Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined

by Patricia Rockwell

  “Really, Marjorie!” cried Essie.

  “Well, you are unusual, Essie,” replied Marjorie. “Even you would have to agree with that!”

  “I’m not a drug addict!” exclaimed Essie. Opal lifted a finger as if she had an idea. “And I’m not a drug dealer either, Opal! Really! I would think my three best friends would have more faith in me!”

  “If it’s any help,” noted Abbott, still in the center of the room, seemingly trying to manage the flow of information and at the same time extract any additional information, “we don’t suspect Miss Cobb…Essie…of any involvement in this drug ring at all.”

  “There!” cried Essie. “I hope that clears it up for you, Marjorie!”

  “Why me?” asked Marjorie, flouncing. “Opal was just as curious as I was!”

  “Never mind,” said Essie. “As it is, I wouldn’t have any idea what to do with cocaine even if I did recognize it on my lap.”

  “I think you snort it,” suggested Opal.

  “I don’t want to know what to do with it, Opal!” replied Essie.

  “No,” offered Marjorie. “I think you put it in a teaspoon and hold it over a flame and then drink it!”

  “I don’t care!” cried Essie. “Detective! Please! Can you talk to them?”

  “Yes,” said Abbott. “Let’s all sit down!” He grabbed a straight back chair from Essie’s desk and set it in the middle of the room. The women took their seats. Abbott straddled the chair so he could see all four women easily. The women watched him and waited.

  “Now, ladies,” he said. “I wasn’t going to bring anyone else into this except Miss Essie. Obviously, she’s already involved so we can’t really keep her out. I was hoping not to involve any other residents here at Happy Haven, but it’s clear that the four of you are all very close…”

  “Humph!” snorted Essie, still peeved at Marjorie.

  “And not only close, but it appears that all four of you are as involved in Miss Essie’s secret admirer valentine as she is. Just before you arrived, I was explaining to Miss Essie how we wanted her to help us catch this person here at Happy Haven who is apparently involved with this Boston-based drug ring. She has agreed to help and I hope the rest of you will also agree to assist us. Will you?”

  The women looked at each other and then quickly nodded in unison.

  “Wonderful!” he said. “Now…”

  “Detective,” said Opal, interrupting his speech. “Why do you think this drug dealer sent this card to Essie? Why didn’t he just send it to the drug dealer?”

  “As I’ve already explained to Essie,” said Abbott, “her name is being used as a cover for protection in case the Post Office should become suspicious and open the card. If the true recipient’s name were placed on the card, yes, it would get to the person faster, but with much greater risk. This way, the drug dealer here at Happy Haven has some way of knowing that the Boston dealer is going to be sending the cocaine to Essie on a certain day and he or she makes arrangements to intercept it before Essie receives it. In this case, he wasn’t successful.”

  “That’s why he broke into my apartment and searched for it yesterday!” said Essie.

  “He did?” asked Opal. “Did you catch him?”

  “No,” said Essie, “but I know someone was here. And if he was looking for the valentine, he wouldn’t have found it because…”

  “Because you always keep it in your walker basket!” said Marjorie, finishing her sentence.

  “Right!” noted Essie.

  “All of this supports our suspicions,” declared Abbott. “If you ladies have any other information that would apply to the valentine we would love to hear it.”

  “What about Betsy?” asked Opal, tapping her forehead.

  “Betsy?” asked Abbott.

  “Oh, my!” cried Essie. “I forgot about Betsy!”

  “Who is Betsy?” asked Abbott a second time.

  “Betsy Rollingford,” said Essie. “She got a valentine from a secret admirer last year. We talked about our cards and from everything she told me, her card was almost identical to mine.”

  “We may want to speak with Betsy and look at her card,” said Abbott, noting the woman’s name in his black notebook.

  “That’s impossible!” said Essie. “She displayed her card on her television set when she got it and a day or so later, it was gone! She told me she looked everywhere for it and asked all over but she never found it.”

  “Does anyone know this Betsy’s room number?” asked Abbott.

