clutching each other and crying. Morrie and Oz sit up front, quietly talking.

  “You were right about him,” Evvie says through her sobs.

  “You were right, too. Ray was a wonderful man. It was Philip who committed murder.”

  “I’ll never see him again, will I?”

  We both know the answer to that.

  “Glad, forgive me. I’m so sorry for all the terrible things I said.”

  “I’ll forgive you, if you forgive me.”

  Evvie manages to laugh. “Can you imagine the gossip at breakfast tomorrow? No Philip and now no Donald. The two best dancers in the bunch.” Her laughter turns into hysteria. I laugh and cry with her.

  When we arrive at Lanai Gardens, it must be nearly three A.M. Out of the darkness I see a patch of color. As we get closer, there they are, under the lamplight, my girls, waiting up as they said they would. They’re seated on a bench dressed in warm sweaters, with blankets over them, huddled together to keep them
warm in the cool night air. Ida holds a flashlight and waves it toward us. There is no one else around in the quiet darkness.

  Morrie pulls up. Oz gets out and opens the rear door for us. The girls look at me, worriedly. I nod and smile. Oz helps Evvie out of the car.

  For a moment she looks at them, and they at her. Then, in a rush, the girls are on her, hugging and kissing and sobbing. They won’t let go of her, nor she of them.

  “We were so worried.” Sophie pats her hair.

  “We thought we’d never see you again.” Bella touches her face.

  “We love you.” Ida kisses her cheek.

  I join the group hug. “Welcome home.” From all of us.

  Evvie looks exhausted. Ida starts to move her. “She needs to rest.”

  “But we’ll see you for breakfast?” Sophie needs to know.

  “Of course,” Evvie says, trying for enthusiasm. “Don’t I have to hear all about what I missed?”

  They help her to the elevator. Morrie holds me back for a moment.

  “You are amazing, Gladdy Gold. Disobedient, but amazing.”

  “Not according to Hope Watson.” I grimace.

  “You’re my hero, too,” adds Oz.

  They both hug me and I head for the elevator.

  “I’m sorry about—” Morrie breaks off.

  I turn. “Don’t... But thanks for caring.”

  FIFTY-THREE

  THE MORNING AFTER

  The girls eagerly peer through my screen door, and I tell them to let Evvie sleep some more and come for lunch instead. She slept at my place last night, not wanting to be alone

  At nine A.M. their time, I phone Alvin and Shirley Ferguson in Seattle to tell them the case is over. Philip Smythe has been arrested.

  “I knew it! He killed her, didn’t he?” Alvin demands.

  I hear Shirley in the background. “It can’t be; he wouldn’t kill her.”

  “You’re both right,” I say. “Does the term split personality mean anything to you? I’ll send you a written report with all the details. The police will be in touch with you. They may want you to come back here to give your statement.”

  Shirley has grabbed the phone. “Can you sell those clothes back to the shop?”

  “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “If not, mail them to me. I’m sure they’ll fit.” Sure. In your dreams, cheapskate.

  “Whatever.” Evvie wakes up right after my call. She comes into the kitchen wearing my bathrobe. She looks beyond weary. I hand her a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep?”

  “Off and on. I had nightmares. It’s beginning to really hit me now.”

  “Yes. And it will for quite a while.”

  We’re both stiff with each other and we know it. The harsh words said—the hurts won’t go away that quickly.

  She sits down at the kitchen table warming her hands with the coffee cup. “A hundred things run through my mind. Some of them stupid, like how can I face anyone after the way I behaved?”

  “Simple,” I say. “Take a page from Hope Watson. We’ll tell everyone you knew all along. The girls won’t betray you. And you did figure it out yourself. That was so smart of you.”

  She grimaces. “Almost too late.”

  She starts to get up, but I bring the coffeepot back. I pour.

  “Glad, what else did you find out about him? He killed other women, didn’t he? I need to know.”

  “Not now. Later. We’ll have lots to talk about.” She sees the troubled look in my eyes and lets it go.

  Her eyes tear up. “How do I hide my broken heart? I loved him. If you could have seen how he was when he was Ray. Everything I could ever want in a man. He was wonderful.”

  I want to tell her someone else might come along. But it’s not the right thing to say. Not now. Maybe never. Besides, I’m not sure I believe it.

  She puts her head in her hands. “I can’t bear it. How could I have been so easily fooled?”

  “He fooled me. He fooled everyone. For years and years. Try not to be so hard on yourself.”

  I offer her some toast. She shakes her head. “My life is over.”

  “What are you talking about? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “All my life I’ve lived this fantasy, and my fantasy came true. But it was all smoke and mirrors. It was never real. I have nothing to live for anymore. Nothing but memories, turned sour.”

  For a moment, I remember Evvie in her gorgeous red gown, dancing with Philip, looking beautiful and ecstatically happy. I want to cry for her.

  I sit down in the chair next to her and pull her hands away. “Don’t say that. You have me. And the girls. And your family.”

