Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined

by Patricia Rockwell

  Ultimately, Essie realized what she would have to do. No one at Happy Haven could or should be exposed to this problem. It was her dilemma and she would have to solve it. Cautiously, she reached out for her telephone on the end table to her left. Her movement sent particles of powder aloft and swirling around her knees. She turned her head, attempting to avoid contact with the unknown substance. She tapped in 911 on her receiver and soon an operator answered.

  “911. What is your emergency?” said the operator.

  “I have received an envelope in the mail from an unknown person and there is a fine white powder inside. It’s on my lap. I don’t know what to do,” she said, providing the operator with what she thought was a succinct description of the most pertinent pieces of information that police officials would need to know to determine what to do—if anything.

  The operator didn’t waste any time. She immediately asked for Essie’s name and location and assured her that an officer would be there shortly. She also attempted to acquire information as to Essie’s response to the powder. Essie assured the operator that she was experiencing no physical symptoms other than fear. The operator continued to ask questions and provide information that Essie realized was designed to calm Essie while giving the police time to arrive.

  “Ma’am,” asked the operator, “you say you’re a resident at Happy Haven Assisted Living Facility?”

  “Yes,” repeated Essie and once again she gave the operator the address and her room number.

  “Is the door to your room open?”

  “No,” replied Essie, understanding what the operator was attempting to determine. “It’s closed but it’s not locked. Please just tell whoever comes to come right in.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the operator, “please remain where you are. Try not to move around. We have someone on the way.”

  Essie was gratified that apparently they were taking her problem seriously. She had worried that when the operator discovered that she was an elderly woman in an assisted living facility they would dismiss her concern as frivolous. She carefully lifted her arm in an attempt to check her wrist watch. How long has it been? she wondered. Obviously, the police couldn’t arrive instantaneously, but it did seem as if quite some time had passed. Of course, she reasoned, when you’re sitting in a rigid position with a layer of what might potentially be a deadly poison in your lap, time probably did seem to go by more slowly.

  This would probably all turn out to be nothing. The police would arrive, take one look at the powder, immediately recognize it as some obvious household substance that they dealt with every day, and laugh at her under their breath. That would be fine with her. She’d rather feel foolish than allow any of her friends or any of the staff at Happy Haven to be put in jeopardy.

  It had to be a coincidence. Just some simple ingredient that her secret admirer had used to fill the heart. Nothing sinister. She simply didn’t know anyone who bore her any ill will and would want to hurt her. Or did she? She thought and thought. Even if there was such a person, why go to all this trouble? Or if it was a terrorist. Someone who was out to hurt anyone. Many people. If so, why go about it in such a convoluted manner? If anyone wanted to terrorize people by sending poison through the mail, surely they would send it to someone who was more in the public eye. And surely they would make the poison more accessible to the victim when they opened the letter. Indeed, if she hadn’t been so curious about the creation of this valentine, she might never have discovered the powder inside the little heart. The powder might never have been released. That was surely not what a terrorist would want to do.

  The operator was talking to her again. Probably just to make sure she was still there and hadn’t succumbed to the effects of the poison. If the stuff on her lap was poison, it obviously wasn’t a quick-acting type. Essie didn’t feel the least bit ill. It was probably truly some sort of salt. She lifted her knee slightly because her rigid position was becoming very uncomfortable. The powder again puffed up into the air. She could see little clouds of it drift off towards her window. Great, she thought. Oh well, better than towards my nose.

  “Miss Cobb,” she heard the operator say from the receiver that she had put down. “Are you still there, Miss Cobb?”

  She picked up the phone and spoke into it.

  “I’m here,” she replied. “It’s just hard to sit so still. I’m trying not to move around. Every time I do, this stuff flies up in the air.”

  “We understand, Miss Cobb,” replied the operator calmly. “It won’t be long. We have officers on the way.”

  At that moment, there was a knock on her door.

  “Yes?” she called out.

  “Miss Cobb!” came a voice from outside. “It’s the police.”

  “The door is open. Please come in,” Essie replied with tremendous relief.

  The door opened slowly and a man’s head peeked inside. He glanced around the room, his eyes focusing on Essie seated on her recliner. He motioned to someone behind him and quickly and quietly, the man and a woman officer entered Essie’s apartment. The female officer gently closed the door behind her.

  The man came over to Essie and the woman remained behind, apparently guarding the door.

  “Miss Cobb,” he said. “What’s this about a powdery substance you received in the mail?”

  Essie pointed down at her lap, her shoulders dropping in relief.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Love and marriage go together like angel cake and anthrax.”

  —Julie Burchill

  “I’m Officer Magee and this is Officer Chavez,” he said. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at this stuff?”

  Essie shook her head, her heart pounding as the man kneeled down beside her and stared at the heart she was clutching in her hand and the little rivulet of powder that had dribbled down onto her trousers.