  “Yes,” said Essie because she had learned where the woman’s room was after their discussion at Bingo. She provided the number and Abbott directed Magee to quickly go and see if he could have Betsy Rollingford join the group that had already gathered in Essie’s apartment.

  “It might be a good idea,” suggested Essie, “if I give her a call and warn her you’re on the way. It might be pretty frightening to have a policeman just appear at your door! Unless you’re me, of course!”

  Abbott gave permission and Essie made a brief phone call.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Some cupids kill with arrows, some with traps”

  —Shakespeare

  Not long after, Betsy Rollingford joined the group. She sat demurely on the armchair next to Detective Abbott and across from the sofa where Marjorie and Opal were entrenched.

  “Miss Rollingford,” Abbott began after all the introductions had been made. “Miss Essie tells me that you received a valentine from a secret admirer last year.”

  “I did, Detective,” said Betsy with an unexpected perkiness. “Have you found it?”

  “What?” asked Abbott.

  “Have you found my valentine?” asked Betsy. “It was stolen soon after I received it. I told Essie about it and now I see she’s brought in the police. I can only assume she reported it missing and you gentlemen are hot on the trail. So, have you found it?” Betsy sat primly on the edge of the chair, her hands folded in her lap.

  “Um, no, we haven’t,” replied Abbott, looking back awkwardly at Magee who remained at the door. Magee gave him a shrug.

  “Well, then, what’s this all about?” asked Betsy with a little punch of her hands on her lap.

  “Actually, Miss Rollingford,” said Abbott, “we asked you down here because Miss Essie told us that you had received a valentine similar to the one she received.”

  “Yes,” said Betsy, “that is true. Essie showed me her card at Bingo and it looked very much like the one I received.”

  “Did your card have a little heart on it like Essie’s?” asked Abbott.

  “Oh, yes!” replied Betsy. “But mine was red, not pink like Essie’s. But it was very much the same size as Essie’s—at least from the short look I got. Isn’t it amazing that we both have secret admirers and that they both sent us such similar cards?” She giggled girlishly.

  “You didn’t ever have the opportunity to look inside the heart on your card, did you, Miss Rollingford?” asked Abbott.

  “No,” said Betsy. “Why would I want to do that? Even if I did, it was gone so soon after I put it up on my television. I thought it was a wonderful place to display it; I could see it every time I watched Wheel of Fortune.”

  “Do you have any idea who took it?” asked Abbott. “Do you remember seeing anyone—one of the staff, another resident, a maintenance worker—anyone who seemed particularly interested in your card?”

  “No,” said Betsy, placing her hand against her forehead. “I just remember that it was gone soon after I put it up on my TV.”

  “And you don’t know anyone who might have sent you this card? Someone from Boston?” he continued hammering away.

  “No, Detective,” repeated Betsy firmly. “It was from my secret admirer. If I knew who he was, I would tell you. Besides, it’s more romantic not to know, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied Abbott, again with a glance at Magee who remained speechless at the door.

  Abbott looked up
and away from Betsy Rollingford and directed his attention to all of the women in the room.

  “Have any of you other ladies every received a valentine, or a greeting card of any sort from a secret admirer? Or, more particularly, have you ever received any type of correspondence that might have included some sort of object that might have been filled with a substance as were these hearts in these two valentines?”

  “Substance?” asked Betsy suddenly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Essie’s heart was full of cocaine,” announced Marjorie to Betsy.

  “Oh, no!” Betsy cried. “You think my card had cocaine in it too?”

  “Of course he does, Betsy!” said Marjorie. “That’s why he brought you down here and asked you all those questions.”

  “Now, ladies,” said Abbott, standing as intense discussion broke out among the women. Betsy seemed furious and frightened and the other women all attempted to calm her at the same time. “Please, ladies! Let’s all sit back down and discuss this calmly.” When silence had settled, Abbott resumed his seat. Magee chuckled to himself.

  “Detective,” Betsy said, “you think that my secret admirer sent me drugs?”

