Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 04 - Ghosted

by Patricia Rockwell

  “Do you know what happened to the boy who did this to you?” asked Marjorie while Fay was contemplating her next move.

  “Oh, yes,” replied Essie. “I was told he was arrested. I guess he’s in jail now awaiting trial. I didn’t really even notice him when the girls were over cleaning my closet. There were so many people in my apartment that day, it’s a miracle I could keep track of any of them.”

  “He got what he deserved,” said Opal with disgust.

  “He did,” added Marjorie. “Imagine drugging an old lady like you, Essie! Just so he could steal your jewelry!”

  “And so unnecessary,” added Essie. “He could have had the whole box of jewelry. I have no use for it.”

  “Did the police ever get your jewelry back?” asked Opal. Fay played a card, causing Opal to frown and consider her hand more intently.

  “Yes,” replied Essie. “Actually, I don’t have it back yet. My daughters took it to a jeweler for appraisal. Evidently, that one necklace is worth quite a lot. I had no idea. It’s the one John gave me to wear with that beautiful black dress that I seemed to be remembering a lot.” Essie set her cards face down on the table and looked off wistfully.

  “Surely all those vivid dreams you’d been having are fading now, Essie,” said Marjorie, “now that that drug is out of your system.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Essie. “I feel completely better. But I still think about John a lot and somehow that drug caused me to remember things about him and events from the past that I had completely forgotten. So I guess there is a silver lining in all the bad things that happened to me.”

  “Leave it to you, Essie,” said Opal, “to adopt such a positive attitude.”

  At that, Fay placed all of her cards face up on the table and held her hands out in triumph.

  “Oh, no!” cried Marjorie. “She’s won again! How does she do it? She always beats us!”

  “She just concentrates on the game and not on gossiping like we do,” suggested Opal, placing her unplayed hand of cards in the discard pile along with those of Marjorie and Essie. Fay smiled broadly.

  Before Opal could deal a new hand, a man walked over to the table and stood directly beside Essie. The women looked up to see it was Edward Troy.

  “Miss Cobb, uh, Essie,” he said quite formally. He was not wearing his signature bomber jacket, but he still looked stunningly masculine in a blue chambray shirt and chinos. His white hair and thick mustache glistened in the glow from the sunlight streaming through the family room window. He stood as erect as a pine tree without the aid of any cane.

  “Uh, yes,” said Essie nervously, “that’s me.” She eyed the man carefully over the tops of her glasses, fearful that he might grab her again or hit her or something equally violent. Of course, she realized she didn’t know for sure that the person who had grabbed her was this man—but she was reasonably certain.

  “Essie,” began the man, somewhat hesitantly, “I wanted to stop by and express my concern and also tell you how happy I am to see that you have recovered and are back at Happy Haven.”

  “Thank you,” said Essie, “uh, Mr. Troy?”

  “Yes,” said the man. “I’m Edward Troy. Forgive me.” He nodded to all four women at the table and they all smiled and blushed—even Fay. “I forgot to introduce myself. But, Miss Essie, I believe we’ve met, although not officially.”

  Essie cringed. Surely, he wasn’t going to tell her friends about grabbing her in the back hallway? What good would that serve? Even though she was anxious to hear what explanation the man had for his actions.

  “You probably don’t remember,” he continued, “but I was standing there with you in the patio of Tippleton House when you collapsed.”

  All four women gasped. Troy continued.

  “I don’t know if it was seeing me, or what,” he said, “but you were sitting on that bench and when you stood up and turned around, as soon as you saw me, you tumbled to the ground. I was the one who called Sue Barber and then she contacted 911 and the ambulance came right away.”

  “Oh, Mr. Troy!” cried Marjorie in an obvious attempt to get the attractive man’s attention, “you saved our Essie’s life! How can we ever thank you?” Marjorie moved closer to Edward Troy and placed her hands adoringly on his arm. Edward Troy appeared oblivious to her ministrations.

