Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined

by Patricia Rockwell

  Essie’s attempt to disappear was to no avail. Marjorie and Opal both punched her in the ribs.

  “This is Essie, Dr. Love,” yelled Marjorie, pointing at her friend.

  “She has a secret admirer,” added Opal, nodding and smiling idiotically at the speaker. Essie had never seen Opal behave like a school girl before, yet here she was acting like a love-struck teenager.

  “So,” declared Dr. Love, reaching out his hand and grabbing Essie’s hand, and almost effortlessly lifting her from the depths of the sofa and bringing her up to the front of the crowd with him. “So, you are the lady who has a secret admirer?” He was holding both of Essie’s hands tightly now and looking straight into her eyes. Essie could smell his after shave and it smelled really good. A manly odor. This man not only knew a lot about romance, he obviously also put what he knew into practice.

  “Uh, yes,” she mumbled as several cameras flashed. Apparently, a photograph of Dr. Love holding hands with a female was far more interesting than one of him just talking. Even if the female was ninety years old.

  “So, Miss Essie,” Dr. Love said to Essie, and loud enough for the entire group to hear. “What do you know about this admirer? Do you have any ideas who it might be?”

  “No,” replied Essie. This sad response brought about a collective sigh.

  “You mean,” continued Dr. Love, “you don’t think it’s one of these fine gentlemen…” he said and gestured to some of the men in the audience.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Essie. “It came from Boston.” The crowd laughed.

  “Maybe it’s Paul Revere,” suggested Dr. Love gallantly.

  “I’m old, Dr. Love, but I’m not that old,” snorted Essie. The crowd laughed and more cameras flashed.

  “Well, Miss Essie,” said Dr. Love, “I hope you figure out who your admirer is, but if you don’t, just remember that the concept of the secret admirer is truly one of the most romantic in all the history of love. Someone who loves but who doesn’t expect to ever have this love reciprocated. Now, that’s truly special. Don’t you think?” He spread his free hand as he described the phenomenon of the secret admirer to the audience, all the while clasping Essie’s hands with his other hand. Essie considered his ideas. Of course, she knew it was all rubbish, but he had a nice chin and he smelled really good.

  Eventually, Dr. Love assisted Essie back to her seat and concluded his presentation. Sue Barber jumped up and thanked him profusely for his entertaining talk and the crowd agreed by applauding loudly for a long time. After the speech, Dr. Love continued to speak informally with Sue and several of the reporters came forward and asked to take close-ups. One cameraman wanted a repeat photo of Dr. Love holding Essie’s hands, so she obliged more than willingly by posing again. Marjorie, Opal, and Fay seemed to enjoy all of this vicariously from their seats on the sofa. Finally, Dr. Love made his exit and residents and guests dispersed.

  “Essie,” said Marjorie excitedly, “you’re a star!”

  “They’ll probably put your picture in the newspaper,” added Opal. The four women now found themselves almost alone in the deserted lobby.

  “What good will that do me?” asked Essie. “Will it help me identify my admirer?”

  “Quiet, Essie,” said Marjorie.

  “That’s not what you were saying a bit ago, Marjorie!” said Essie. “You were more than willing to volunteer me as the recipient of a secret admirer card for Dr. Love.”

  “And you loved every minute of it,” noted Marjorie.

  “It’s true, Essie,” added Opal. “You practically fainted when that man took your hand and raised it to his lips.”

  “Well, he smelled good,” said Essie.

  “I smell good,” offered Opal, “but you don’t faint when I touch you.”

  “Never mind, Opal,” sneered Essie. “You’re making too much of this.”

  “Besides,” countered Opal. “I wasn’t the one who volunteered you. It was Dave Esperti, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, Essie,” added Marjorie, “Dave seems to have a bit of a crush on you.”

  “As does Hubert Darby,” said Opal.

  “And a secret admirer—fake or not! How come you have all the boyfriends, Essie?” asked Marjorie.

  “Probably because I don’t want any boyfriends,” said Essie, scowling. “This conversation is exhausting. I have work to do.”