  “Not you, Miss Rollingford,” said Abbott. “We believe that these ‘secret admirers’ are actually a drug ring leader in Boston. We’ve been in contact with the Boston Police and we’re attempting to help them identify this individual by first identifying the intended recipient of these valentines here at Happy Haven.”

  “He thinks it’s someone here,” said Essie.

  “Like one of the staff or a kitchen worker,” added Opal.

  “Or even a resident,” said Marjorie.

  “I can’t believe a resident would be a drug kingpin, Marjorie!” snarled Essie. “It’s probably some outside worker. One of those men who come in to do the regular bug spraying or fix the heating. They’re always going in and out of our apartments. A lot of them look real seedy. They look like drug lords.”

  “And what does a drug lord look like, Essie?” asked Opal with her knowing look.

  “Like any of the men who wander in and out of our rooms, Opal,” replied Essie. “They could grab something from one of our apartments and we’d never be the wiser.”

  “Ladies!” said Abbott, again raising his arms in an attempt to achieve order. “That’s what we’re trying to determine. That’s why we need your help. All of your help.” He looked around pointedly from one woman to another.

  “What do you want us to do, Detective?” asked Marjorie, smiling flirtatiously at Detective Abbott, her shoulder flounce particularly noticeable.

  “Several things,” said Abbott. “First, and foremost, don’t do anything to endanger yourselves. If you even suspect anything or anyone, I want you to contact me directly.” At this point, he handed each woman a business card. “That’s my direct line. Call me if you see anything that concerns you.”

  “Oh, I will,” said Marjorie, shoulders gyrating.

  “Second,” said Abbott, obviously ignoring Marjorie’s attempts at seduction, “if anyone should ask about the presence of the police, the cover story is as we discussed. Miss Essie contacted us because she was being harassed by a telephone scammer. That should explain our presence in her apartment. If anyone asks about the rest of you, you can say you were just here to give Miss Essie moral support.”

  “We can do that,” said Opal.

  “Of course we can,” added Betsy. Fay gave a little hand gesture from her wheelchair to indicate that she too was on board with the plan.

  “And finally,” said Abbott, “don’t discuss the whereabouts of your valentine, Miss Essie.”

  “I don’t know its whereabouts!” Essie exclaimed.

  “I know,” replied Abbott. “We will be testing it in our lab and running down any lead we can. We really can’t return it. I think it best that you not tell people that you no longer have the card, but on the other hand, I don’t want you to tell them that you do have it. It’s too dangerous. Of course, he may think you have it, no matter what you say.”

  “Should I say where I keep it?” Essie asked. “If I say it’s in my room, the crook will just wait until I’m out of my room to go look for it and then I’ll never find out who it is. If I say I have it in my basket, he’ll know he won’t have a chance to get it because I always keep my walker with me.”

  “Truthfully, Miss Essie,” said Abbott, “I wouldn’t do much advertising of where the card is or isn’t. I’d just play it coy, if you know what I mean.”

  “Not really,” scoffed Essie. “I usually say what I mean.”

  “But now, Miss Essie,” said Abbott with a flourish, “you’re going to have to do some acting—if you want to help us catch this rascal!”

  “Oh, she does, Detective!” said Marjorie, beaming.

  “We can do this,” said Opal, seriously looking from one friend to another. “We just continue our lives as normal. If someone asks about Essie’s card, we say we really don’t know where it is—and we really don’t know where it is. If someone asks you, Essie, you can say it’s in a safe place—and it is in a safe place. You just don’t have to tell anyone that that safe place is the police lab.”

  “That makes sense,” said Essie, reflecting on Opal’s sensible reasoning.

  “It does,” said Abbott. “How does that sound to the rest of you?” The remaining women nodded their agreement.

  With the strategy devised, the women seemingly all breathed a sigh of relief. Abbott and Magee bid the five farewell with a final reminder of the importance of keeping in touch. Abbott also told them that an undercover police officer would be keeping an eye on them in case they ran into an emergency. When the policemen had departed, the women broke out into a riotous conversation.