  “No! No!” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t do anything more than any reasonable person would. But I couldn’t help thinking afterwards that my presence had somehow contributed to your fainting, Essie.” He eyed her quizzically.

  “Why would you think that, Mr. Troy?” asked Essie, smiling politely. “I certainly do appreciate your efforts on my behalf the day of the field trip, but you have nothing to apologize about. I have no memory whatsoever of even seeing you.” She smiled, and seeing his face so obviously twisted in guilt, she placed her hand gently on his.

  “Actually, Miss Essie,” continued Troy, his face now a map of red anguish, “I must confess that I followed you into the patio at Tippleton House that day.”

  Marjorie and Opal gasped even louder. Marjorie removed her hand from Troy’s arm and reached out for Opal. “He’s smitten with our Essie,” she whispered in Opal’s ear.

  “Shh,” cautioned Opal, as she obviously wished to hear Troy’s explanation.

  “You followed me?” asked Essie, feigning surprise, although she wasn’t really surprised at all. “Why?”

  “I think you know,” he said, now looking down at his feet which were twisting.

  “He’s shy!” whispered Marjorie to Opal. “Isn’t it cute?”

  “Quiet, Marjorie!” said Opal, giving Marjorie a small smack with the back of her hand.

  “Because I wanted to apologize for grabbing you in the back hallway the other day!” he blurted out.

  “What?” said both Marjorie and Opal.

  “You grabbed Essie in the back hallway?” cried Marjorie.

  “Essie, you never told us this!” added Opal. Both women glared at Essie with moon-sized eyes.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t report me,” said Troy.

  “I wasn’t sure it was you,” said Essie, “although I had a strong suspicion. I didn’t see you. But I was trying to gather more information before I acted. Now that you’ve revealed yourself, Mr. Troy, maybe you’d like to tell me just what you were doing leaving the building out the back entrance, meeting the person in the car, and bringing that package in. It was all very suspicious the first time I saw you do it, and it was even more so the second time.”

  “Essie!” cried Opal.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” added Marjorie.

  “I wasn’t sure,” said Essie. “I thought something strange was going on, but before I could find out any more information, the hallucinations got worse and I ended up in the hospital. I had no idea that Mr. Troy had attempted to talk to me in the patio of Tippleton House.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must think of me, Miss Essie,” said Troy, “but it must be horrible. There’s no excuse for grabbing you the way I did. I guess I just went into combat mode from all my many years in the military. I felt terrible afterward and I’ve been meaning to apologize ever since, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had, what with your being in the hospital.”

  “So, there is a logical explanation for your behavior?” asked Essie.

  “Logical,” replied Troy, “but embarrassing.” He looked down again at his feet. “As you all know, I’m new here. I was living on my own for many years since my wife died, but recently because of some health issues, my doctor recommended that I move in to Happy Haven which I did. My son and daughter-in-law live nearby and they’ve been great. My son and I see eye to eye on almost everything, but he is a sort of man’s man and he frowns on anything I might do that he feels isn’t manly enough. I know it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t live here. It’s my life. But that’s the way it is.”

  “You can do as you like here,” said Essie. “What sorts of activities interest you? Buildin
g bombs?”

  The women at the table gasped again, this time at Essie’s forwardness.

  “What?” said Troy, mystified. “Why would you say that?”

  “I mean, Mr. Troy,” said Essie, “all those packages you’ve been sneaking in the back way. All your military experience. I thought maybe you might be a terrorist. That’s why I was following you!”

  “Miss Essie,” said Troy, laughing. “You are a card!”

  “She is indeed,” agreed Marjorie, now touching the man’s arm again. “A real card!”

  “So?” continued Essie. “What was in all those packages that you brought in the back way so no one would see them?” She glared at him courageously, backed by her three good friends.

  “I’ll admit I was trying to keep the packages secret,” he agreed. “But not because they contained bombs! All they contained was…cake decorating materials.”

  “What?” asked Essie.