  “You mean like a nap?” asked Opal.

  “You try yoga, Opal, and I bet you’ll want a nap too!” snapped Essie. At that moment, Santos passed through the lobby and headed towards her hallway carrying a food tray. “See you all later,” she said cheerily. She pushed herself up, wobbly from the soft sofa, and limped uncomfortably over to the far wall where she had parked her walker. She grabbed the handles and backed it out of the group of other vehicles. She headed off through the family room, following close on Santos’s heels.

  At the end of the corridor, she hung back, peeking around the corner. As she looked down the hallway, she saw Santos stop at Grace Bloom’s doorway and knock. The door opened promptly and Santos entered.

  “Root beer floats!” she cried to herself. “That does it!” She pushed her walker around the corner and down the hall to Grace Bloom’s doorway. Without hesitation, she knocked. She knocked a second time. She could hear people inside mumbling. Finally, Grace opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  “Essie!” she cried, obviously surprised. “What do you want?”

  “I want Santos,” said Essie. “I saw him come in here with a food tray. I assumed it was because you are sick, Grace. But you don’t look sick to me!”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  “There’s a lot to be said for self-delusionment when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  —Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

  Grace appeared mystified and remained clutching the door frame, staring at Essie. Finally, Essie saw Santos’s head pop up over Grace’s.

  “Miss Essie!” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask the same of you, Santos!” said Essie, pointing her finger. “You told me you weren’t bringing trays to Grace. You obviously lied.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, Miss Essie,” Santos whispered.

  Grace shrugged her shoulders and looked up at the young man. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she sighed. “We might as well let her in. She’s going to pester us until we do.” Santos gave Grace a pained and quizzical look. Eventually, he relented and the door was opened. Santos and Grace stood aside and allowed Essie to enter Grace’s small apartment. This living room was almost identical to Essie’s. Of course, Grace had different furniture, but Essie knew exactly where the bedroom and bathroom were located because the floor plan was the same as hers. Nothing about Grace’s homey apartment would indicate that she was ill. Essie saw no signs of medicine or piles of tissues or anything medical. Grace was dressed and showed no obvious signs of distress. She didn’t even see the food tray that Santos had brought. It was neither in Grace’s small kitchen nor anywhere visible in her living room.

  “So?” asked Essie. “What’s all the secrecy? Why are you bringing Grace a food tray? Are you sick, Grace? I’m just concerned.”

  “Sometimes, Essie,” said Grace, hands on hips, “sometimes it’s best to stay out of other people’s business.” She shook her head in annoyance.

  “I am sure Miss Essie will keep secret, Miss Bloom,” said Santos to Grace.

  “What secret?” asked Essie.

  “Oh, Lord!” sighed Grace. “Come on! I’ll show you!” She motioned for Essie to follow her into the bedroom. Santos followed the two women. Arriving in the bedroom, Essie saw immediately what Santos and Grace had been working so hard to keep secret. On one side of the room was Grace’s small bed, flush against the wall. On the other side, on the floor, a large blanket was spread out, surrounded by a wall of pillows. Inside the pillows, flailing around were six or seven rambunctious little white and black puppies of an indetermin
ate breed. They were all making sad, whiny noises. A small doll’s bottle full of milk resided on Grace’s nightstand. The food tray that Santos had apparently delivered was on Grace’s bed. Instead of a plate of food, it held a paper carton of milk.

  “Puppies!” cried Essie. “That’s your big secret?”

  “Obviously,” said Grace, “I can’t let the staff know. Pets are not allowed at Happy Haven. You know that, Essie.”

  Essie did know this restriction and although sometimes Happy Haven made exceptions to this rule, such as when a resident required a companion dog, residents were not allowed to bring in pets merely for social purposes.

  “How many are there?” asked Essie.