  And I think of a conversation when she said that to me when I first met Jack. It didn’t work then and it won’t work now.

  “It’s not enough. It never was. And it can’t be ever again. I know what I’ve lost forever; nothing will be any good.”

  You’ll have to grieve, Evvie, as if he died. You’ll have to accept that torn piece in you forever. But I won’t say it.

  There is a pounding on the door and eager faces grin at us through the kitchen window.

  “Evvie, I know how bad you feel, but if you just try to act like your normal self, maybe the old you will just kick in. Make an effort?”

  “We brought lunch.” Sophie waves a bag at us. I look at Evvie. She nods.

  “Come on in,” I call back at them.

  I whisper to Evvie, “Will you be all right?”

  “Sure,” she says woefully. “You know what a good actress I am.”

  The girls plow in, emptying bags on the counter. Sandwiches from the deli. Dr. Brown black cherry sodas. They are so happy to see her.

  Evvie manages a smile. “Forgive me if I’m not too perky. Not enough rest.” She digs around the choices. “Where’s the pastrami?”

  In a few minutes, everyone has chosen their lunch and we sit around the dining room table noshing away. The girls don’t comment on the fact that Evvie is barely eating.

  “Catch me up,” Evvie says.

  “Where do we begin?” Bella is all atwitter. “My favorite is when the Peeper finally got caught.”

  “He did? Who was it?”

  Sophie laughs. “You’ll never guess. Your old boyfriend.”

  I see Evvie wince at that word, but she pulls up, fast. “Not Sol?”

  “Yes, Sol,” Sophie adds. “He was peeping at one of the Canadians and they caught him and, boy, was he scared.”

  Ida says, looking righteous, “They were ready to string him up.”

  Evvie works hard at showing interest. “Sol, of all people.”

  I add, “He said he needed sex.”

  “And, yeah, is he gonna get a lot.” Bella is laughing aloud. “Tessie saved him from being arrested. But only if he promised to marry her.”

  “You got back just in time. The wedding’s next week.”

  “Sol and Tessie. Oh, my, what a combination.” Evvie actually giggles. “That scheming woman—she’s been after him all along.”

  Bella continues. “And you know what else—Sophie got high and she practically tore her whole apartment to pieces.”

  “I wasn’t used to pot. But it was fun.”

  Evvie is really surprised now. “Pot? You smoked pot?”

  Bella giggles. “You should have seen her in her underwear jumping up and down on her bed singing stupid songs.”

  Sophie and Bella break out into: “ ‘Oh, I danced with a dolly with a hole in her stockin’...’ ”

  Ida adds, “And you should have seen the eating spree she went on.”

  Sophie giggles. “I must have gained ten pounds that night.”

  “How did that come about? Where would you get drugs? And why?” Evvie asks.

  “From Dr. Friendly, who is no longer my doctor.”

  “Wow, that is news.”

  Sophie’s face reveals her sadness. “He almost killed Millie with some drug he gave her. It was all my fault, because I recommended him.
”

  “Now, now,” I say. “We’ve been through this. You mustn’t blame yourself.” The girls agree.

  “Is Millie all right?”

  Ida answers. “She’s still in the hospital. But she won’t be coming home. Irving is looking for an Alzheimer’s facility for her.”

  We’re quiet for a few moments, thinking of our dear friend.

  Evvie gets up. “Thanks so much for the lunch and the update. But I think I need more sleep now.”

  She walks out and we all look at one another worriedly. That’s not Evvie. Not the Evvie we used to know.

  I promise I’ll help you, Ev. Someday you’ll be all right again. I swear it.

  The girls reach across the table and we all touch hands.

  We’ll all help.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  WEDDING BELLS

  The wedding is a hoot. Phase Two is the official caterer for the marriage of Sol Spankowitz and Tessie Hoffman, but since all the Phases were invited, and it is an insult not to contribute food, there is enough chow to feed all of downtown Fort Lauderdale. Needless to say that makes Tessie very happy. Food and a husband—what more could she ask?

  Not that Sol seems too happy. Since his engagement, he’s been in a state of befuddlement. And today is no different. Irving helped him dress, so that his clothes would match. But Irving keeps shaking his head at the fate of his racetrack buddy. So far, Irving seems to be holding up, at least. He goes to the hospital every day to sit with Millie. It’s when the realization hits that he can’t take her home again—that’s going to be a difficult time. Thank goodness for Yolie. And Mary, too. He’d be lost without them.

  Dozens of chairs have been rented for the occasion. There is the chupeh, the traditional canopy under which the bride and groom stand during the ceremony. The rabbi is there waiting, chatting with members of his congregation.

  So many people are here, all of them dressed in their finery, any excuse to get fahputzed, as Sophie would say. I can hardly count them as they are wandering and drinking and dancing all over the lawns of Phase Two. In fact, I can see Casey and Barbi, dressed in their unique way, doing a wild cha-cha together. At weddings it is not unusual for women to dance together, so their secret will still be safe for as long as they want to keep it.