Bea sobbed quietly. “If I’d been there I might have been able to help him. I could at least have called 91l. I’ll never forgive myself.” Bea leaned back in her chair, and sighed. “There it is, Oshansky. Laid out all neat and clean for you.”
Yeah, Oshansky thought, possibly too neat and too clean. Whitewashed, might be a better word.
“Anyway I’m not in the habit of sharing my sex life with anyone so I’d appreciate if you kept all this to yourself.”
Oshansky nodded. “So when you called Harry later, how’d he sound?”
Bea looked down at her lap. “I didn’t,” she said softly.
“You didn’t call? Why not?” he asked, surprised.
“I fell asleep. I didn’t hear that he died until Allison Kantor called me the next morning to tell me. She said Evelyn Mandel told her that she heard from Larry Adler that Harry had died.”
“It must have been some shock when you heard it.”
“You have no idea how much of a shock,” she answered. “I’m not even sure why I’m telling you all of this. Or why it’s any of your business.”
She picked up her bag and stood up. “I’ve got to go. I hope your prurient interest in my panties is now satisfied.”
“Uh, one more thing, Bea,” Oshansky said. Though he hated to risk setting her off again, he had to know. “A while back I happened to see a pink envelope in your handbag. I was wondering if you knew that Harry was getting pink letters?” He decided not to mention that he also was getting them. The less said the better.
Bea looked at him with an expression somewhere between amusement and disdain. She rummaged around in her bag and finally found what she was looking for.
“Go ahead,” she said shoving a pink envelope at him. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Allegra Berninsky invites you to her Bat Mitzvah
Saturday, December 23rd
Temple Emanuel
Beverly Hills, California
Luncheon following
rsvp
“My niece’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. Care to join me?” she said before walking out and slamming the door behind her.
Chapter 34
Oshansky, on a strict diet for the past two days, stared sullenly at his breakfast, which consisted of one slice of dry toast, half a cup of cottage cheese with half a banana. He thought he might just this once, for old time’s sake, head over to the Hot Coffee Cafe for some eggs, bacon and hash browns when the phone rang.
“Say, Oshansky, I see that you haven’t sent in your $200 for prom night. It’s getting late, you know. The dance is in two weeks.”
“Listen, Marv, I wasn’t planning on going. By the way, I thought the tickets were $150.”
“There’s a late fee of $50 bucks. And you’ve got to be kidding that you’re not going! Listen to me. You have to go. You’re one of the three finalists. Along with me and… ”
“Finalists for what?” Oshansky asked as he put the cottage cheese and banana back in the refrigerator.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know you’re one of the finalists for prom king? The names were put up on the club bulletin board three days ago. We also sent out ballots to everyone. What’d you do, throw it away?”
Oshansky remembered the letter from the club which he hadn’t bothered opening. He figured it was just another new condo regulation like not letting the dog poop on the new desert landscaping.
“Well, whatever,” Marv continued. “You have to show up, Oshansky. You might even be the winner. Myself and Al Fortino are the other nominees though. So you’ve got plenty of competition,” Marv chortled.
Oshansky had a sudden vision of being crowned Prom King of Sun Villas. What better way to get under Marv’s skin. “Okay, Marv, I’ll send in the $150.”
“$200. I knew you were a team player. And Oshansky….”
“Yeah? What now?”
“May the best man win.”
Marv was still laughing when Oshansky clicked off.
King Oshansky. Not too shabby, he thought. He wondered how many people had nominated him. No doubt only the women. But then why not him?
He poured himself a cup of coffee, retrieved the cottage cheese and the half banana from the refrigerator and lightly buttered his cold toast. He’d have to watch his weight now on the chance that he’d be voted Prom King of Sun Villas.
Maybe he’d even give Bea a call and ask her to go with him. After all, she might enjoy going on the arm of a potential condo king. He just hoped she would forgive him for the whole pink invitation/panty fiasco. At least he hadn’t come out and accused her of murder. He could only imagine her reaction to that.