  “Hmmm,” he said, staring at the powder while he balanced precariously in his bended position. He obviously was attempting to get as close as possible without actually touching the powder or Essie. He stood up and walked over to the female officer at the door. They whispered a bit. Essie couldn’t make out what they were saying, but soon the man returned and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket. He also extracted a small, blue, plastic face mask, the kind Essie had seen medical people wear sometimes when she went to her doctor’s office. He slipped the mask over his face.

  “Just a precaution, Miss Cobb,” he said warmly. He bent down again and reached out and carefully took the tiny heart that Essie was clutching with such force that even she did not realize how firmly she had it in her hands. “It’s okay, Miss Cobb. I’ve got it. You can let go.” Essie slowly released her fingers from around the heart. Officer Magee reached into his back pocket with his free hand and brought out a large, clear plastic envelope, like the kind the dining hall sometimes put sandwiches in for Saturday night picnic dinners. He carefully slipped the heart into the baggie, being cautious not to allow any more powder to fall onto Essie. Then he rubbed the top of the bag together and it made an audible snap, closing securely.

  “I’m not really certain what we should do about all this powder on your lap. I’m afraid if I try to scoop it up, it will just disperse even more. I’m thinking we’d better just have you stay seated like this and not move until we get some idea of what we’re dealing with.”

  “Okay,” replied Essie in a hoarse voice. She felt a certain amount of relief now that someone was there who seemed to know what they were doing and who evidently had the resources to do something. However, there was still powder on her lap and that was causing her a great deal of anguish.

  Magee placed the baggie with the powder-filled heart in a manila envelope that Chavez pulled from a clipboard she was holding under her arm.

  “Get this over to the lab, Chavez,” he said to the woman. “Asap.” Chavez nodded and slipped the envelope under the clip on her board and quietly exited Essie’s room.

  “I’m going to stay here with you, Mis
s Cobb,” he replied. “Just in case.”

  Essie knew his unstated message was “just in case this is poison and you’ve been exposed.” She tuned in to her bodily functions. Her breathing seemed unusually fast, but that could be from all the excitement. She didn’t seem to be experiencing any other physical symptoms.

  As if he was reading her mind, Magee asked, “Are you feeling okay, Miss Cobb?”

  “I think so,” she said.

  “Can you hold on just a bit?” he asked. “I’m going to call headquarters and see what they want to do about this. Obviously, we can’t leave you sitting here indefinitely with all this…stuff…all over you.” He smiled warmly at her, but then gave her a serious glare as if to say, don’t move.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m used to sitting here in my recliner.”

  “Good!” he replied, rising. He moved over to the window and looked out while he pulled out a cell phone and quickly called a number. Essie couldn’t hear his whispered conversation, but she did gather that he was attempting to convey some urgency. Every so often, Magee would turn and look at her, sitting, she imagined rather forlornly, in her chair. Then he turned back and responded to the voice on the phone. She caught several words—strange powder, unknown sender, fine, white—were some that she recognized. Finally, Magee finished the call and returned to Essie. He sat cautiously on the edge of the sofa next to her.

  “Miss Cobb,” he began.

  “Call me Essie,” Essie said.

  “Essie,” he said. “Can you tell me about this powder? Do you know who sent it?”

  “I got it in the mail yesterday,” she explained. “It was in this beautiful valentine from a secret admirer.” She pointed to the card on the end table between her and the policeman. He reached over cautiously and picked up the card, his hands still wearing the rubber gloves.

  “Wow!” he said with a whistle. “This is some fancy card!”

  “I know,” said Essie. “I was flattered, but mystified. I tried to figure out who might have sent it but I couldn’t. My friends all tried to help me figure it out but we simply haven’t been able to. My granddaughter is a graphic designer and she thought that the card was made by the person who sent it; she said she didn’t think anyone had bought it in a store.” Essie explained to the officer how Mindy had convinced her that the card had been created just for her. “Oh, no! Now I’ve put my granddaughter’s health and safety in jeopardy by letting her touch this card!” She felt a wave of anguish shake her entire body and her hands flew to her face before she had even considered the consequences.

  “Essie,” Magee said quickly, “please don’t touch your face! Let’s wait and see what our lab finds out about that powder first, okay?”

  Essie quickly dropped her hands back to her lap.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, sobbing. “I’ve shown this card all over Happy Haven. If it’s poisonous, I’ve exposed everyone here!”

  “Now, let’s not jump the gun,” said Magee. “We don’t know it’s poison yet. We’re just being cautious.”

  “But what else could it be?” she cried, as several more tears dripped down her face. She used her shoulder to rub them away.

  “You know, Essie,” he confided, “this isn’t the first mysterious substance case I’ve seen.”

  “It isn’t?” she asked.

  “Nope,” replied the young officer with an expressive smile. “Last year, Chavez and I got called out to a house where a young mother found her toddler had gotten outside and had wandered back into the house covered with a blue liquid.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Essie, now more concerned for a baby she didn’t even know than herself.