  “Six,” said Grace. “The mother is dead. My grandson found the puppies behind his home. He wanted to keep them and care for them himself, but his parents…”

  “Grandson beg Miss Bloom to take puppies,” added Santos. “She very good mother to puppies.” He smiled at Essie. “You understand, Miss Essie. You understand about taking care of babies.” And, of course, Essie did understand. She had been a mother—never of dogs before—but she could certainly understand Grace Bloom’s determination not to see these little creatures abandoned after having lost their mother.

  “My husband would have insisted on taking them in when he was alive,” added Grace. “He was a vet and he would have taken these puppies in without a second thought. I couldn’t do otherwise. Santos has been helping me by bringing me milk for them and by babysitting them so I could get out to my meals and other things from time to time. He’s also found new homes for most of them when they are old enough.”

  “Yes, Santos is good about that,” added Essie. “Well, don’t worry, Grace. Your secret is safe with me. I’m surely not going to tell anyone. And, if you need some help babysitting these little fellows, just let me know. I have a bit of experience in that area myself.” She smiled warmly at the two human puppy parents and they returned her smile. Essie knelt down, her knees creaking audibly, and rubbed the nose of one of the pups. The little dog responded by licking Essie’s hand madly and whimpering.

  Eventually, after everyone had made peace with each other, Essie left Grace Bloom’s apartment and rolled herself back down the corridor to her own place. When she arrived, she flung herself into her recliner, moaning painfully from all of her recent activities. She started to drift off, but before she allowed herself to sleep, she reached over to her walker just to check on the envelope in her basket. She realized that she hadn’t looked at it since yoga class, and she felt the need to double check to make sure it was still there. When she raised the black seat lid, she gasped. The cream-colored envelope was not in its usual spot on the top of the pile of objects. She rummaged through her belongings in the basket. Maybe the card had fallen down the side and slipped to the bottom of the pile. She brought out everything from the basket and carefully sifted through every item. No. The fake valentine was missing. There was no doubt. She had not misplaced it. Someone had taken it between the time she had left yoga and the time she returned from Grace Bloom’s apartment. She reviewed where she had been and considered the most logical time and place for the drug dealer to have absconded with the valentine.

  The obvious answer was during Dr. Love’s speech. Essie had left her walker near the wall with all the other walkers. She had sat on the sofa with her friends during the presentation. There were so many people milling about during Dr. Love’s speech. She also had to admit that she wasn’t really paying very close attention to her walker during the speech. Anyone could have passed by the walkers by the wall and surreptitiously lifted the seat and discreetly lifted out her fake valentine. It was on the top. It would be easy to steal. Even so, Essie wasn’t panicked. She realized that what she had expected to happen, what she had hoped would happen, had happened. The dealer had struck. Now she hoped that her plan would work and that the Happy Haven drug dealer would fall victim to it and would soon be exposed. She knew, however, that time was of the essence. Even though she hadn’t informed Detective Abbott of her plan in advance, now that the card was gone, she believed that she needed to let him know—both because it would soon be likely that he would be able to arrest the dealer, and if anything should go wrong when the dealer discovered the surprise that Essie had planted inside the little heart and the dealer responded with anger or violence, the police would be there to protect the residents, including Essie.

  She reached for her telephone and got out the business card that Detective Abbott had given her from her basket. She dialed Abbott’s private number. The man answered promptly and Essie explained her situation. Abbott was shocked and not terribly thrilled that Essie had implemented this plot to catch the drug dealer on her own, but even so, he informed Essie that he and his officers would be over to Happy Haven immediately. He told her to stay put. Essie assumed he meant for her to stay in her room. Of course, Essie had no intention of doing that. She wanted to be somewhere where she could see if and when the dealer revealed himself. She believed it would be sooner rather than later. Surely, now that the dealer had the card in his possession, it wouldn’t be long before he tried to open the little fake heart and remove what he assumed would be his supply of cocaine. What a surprise was awaiting him!

  Essie put her exhaustion on the back burner and agonizingly dragged herself out of her recliner. Grabbing her trusty walker, which she thought of warmly now as her virtual partner in crime detection, she headed out to the lobby.