“Good morning, Mr Ushmoe. You sleep well?”
“I didn’t hear you come in, Rosa. I just made breakfast. The food’s been too good at the Hot Coffee Cafe. Been putting on too much weight.”
Rosa looked him up and down, then nodded in agreement.
“Come, join me. Toast?”
“Only coffee, Mr. Ushmoe. I have big breakfast. But I use bathroom first.” Rosa dragged her black suitcase towards the bathroom.
“Rosa,” he said when she returned to the kitchen, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Harry lately.” He poured two cups of coffee and waited for Rosa to sit down. “Do you mind if I pick your brain some more?” he asked.
“Pick brain?” Rosa had a look of alarm.
“An old expression. What I mean is, is there anything you know that maybe you forgot to tell me? Or maybe you didn’t think was important enough to say. About when you found Harry dead.
Rosa shook her head.
Oshansky continued, “For instance after the medics came and took Harry away you said you went back to his room to clean it.”
“Yes, Mr Ushmoe. I go in room. I clean and get rid of Wednesday panties.”
“Was there anything else in the room that struck you as strange or unusual? Anything that didn’t belong?”
Rosa stared at the floor. “I guilty, Mr. Ushmoe,” she said so quietly he wondered if he’d heard right.
“Guilty? I don’t understand.”
“I take them! I take his sex pills.”
Oshansky tried not to show his surprise. “You went to clean Mr. Harry’s room after he died and you took his sex pills?”
“No, not after he die. I take pills day before he die. I think Mr. Harry have so many pills. No harm I take three pills.” She placed her hand over her eyes. “I so ashamed,” she said quietly. “My husband good man. I love husband but sometime he fall down on job. You know what I mean?”
“I understand, Rosa.”
“I think no harm if I take three pills for husband. I so ashamed.”
“No big deal, Rosa.” Oshansky said, refilling his cup. He checked Rosa’s cup but she’d hardly drunk any. “Harry sure as hell doesn’t need them anymore.”
“I so guilty, Mr Ushmoe,” she paused as if searching for the courage to continue. “Next morning I come to work and bring back pills. I go to Mr. Harry’s room to put pills back in container by the bed.”
Oshansky could feel his pulse quicken with anticipation. “And…and what happened?” he prodded.
“I listen by bedroom door. No noise. Ah, Mr Harry out, I think. I open door and see Mr. Harry in bed sound asleep. I think Mr. Harry have big night.” She paused and wiped her eyes. She took a sip of her coffee.
“I not want to wake Mr. Harry so I work very quietly. Clean kitchen, then living room. Mr. Harry still not come out of bedroom. I think he must have really big night. Then I think house too quiet. I call out, ‘Mr. Harry okay?’ When no answer I open door hoping I not see Mr. Harry naked.”
“And? And was he?”
“I not see if he naked.”
“No, I mean, was he in bed?”
“He still under the covers. I say, ‘Mr. Harry, okay?’ He no move. So I run out door. Miss Brenda walk by. ‘Help, help,’ I scream.”
“Brenda?” he asked. “Brenda was walking by?” Brenda always seemed to be walking by.
Rosa nodded. “Mr. Harry sick, I scream. He need help. Miss Brenda run into house. She tell me phone 911 and she check Mr. Harry.”
“Sounds to me like you did everything right, Rosa. No need to blame yourself for anything.”
“No, Mr Ushmoe, I do wrong. I have guilty conscience.” Tears flooded Rosa’s eyes.
“Now what are you feeling guilty about?”
“When ambulance take Mr. Harry away, I go to Mr. Harry’s room to return the three pills. Pills not there. I can’t put three pills back in container.”
“Gone?” he repeated, “The container of pills by his bed were gone?”
“All gone.”
“And they were always by his bed?”
“Oh yes, always by bed. Never not by bed.”