  “Yes,” said Troy, almost glumly. “My son would die of embarrassment if he knew that his macho, old school, military commando father was a cake decorating addict. I hinted at my interest once and he freaked out. But my daughter-in-law is on my side. She works just up the street behind Happy Haven and she sneaks supplies to me on her way to work a lot. It’s just easier for her to drop the stuff off to me at the back entrance. And, besides, I don’t want any of my supplies being left at the front counter because I’m afraid people here might find out.” His erect posture had devolved into a beaten up, rolled shoulder version of his former self.

  “Cake decorating!” cried Essie. “That’s your big secret!”

  “Yes,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not very manly, is it?”

  “Oh, who cares?” said Essie, laughing. “Most of the men at Happy Haven are not all that manly anymore!” This elicited a chuckle from the still elegant Edward Troy.

  “Mr. Troy,” said Marjorie softly, tapping his arm, “I for one think you’re still very manly, and I’d just love to see your…cakes.” She fluttered her ample eyelashes in the man’s direction and smoothed her sweater provocatively.

  “Marjorie,” whispered Opal, “that sounds funny.”

  “I guess the word is out now!” replied Troy with a happy sigh. “Maybe I’ll create one of my special holiday cakes for Halloween tomorrow!”

  “That would be lovely!” said Essie. “We have a wonderful Halloween at Happy Haven. All the residents dress up and we all come out to the lobby and give candy to children who come over from nearby schools. Your cake could be the centerpiece!”

  “That sounds great!” said Troy, smiling at the women. “I don’t know why I was ever so worried about being myself here. Happy Haven is so welcoming!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “On Halloween, the thing you must do

  Is pretend that nothing can frighten you

  And if something scares you and you want to run

  Just let on like it’s Halloween fun!”

  ––An early nineteenth-century Halloween postcard

  Halloween at Happy Haven was the best ever, thought Essie. As usual, the decorations had now totally filled the lobby. Ghosts, goblins, and witches were everywhere. Cobwebs, spiders, and all sorts of little creatures popped out of each corner. Spooky music played in the background. In the center of the lobby was a small table on which sat one of the cleverest and funniest decorated cakes Essie had ever seen. Edward Troy, the dashing WWII hero and potential spy had turned out to be a genuine baker and artistic decorator with a fun-loving spirit that exhibited itself in a whimsical world of Halloween fancifulness. The main part of the cake was a giant witch’s house. Surrounding the house were all sorts of cake creatures climbing the walls or playing on the witch’s roof. It was so delightful and beautiful, Essie couldn’t even bear the thought of anyone cutting into it and eating it, but unfortunately that would happen sometime before the day was over.

  At the moment, the residents were either sitting or standing around the lobby awaiting the arrival of the children who always came on Halloween afternoon to collect goodies from Happy Haven residents. Essie held a sack with handles that her daughters had purchased for her years ago. It was full of small candy bars and other treats. Essie was wearing her witch costume, a long black flowing robe that didn’t quite reach the ground and a pointed black hat. As she looked around the room, all the other residents were decked out in similar finery. Some outfits were more elaborate than others; some were new and some were things that Essie knew the resident had worn year after year. She also knew that at the end of the day, there would be an award given for the best costume.

  Sue Barber had placed a box with a cutout slit in the top on the front desk. A sign on the box said, “Best Costume.” There were ballots in a pile next to the box for residents to write in a person’s name. Obviously, with no voting control, it would be easy to “stuff the ballot box” but no one seemed to care and each year the best costume inevitably won. Essie had never won, but then, every year she wore her witch costume which she kept in a bottom dresser drawer. She was lucky, she thought, that her daughters hadn’t found it and tossed it out with all the other clothes they’d thrown away.