  Amazingly enough, the lobby that had so recently been filled with people was now almost completely empty. Only a few residents sat in front of the fireplace. One man was reading a newspaper as he enjoyed the warmth. Another lady appeared to be waiting for someone. She had on her coat and hat and was looking towards the front entrance. Essie carefully chose a high-backed chair in a corner where she could view most of the entire lobby without too many people seeing her.

  Phyllis stood at the front desk talking on the phone. A few kitchen workers moved around in the dining hall. Essie could see them through the glass walls setting up tables for dinner. Violet Hendrickson entered quickly from her office near the main entrance. She appeared agitated. She headed over to Phyllis who quickly hung up the phone when she saw the Happy Haven director coming towards her in an annoyed state. Essie observed their heated discussion from afar. Violet was showing Phyllis her hands. She rubbed her hands together and pointed at them. Phyllis looked startled and uncomfortable. She held up her hand for Violet to wait at the desk and she headed into the little back room behind the counter. Violet scowled and looked around in obvious annoyance. Essie tried to see Violet’s hands to see what was upsetting her about them, but Violet had her palms placed flat down on the counter. Soon, Phyllis returned with a bottle of a clear liquid and some cotton balls. Violet grabbed the items with nary a thank you to Phyllis and stormed off into her office.

  Now, I wonder what sort of substance Violet got on her hands? thought Essie. Could it be ink? If so, I wonder where she got it from? Essie smiled to herself. Was this little mystery coming to a close?

  At that moment, Detective Abbott entered the main entrance. He was followed by Chavez and Magee. Phyllis looked shocked to see the two police officers. Abbott came over to Phyllis and spoke to her. Chavez and Magee stood behind him, looking authoritative. Abbott looked around and his eyes fell on Essie sitting in the far corner. He motioned for Chavez and Magee to remain at the main entrance which they did, stationing themselves on either side of the doorway. Abbott wandered over to Essie, and calmly took a seat on the brick fireplace edge next to her chair.

  “So, Miss Essie,” he said. “You’re out to catch this crook on your own, are you?” He shook his head patronizingly.

  “Yes, Detective,” replied Essie, “and I believe I have succeeded.”

  “Oh?” asked Abbott. “You mean you caught this crook? Where is he?” Abbott looked around skeptically. He crossed his arms and smiled at Essie.

  Essie explained her fake valenti
ne and how she had set it to trap the dealer. She told Abbott how she had shown the card all over Happy Haven in hopes of attracting the culprit to try to swipe it. When she found the card missing, she realized that the dealer had indeed taken the card, so she came down to see if the dealer would show himself.

  “Show himself?” asked Abbott.

  “Yes, Detective,” replied Essie. “If anyone opened that card I made, then went further and cut open the little heart I made—and nobody but the drug dealer would have any reason to do that—then they’d find themselves with their hands covered with indelible ink. I believe you’ll discover that there is one member of our staff who now has very black palms.”

  “Who?” asked Abbott.

  “Violet Hendrickson,” said Essie. “The Director of Happy Haven. She just retreated to her office with some sort of cleaner. I believe she’s trying to remove the ink from her hands.”

  “Miss Essie,” said Abbott firmly. “Wait here.” He motioned to Chavez and Magee to follow him and the three police officers headed back down the office hallway next to the main entrance.

  Essie remained in her chair in the lobby for what seemed a very long time. Eventually, however, Abbott returned from the office hallway followed by Chavez and Magee who were escorting Violet Hendrickson between them. Violet was handcuffed and she was staring down at the floor. Her face was red and tear-stained. Essie almost felt sorry for her—but not quite. Abbott motioned Chavez and Magee to take Violet away. Phyllis witnessed this whole event silently, her mouth wide open the entire time. The other residents also looked on, apparently stunned as the Happy Haven director was arrested and taken away in police custody.

  Abbott stood for a moment at the counter, apparently explaining things to Phyllis. Then he stepped back over to where Essie was sitting.

  “You are some lady, Miss Essie,” said Abbott with a long whistle. “I don’t suppose you’d like a job on the narcotics task force, would you?”