Oshansky nodded slowly, thinking about what she’d just told him.. Had Brenda taken the pills when she went in to check on Harry? Why would she do that? Maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that she happened to be walking by when Rosa ran out for help.
“Oh, Mr. Ushmoe, I so ashamed. I steal pills for husband. Husband say pills for sissy men. He tell me throw them out.”
“Oh no, that’s not true,” Oshansky interrupted. “Many men, virile men, take those pills. Even young men in their 30’s and 40’s. Besides I take them only on rare occasions when it’s absolutely necessary.”
Rosa stood up. “Coffee too strong,” she said, dumping the rest of her coffee in the sink. “Not good,” she said. Frowning, she looking at him. “Everything okay, Mr Ushmoe?”
“I’m not sure,” he answered.
It was time to pay Brenda another visit.
Chapter 35
“It’s about time you called me again, Oshansky.” Brenda didn’t waste any time ushering him into her boudoir. “All that gallivanting around. It could tax even a younger man, Oshansky. You have to be more careful. I don’t want you dropping dead from overexertion.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve been saving all my energy for tonight. For you, Brenda. You know I felt really bad about throwing up that last time I was here.” Oshansky walked closer to her nightstand. “I thought I might make it up to you tonight.” Oshansky looked down at the nightstand. “Damn, I just remembered. I forgot to take my little blue pill. If you have some, I could take one of yours. I don’t want to take the chance of anything going wrong tonight.”
“What’s with you, Oshansky?” A flicker of suspicion crossed Brenda’s face. “Last time you were here you threw up. Now you say you forgot your pill. What’s next?” She made no effort to hide her irritation. “Of course I have pills,” she said, walking toward the nightstand.
“I’ll get it,” he said, quickly pulling open the drawer. A vial of pills rolled toward the front. “Ah, here they are,” he said, picking up the vial.
“Not those,” she said, trying to grab them from his hand. “Those are stale.”
Holding them out of her reach, he glanced at the label. He could see that most of it had been torn off, leaving only a small section of label with four letters:mann. “These wouldn’t be Harry Hermann’s, by any chance, would they?” He turned to look at Brenda. “Now what would you be doing with Harry’s pills?”
Brenda lunged for them. “None of your damn business. Gimme those,” she screamed, slamming him in the groin with her knee. As he buckled over in pain she grabbed the vial from his hand and took off running to the bathroom. “You’ll never be able to prove what I did,” she screamed as Oshansky limped after her.
“Don’t…” He grabbed her arm but it was too late. She had the cap off and had emptied the contents in the toilet. “There are your damn pills. Go get them,” she said triumphantly, pushing the toilet handle down.
Oshansky watched the pills swirl around in the water until they disappeared from view. He angrily tightened his grip on her arm “Tell me, why did you take Harry’s pills?”
She shoved him away. “How dare you touch me. I’ll call the cops!” She ground the pill vial to bits under her heel. “I never had Harry’s pills,” she said innocently. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Now get out, Oshansky. Questioning me, in my home. Who the hell do you think you are!”
As Oshansky drove home he mulled over Brenda’s strong reaction to his questions. Was it because he’d caught her red-handed stealing the pills? Or was there more to the story?
The only other reason he could think of that would cause Brenda to react so strongly would be if she’d tampered with them in some way. Could that be the reason Harry had fallen ill that night?
He remembered Bea’s telling him that Harry’s illness had come on suddenly––after taking one of his blue pills. It had to be one of two possibilities; either Harry would have had the heart attack with or without the blue pill. Or …the blue pill was not what he thought it was.
Chapter 36
“Oh, Mr Ushmoe. You call me at home. You have problem maybe?”
“No. Not a problem. Well actually, yes, there is a problem,” he said. Oshansky knew it was a long shot but he had to check. After all Rosa had kept Harry’s last pink note. “Maybe you can help me out,” he continued. “Those pills you took from Harry. You said your husband told you to get rid of them. Right?”
“Oh, yes. He tell me throw them out.”
