Papoosed: An Essie Cobb Senior Sleuth Mystery

by Patricia Rockwell

  “Yes, Essie,” agreed Marjorie. “We’re glad we could help you out in this emergency, but you can’t keep this baby here. You have to figure out a different plan.”

  “What?” asked Essie. “If I let the staff know about Antonio, they’ll report him to social services and put him in a foster home. Then Maria may never get him back.”

  “If she deserted him,” offered Opal, “she shouldn’t get him back!”

  “She didn’t desert him. You don’t know the whole story, Opal!” argued Essie.

  “Then tell us,” Opal snapped back. But before Essie could open her mouth to explain, there was a knock on her door.

  Chapter Five

  “Diaper backward spells repaid. Think about it.”

  –Marshall McLuhan

  The four women froze. No one said a word as they looked back and forth from one to the other. Then, Essie quickly motioned for Marjorie and Fay to go to her bedroom with the baby and for Opal to stay seated on the sofa. As the women hurried to their appointed positions, Essie moved to the door, all the while giving Opal a “shh”ing gesture.

  “Lorena!” announced Essie loudly as she peeked through a crack in the doorway.

  “You expectin’ someone else, Miss Essie?” asked a large black woman almost bursting out of her turquoise trousers and matching print uniform top. In her thick curly locks she wore a small crocheted Santa face as a hair decoration. “You ready for your night pills and your pj’s, Miss Essie, or you gonna’ keep me coolin’ my heels out here in the hall all night?” demanded the aide, hands on hips, with a rhythmical roll of her head and eyes.

  “No, Lorena,” said Essie, cringing, “I guess you can come in.” She rolled back inside and the plump nurses’ aide followed, shutting the door behind herself. “Oh, uh, Lorena, this is my friend Opal. She stopped by for a . . . a visit.”

  Lorena stopped in her tracks just inside the door as she observed the other woman sitting primly on the sofa. Both older ladies were smiling broad Cheshire cat grins as if they had just been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.

  “Miss Opal,” said Lorena, nodding in greeting. “It’s nice to see Miss Essie making friends.”

  “Oh, Essie and I are tablemates,” explained Opal calmly to the aide. “We’ve been friends for a long time. We were . . . uh . . . selecting a secret Santa gift!”

  “Planning a surprise party!” said Essie at the same time.

  “How nice!” replied Lorena, befuddled, as she went about her regular routine of opening Essie’s kitchen cupboard and removing a locked pill box. “My husband thought he was gettin’ me a surprise Christmas present last year, but the doofus went and hid it under our bed. Not too bright, huh? As if I don’t look there just before Christmas. What about your pajamas, Essie?” She used a small key from around her wrist to unlock the box.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Essie. “I forgot! I didn’t realize it had gotten so late, Lorena! Opal and I must have lost track of time we were so busy . . . uh, planning that Christmas . . .”

  “Surprise,” supplied Opal, smiling expansively for Lorena. “We’re planning a Christmas surprise party for one of our friends who has a birthday near Christmas and she never gets a party.” Opal gave Essie a knowing nod to indicate that their stories now coincided.

  “Who’s that?” asked Lorena casually, turning back around to the women.

  “Uh, it’s . . .” Essie stammered.

  “I don’t think you’d know her,” added Opal.

  “Does she live at Happy Haven?” asked Lorena, arms crossed, staring pointedly down her large round nose at the women.

  “Yes . . .” admitted Essie.

  “Then I know her,” said Lorena with a caustic grin.

  “Of course,” continued Essie, “but we really don’t want to mention her name because it’s–you know–a surprise!” Lorena glanced back and forth from the calculatingly charming faces of the two little old ladies sitting before her. It was clear from Lorena’s face that she realized that they were up to something--what she didn’t know--but it was probably more than just planning a surprise birthday party.

  “Do you want me to come back later to get your pj’s on, when you two is all done with your big party plans?” asked Lorena as she brought over the pill box and a glass of water. She handed Essie the glass and proceeded to drop pills into Essie’s free palm from each of the compartments of the pill box.

  “Oh, no!” cried Essie, between swallowing each of her bedtime pills. She finished the pills and handed the empty glass back to Lorena, who took it back to the kitchen and locked up the pill box and replaced it in the top cupboard.

  “You shouldn’t have to come back later, Lorena,” added Opal, sitting up stiffly on the sofa and glancing surreptitiously at Essie’s bedroom door. So far, there had been no baby sounds since the aide had entered Essie’s apartment.

  “I’ll just get my pj’s,” said Essie, “and you can help me get dressed right now!”

  Lorena started for the bedroom door where Essie was also headed.

  “I can get your jams, Miss Essie!” she said, “You stay here and chat with your friend!”

  “Oh, no, Lorena! I can do it!” exclaimed Essie, cutting the aide off with her walker and backing up into her bedroom and pulling the door closed behind her. Lorena stared at Essie’s retreating form with a scowl and then turned back to Opal, still seated on the sofa.