  “This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened at Happy Haven,” announced Marjorie.

  “Not to me,” noted Betsy Rollingford. “I just wanted my valentine back.” She pouted but remained seated.

  “You’re all being ridiculous,” said Opal. “We need to snap out of this! Nothing has changed. There is a slight possibility that we might have an opportunity to aid the police in apprehending a criminal—but that possibility is remote, so I suggest we just go about our business and forget entirely about this little episode.”

  “Opal,” cried Essie. “You can forget it if you like! But this drug dealer and his little cocaine-filled valentine has wreaked havoc on my life. I sat in this chair for hours with that foul powder drenching my trousers, not knowing whether or not I’d be dead before the police managed to get to my door, not knowing whether I had exposed my darling granddaughter to the horrible stuff, not knowing whether I had exposed you, and Marjorie, and Fay, and all my other friends here at Happy Haven to some horrible poison! I can’t just forget it! And I’m not going to forget it. I’m going to find this creature that did this to me and to all of us!”

  “And how do you plan to do that, Essie?” asked Opal.

  “I’m not going to play coy like Detective Abbott suggests, that’s for sure!” she declared. “If the only way to catch this drug dealer is to lure him into grabbing my valentine, then, by glory goose bumps, I’m going to have a valentine for him to steal!”

  “Essie,” gasped Betsy, “that sounds very dangerous!”

  “Very risky!” added Marjorie.

  “Not only am I going to have a valentine for our friendly drug dealer to swipe,” noted Essie, now in full plotting mode, “but I’m going to spread the word all around Happy Haven. That valentine is going to go everywhere with me in my basket. If that drug guy wants it, he’ll have to come rip it out of my walker seat!”

  “No, Essie!” said Opal. “This is foolish talk!”

  “Foolish, maybe, Opal,” said Essie, “but I’ve been pushed to it. These drug people picked the wrong person when they sent that secret admirer valentine to Miss Essie Cobb. I will not just sit around meekly and wait for the police to tumble to our culprit. I’m going to get him myself!”


  Chapter Seventeen

  “Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke”

  —Lynda Barry

  The women did their best to try to talk some sense into Essie, but she was resolute. After promising her friends that she would be careful, the group disbanded, being careful to exit Essie’s apartment discreetly, one at a time into an empty hallway.

  When she was finally alone, Essie was attacked not by fear but by hunger. She suddenly realized that during the hubbub with the police and her friends’ arrival, she had missed lunch in the dining hall. Her stomach was now growling ferociously and it was still hours before dinner.

  She rolled over to her small kitchen to see if there was anything in her refrigerator that she could munch on. Inside she saw mostly empty shelves. There was a shriveled up apple in the fruit bin. I’d better get rid of that, she thought. Far in the back on the lowest shelf she saw a package of something wrapped neatly in aluminum foil. Now how long has that been in there? she wondered. As Essie virtually never ate anything in her own room and always ate her meals in the dining hall, it was a miracle that there was anything in her refrigerator at all. She closed the door in annoyance and reached up over the handle bars of her walker to the cupboard doors. On the middle shelf, she found an old box of cereal. Reading the label, she discovered that this brand included nuts.

  “Super squirrels! Nuts!” she cried. “Nuts are protein. Just what I need.” She ripped open the top of the box and reached inside for a handful. Gulping down the flakes and tiny nut bits, she soon felt the gnawing in her stomach subside. She grabbed her water glass from the sink and swallowed a full glass of water to wash it all down.

  “Probably the quickest lunch I’ve ever consumed,” she said aloud. “This will certainly make me appreciate the food in the dining hall more.” Feeling full, she made a quick stop in her bathroom before heading out into the Happy Haven hallway. She realized that she hadn’t given a great deal of thought as to how she would handle it, but she felt it was important to make clear to her fellow residents and to the staff that nothing had changed; she still had the valentine, and she was excited to learn who her secret admirer was.