  “Yep,” he said, shaking his head. “We thought he might have accidentally gotten into some weed killer in the garage. The mother didn’t know where he’d gone. We had to scoop some of that substance off the kid and have it analyzed in the lab. We would have taken the kid to the hospital, but he wasn’t showing any adverse symptoms. Luckily, the blue stuff turned out to be some weird flower they had in their garden. The kid decided to eat several of the blossoms. It was totally harmless, just messy. But I tell you, that mother was worried sick. And, boy, did she feel guilty.”

  “She should have. She let her baby run away and didn’t know where he’d gone!” exclaimed Essie.

  “Kids are quick!” said Magee, smiling. “I know; I’ve got one of my own.”

  “Oh, you’re married?” asked Essie.

  “For about two years now,” replied Magee. “We have a son who just turned one. He’s into everything. You really need eyes in the back of your head to keep track of them.”

  “Oh, I know! I raised three myself!” said Essie.

  “And they survived, right?” asked Magee.

  “So far,” said Essie, now looking down again at her lap and the small streams of white.

  Magee quickly turned the topic of conversation in a different direction. He asked Essie about herself and her time living at Happy Haven and she was happy to have the distraction. After quite a while, she had calmed somewhat. Soon, there was a knock on the door and Officer Chavez popped her head inside.

  “Hey, Chavez,” said Magee from the sofa. “You’re back!”

  Chavez entered, followed by a man in a long overcoat and hat. Chavez remained by the door, her police jacket still on. The tall man moved over to Magee.

  “Detective,” said Magee, standing. “This is Miss Cobb, Detective. Essie, this is Detective Abbott.” Having made the appropriate introductions, Magee stepped out of the way, and wandered over to the window where his partner was waiting.

  “Miss Cobb,” said Abbott, “we’ve just received the report from our lab on your mystery substance here.” He looked down at Essie’s lap quizzically. “Happy to report, there’s no poison. None at all!”

  Essie felt a gigantic rush of relief course through her body. Not only was she safe, but her friends at Happy Haven and her granddaughter and any other person who may have been exposed were also safe.

  “Oh, my!” she cried. “I’m so relieved! Thank you, Detective!”

  “You’re welcome, Miss Cobb,” replied the detective. “We take tampering with the U.S. mail very seriously. And we certainly don’t like the idea of anyone taking advantage of our senior citizens—such as yourself.”

  “You really did that quickly!” said Essie.

  “We’ve got a good lab,” he said.

  “I guess I can just brush this stuff off of my lap then,” she said. “I’ve been a virtual prisoner of my chair since I spilled it.” She bent forward as she started to get up and out of her recliner.

  “Um, just a minute, Miss Cobb,” said the detective, holding up a hand. “Not so fast.”

  “What?” she asked, freezing in place.

  “It’s true the lab tested the powder and cleared it as any type of poisonous substance. But that’s not the end of it.”

  Magee and Chavez looked intently at Abbott as he spoke. They both moved closer. Essie was riveted in her recliner as the big man with the thick brown hair suddenly became the focus of attention in Essie’s small apartment.

  “The lab discovered something else about this substance of yours,” said Abbott, staring at Essie.

  “They did?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Luckily, the lab is very thorough in its testing. They not only checked this substance to be certain that it wasn’t poison. They also checked to determine what it was.”

  “And what is it?” asked Essie, totally mystified.

  “Cocaine,” replied Abbott.

  The room was silent. Chavez and Magee exchanged glances. Essie felt as if she had been slapped in the face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, towering over her. “High grade cocaine, ready for distribution. This small amount in your little heart here would probably reap about $5,000 for a dealer on the open market. Not a fortune, but this stuff isn’t just beach sand either.”

  “I don’t under
stand,” said Essie. “Why would anyone send me $5,000 worth of cocaine? I don’t use drugs. I don’t know anyone who uses drugs. Except, of course, those that are approved by Medicare.”

  “That’s definitely something we intend to find out,” said Abbott. “That card you say this stuff was in? Where is it? Do you have the envelope it came in?”

  Essie picked up the card and envelope and handed them to the detective.

  “Chavez,” he said, holding the card and envelope by the edges. Chavez came over with another plastic evidence bag and Abbott dropped the card and envelope into it. “Get this to the lab.” Chavez headed out with a nod.

  “One thing, Miss Cobb,” Abbott said when Chavez had disappeared. “You don’t need to sit like a statue in that chair anymore. Why don’t we get you out of there?”

  “Yes, Essie,” added Magee, coming over. “You can stand up and we can have you shake off the powder on your lap.”

  “Just how much is the stuff on my lap worth, do you think?” she asked as they helped her get out of her chair.

  “Couple hundred bucks, probably,” replied Abbott. The two men cautiously helped Essie shake her clothes and stretch her legs.

  “Well, that was an expensive spill, wasn’t it?” she sighed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It is impossible to love and to be wise.”

  —Francis Bacon

  After Essie had stretched her legs a bit, Detective Abbott took off his overcoat and laid it carefully over the back of one of Essie’s armchairs. He motioned to Magee to stand by the door.