  “I don’t think I ever know Miss Essie to have guests,” she said pointedly to Opal.

  “Isn’t that funny,” agreed Opal, endeavoring to engage the aide in conversation and distract her attention from Essie’s bedroom door. “I hardly ever invite anyone to my apartment either. I guess it’s because our rooms are so small, you know, and, of course, we all do talk among ourselves so much at every meal that I guess we just don’t feel the need to chat any more outside of dinner times. You know how that is, I’m sure. And, of course, at night, we’re all so busy getting ready for bed, what with our pills and getting our nightwear on and all the other things, that entertaining is just terribly far from our minds, that . . .”

  Her ramblings were cut short when Essie suddenly returned from the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her and dangling a pair of blue nylon pajamas over the handlebars of her walker. She rolled quickly over to Lorena, handed her the clothes, and sat down in her lounge chair.

  “Should I go, Essie?” asked Opal.

  “Maybe your friend should . . . you are getting ready for bed, Essie,” suggested Lorena.

  “No! Of course not!” pronounced Essie firmly. “We’re all women! Just get on with it, Lorena! And hurry up! Opal, you stay! There’s no reason for you to leave!” Lorena, following orders, quickly helped Essie remove her shoes and socks, trousers, shirt, and underwear, and even more quickly slip into her pj’s. Opal sat turned away on the sofa politely, fidgeting, and glancing every so often at Essie’s bedroom door.

  “My goodness, Miss Essie,” remarked Lorena, as she dressed the older woman. “I’ve never seen you so anxious to get ready for bed in my entire time at Happy Haven!”

  “There!” exclaimed Essie when she was finally outfitted in her nighttime attire. “Thank you so much, Lorena! I’m all set now!”

  “You are indeed, Miss Essie,” agreed Lorena, rising from the floor. She stood towering over the two old ladies seated before her, hands on her ample hips. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, Miss Essie, I’d say that you were up to something . . .”

  “Up to something?” asked Essie, looking up into Lorena’s gleaming face. “What do you mean, Lorena?”

  “About this surprise party you’re planning?”

  “Yes?” repeated Opal.

  “You know,” suggested Lorena, glancing back and forth from Essie to Opal in an apparent attempt to see if either would reveal their intentions, “this plan you have for one of your friends? It wouldn’t happen to be Bob Weiderley, would it?”

  “What?!” exclaimed Essie. “Oh, I see what you
mean, Lorena! You think Opal and I are plotting this party for Bob . . . .”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you, Miss Essie,” interrupted Lorena, grabbing her clipboard from the sink counter and marking on it with a pencil from her front pocket. “I mean, everyone knows about what you did for Mr. Weiderley! You are somewhat of a celebrity around here!”

  “That’s ridiculous!” said Essie, with a modest huff. “I just did what anyone would do to help a friend . . . and Opal and I are just two friends who happen to be sitting here in my living room together planning a friendly little celebration for a friend.”

  “That’s it,” agreed Opal, nodding authoritatively. “Just a friendly little celebration!”

  “Then, you two ladies enjoy your planning,” said Lorena with a final shrug. She zipped over to Essie’s kitchen counter. “Essie, what’s this empty can of Vigor doing here? Are you drinking this stuff as a bedtime snack? I mean, if you want I can bring you something tastier than this junk.”

  “That’s mine!” said Opal, jumping into the conversation at about the same time that Essie said, “I just wanted to try it!”

  “Whichever one of you drank it,” said Lorena with a chuckle, “doesn’t matter. You ladies can drink whatever dreck you like; I just want you to know that I can bring you something better. How about some milkshakes?” She tossed the empty can in the wastebasket under Essie’s kitchen sink.

  “No! No!” argued Essie, “I really like . . . we really like Vigor! Pitiful Pete, Lorena! Don’t tell on us! We just like the ‘dreck’! Sorry!”

  “Nothing to be sorry about, Miss Essie, and I’m sure not gonna’ tell on you,” said Lorena, with a shrug. “Okay, you two, I’m out of here! Enjoy your visit!” The nurses’s aide closed up the cupboard and slipped out quietly through Essie’s door.

  Immediately upon Lorena’s departure, Essie rose, grabbed her walker, and wheeled it into her bedroom. Opal followed quickly on her heels. Inside Essie’s small bedroom, they found Fay and Marjorie sitting knees to knees–Fay still in her wheelchair and Marjorie on the edge of Essie’s bed. Baby Antonio was at present in Marjorie’s arm’s chugging away at the Vigor-filled rubber glove. The glove was now almost totally depleted of its contents.

  “She’s gone!” announced Essie to the two women. Opal stuck her head through the small bedroom doorway. There was barely enough room for two seated and one standing. Opal was forced to remain in the doorway.

  “That was a really close call, Essie,” scolded Opal from behind. “I think she suspects us!”

  “Of course she suspects us,” agreed Essie. “Didn’t you hear her? She thinks we’re planning some extravagant shindig for Bob, I guess. So . . . that’s just what we’ll let her think.”