  Essie was seated on one of the long sofas in the lobby. Opal and Fay were to her left and Marjorie was to her right. Fay was a railroad conductor—complete with striped hat and red scarf; Opal was a nurse from the 1940s in a white hat, shoes, and hose (she, like Essie, wore the same outfit every year); and Marjorie was probably a hussy, although Essie was sure that that wouldn’t be the term Marjorie would use to describe her outfit: a black and purple sparkly headpiece perched atop her hair and a short satin dress with tassels around the edge. She was also wearing those see-through fishnet stockings, although Essie thought they didn’t look as if they’d catch many fish. Of course, Marjorie wasn’t out to catch fish.

  Soon, the children arrived in their school bus and entered Happy Haven talking and laughing with enthusiasm. Their initial shyness dissipated quickly as they saw the wonderful decorated cake and all the costumed residents. Soon they were moving around the lobby, going from resident to resident, collecting treats from each and stopping to talk to some, particularly those who were in some of the more outlandish costumes.

  Essie loved talking to the children. They were always so curious and they never lied—which meant that they told the truth which could hurt sometimes. They would tell her about her flabby skin or her bald spot on the top of her head. But none of that mattered. She loved them and she knew that their curiosity and honesty were wonderful traits—particularly for those who wanted to be detectives someday, as she was. Maybe next year she should dress up as Sherlock Holmes, not a witch. She closed her eyes for a second as she thought about this exciting possibility.

  “Mom!” called Claudia, shaking her shoulder gently. “Mom, are you asleep?”

  Essie sat up suddenly and was delighted to see her entire family standing in front of her.

  “Hi, Grandma!” said Ned and Bo, both giving her kisses on her cheeks.

  “Hi, Mom!” added Pru.

  “Googling goose feathers!” cried Essie. “What are you all doing here?” Opal, Marjorie, and Fay scooted over and made room for Essie’s family on the sofa. Essie’s daughters sat on either side of her and her two grandsons sat on the floor before her. There were greetings all around. By now, the school children were playing and talking to the other residents. Edward Troy had gone to his Halloween cake and was busy cutting pieces for each child.

  “Wow!” said Ned, “that’s some cake!”

  “It surely is!” agreed Pru.

  “One of the residents made it!” said Essie, not indicating exactly which resident and her own personal connection to the man.

  “She’s really talented!” observed Claudia, as all of them looked at the group of children gathered around the pastry masterpiece.

  “Oh, not a she!” noted Essie.

  “Is that the chef?” asked Ned, gesturing toward Edward Troy who was carefully placi
ng cake slices on paper plates for each child.

  “Yes, it is,” said Essie, smiling. “Now, why are you all here?”

  “Mom,” said Claudia, “we brought you some new clothes!” She handed Essie a department store sack and Pru contributed a sack of her own. Essie found herself overwhelmed with bags—her bag of Halloween treats for the children and now two sacks of new clothes.

  “These will be much more attractive than your witch outfit, Mom,” said Pru, chuckling and fingering Essie’s black gown.

  “I don’t know, Aunt Pru,” added Ned. “Gram looks pretty sharp in that hat!” They all laughed. Essie clutched her sacks full of new clothes.

  “Oh, girls, you didn’t need to do this!” she said. “I really have plenty of things to wear.”

  “I hope you’re not counting the witch outfit,” suggested Ned. There was more laughter.

  “Mom,” said Claudia, “we also wanted to stop by to tell you that Bo’s friend—” She glared at Bo. “Or rather his former friend Dugan pleaded guilty to stealing your jewelry and will be sentenced to probably at least five years or more. He won’t be bothering you or anyone else for a long time.”

  “Oh, dears, that’s a relief!” said Essie.

  Just then, the Happy Haven director, Felix Federico, sauntered by, as usual, greeting everyone as he went. He reached Essie and her entourage.

  “Ah, Miss Essie! Or should I say, the Good Witch of the North?” he exclaimed. “You have your fan club here I see!” He bent low over the sofa, grabbed her hand and kissed it delicately. Essie’s daughters froze, their eyes bulging out.

  “Mr. Federico,” said Essie.

  “Felix,” corrected the man, squeezing Essie’s hand and staring at her with his large brown eyes. “You know to call me Felix, Essie.”