“Look, I know wives don’t always listen to their husbands. So my question is…” he paused. “Did you?”
There was a long silence. “Rosa? Are you still there?”
“You need sex pills, Mr. Ushmoe? I not surprised. So many women tire you out.”
“No, Rosa. Please just answer my question. Did you throw the pills away, or did you keep them?”
“In case husband someday need them.” She paused before continuing. “I keep pills,” she said quietly.
Oshansky realizing he’d been holding his breath, let out an audible sigh of relief. “Rosa, you must bring them to me when you come tomorrow. And make sure you take care of them. Put them in an envelope and seal it so they don’t get lost. And Rosa, whatever you do, do not give them to your husband.”
Rosa arrived earlier than usual the next morning. “I no sleep. I worry about pills. I put pills in envelope like you say. Then under pillow.” She handed him two envelopes—a white envelope with the pills and an envelope that he wasn’t expecting. A pink envelope.
“Where did this come from, Rosa?” Oshansky asked.
“I find it sticking out under doormat.”
It had been a while since he’d received another pink letter and wondered if he’d possibly frightened the writer off.
Apparently not. Oshansky tore open the pink envelope.
men play around
you are different
remember to not spread your love
always you are mine
Oshansky put the letter aside and decided to focus on the pills. Hunting for his own vial of blue pills, he retrieved it from his underwear drawer and removed one of the pills. Lining his pill up next to Harry’s three pills, he was immediately struck by the difference.
Each of Harry’s pills had a small marking that was clearly different from the imprint on his pill. The color of Harry’s pills were off as well—though only slightly. It was a definite possibility that someone had purposely tampered with Harry’s pills.
Of course it was also possible that Harry was buying his pills from some questionable online pharmacy. If so, who knew what dangerous ingredient the pills might contain.
He’d send them on to the lab in Riverside and would know soon enough what was in them.
He carefully placed the three pills back in the white envelope and turned to Rosa who was watching him. “Do me a favor,” he said, “don’t tell anyone about these pills you took from Harry. For your own safety, Rosa. Keep it to yourself.”
“Something wrong, Mr. Ushmoe?”
“Could be. Just be thankful your husband didn’t take any of these.”
That night Oshansky lay in bed, eyes closed and wide awake. There was some
thing about the pills that was bothering him. Something besides the color and the markings. He’d know soon enough what they contained—and yet, he couldn’t shake the thought that he was missing something. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something he almost had within his grasp.
It was frustrating as hell. Oshansky, he scolded, you’re losing your touch. That thought so rattled him that he turned on the bedside light and opened the latest Robert Ludlam to try to calm himself.
Three pages later, Oshansky fell asleep, Ludlam lying open across his chest.
Chapter 37
“I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner, Rushmore, but I’ve been busy with arrangements for prom night.”
Oshansky checked the bedside clock, 9:30. At least Myra had the sense to call at a civilized hour.
“I was thrilled to hear that you’re one of the nominees for King. You know, of course, I’m up for Queen. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you and I both won?” She giggled girlishly. “You’d be my King and I’d be your Queen. Oh, I haven’t had so much fun since high school—I was voted prom Queen then as well,” she said with an embarrassed laugh.
“Say, Myra, I’m glad you called. Maybe you can help me out. I gave my black suit to Goodwill recently. Didn’t think I’d need it any more. Any idea where to buy a new one for the prom?”
“Of course. You must go to The Gentlemen’s Shoppe on Palm Canyon Drive. Morris Mendelson will know exactly how to outfit you. Be sure to tell him the event is formal.”
“Thanks, Myra, I owe you.”
“Oh, by the way, Rushmore, in case you were planning to ask me to be your date for the prom, I’m sorry but Frank Van Eckles has already asked me to accompany him. I’ll look for you though. And of course I’m keeping my fingers crossed that you and I are the winners.”
Sylvia Selfman - Rushmore Oshansky 01 - Murder Never Retires Page 13