  “This is all one big lie, Essie,” continued Opal, “I hate lying! I’m afraid this will come back to haunt us . . . or, should I say, haunt you!”

  “Shoots and boots!” responded Essie to the voice behind her, “I’m not afraid of Lorena. Right now, all I’m concerned about is this little fellow! How’s he doing Marjorie?”

  “He drank most all of the Vigor,” whispered Marjorie, continuing to rock the baby. Fay was totally focused on the little infant’s face.

  “I hope you’re not killing that child with that stuff,” added Opal, “You heard what Lorena said about it, Essie! She called it dreck!”

  “He seems just fine,” said Marjorie. “I think we did the right thing! I see you’re in your pj’s, Essie.”

  “Yes, and hopefully, that means that no one else will come knocking on my door!”

  “Until morning,” said Opal, deflating the group mood. “What are you going to do when your morning aide arrives, Essie?”

  “I guess I’ll figure that out tomorrow. Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara said? Tomorrow is another day!” replied Essie. “Maybe Santos will have found Maria by then.”

  “Oh my God!” said Marjorie with disgust.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Essie.

  “ Mother Nature!” said Marjorie, “Antonio just pooped his pants! Guess that Vigor went right through him.”

  “Eww!” added Opal from the doorway, holding her nose. “That smells disgusting!”

  As the new odor began to waft around the small room, Fay quickly turned her wheelchair around and headed into Essie’s small bathroom.

  “Now, where has she gone?” asked Marjorie.

  “To get away from the smell,” suggested Opal.

  “I hope she doesn’t expect to find diapers in there!” added Essie.

  “If you have them, Fay will find them!” said Opal, as Fay returned holding a pink cardboard box on her lap.

  “That’s not diapers, Fay!” cried Essie. Fay held up a box labeled Reliables. “Where’d you find that? That’s a box of those adult incontinence pads my daughter Claudia bought me ages ago, hoping I’d try them. I refuse to wear those stupid things. I’d rather make a mad dash to the restroom than to run around all day with wet pants.”

  Fay quickly opened the box and extracted one of the thick pads. Expertly tearing and reshaping the item, she reassembled it until it was designed to perfectly fit a little baby boy’s bottom (and front). As the other three women saw what Fay was doing, Essie zipped back to her desk in the living room and returned with scissors and sticky tape. Marjorie gently removed the disposable paper diaper presently on the baby and handed it to Opal who disposed of it in Essie’s kitchen waste basket. Then, Fay slipped the clean homemade diaper on baby Antonio who cooed quietly throughout the entire procedure. Marjorie then handed Antonio to Fay who rocked him gently in her arms.

  “You have enough of these Reliables in this box, Essie, to last Antonio for a few days,” noted Opal.

  “Hopefully, he won’t need them,” said Essie, “Hopefully, Santos will find Antonio’s mother soon and our babysitting days will be over.”

  “Hopefully,” agreed Opal.

  “Hopefully,” repeated Marjorie.

  Fay just smiled at little Antonio, the two of them seemingly lost in a spell.

  “What about that cut on his face?” asked Marjorie.

  “And the bruise on his leg?” added Opal.

  “I’ve got disinfectant for the cut,” suggested Essie as she whizzed back to her bathroom and returned with a tube of cream. Opal quickly swabbed a small amount on the baby’s facial cut.

  “Ladies!” said Essie. “This baby is our responsibility now.” The four women looked at the baby and then at each other. Their group smile quickly turned into a look of worry.

  Chapter Six

  “People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one.”

  –Leo J. Burke

  Hours later after her three friends had–somewhat reluctantly–left her room and their opportunity to cuddle and coo over baby Antonio, Essie now found herself alone with the infant. It was unlikely, she reasoned, that anyone else would come knocking on her door at this time of night. The hands on her golden perpetual clock that Pru’s oldest child Arthur had given her, pointed to exactly midnight. The last time Essie remembered seeing the hands of a clock register midnight had occurred the previous evening when she was making one of her many middle of the night bathroom runs.

  “I guess we’re a lot alike,” she whispered to baby Antonio, lying beside her on her bed. When she spoke, Antonio shook his tiny fists gleefully and gyrated his pudgy legs back and forth as if he were riding an imaginary bicycle. “Only you don’t have to make bathroom runs when you need to go!” He made a sweet gurgling noise and appeared to look right at Essie.

  “I know you don’t know me,” she said to him, “but you are a cheerful little guy!” She smiled over at him and tweaked his cheek. Antonio giggled and pedaled his feet faster. Essie looked him over from top to bottom. He appeared to be full-term and healthy--at least if size and weight were any indication. She guessed him to be about eight or nine pounds--a good chunk for a newborn. He sported a full head of black hair which looked beautiful against his lovely tan skin. His
cheeks were round and the right one had a dimple directly below the gash. Every time he smiled, it dipped in. Essie was enjoying trying to make him smile just so she could see the dimple.

  “Doesn’t look like you plan on doing any sleeping, little guy,” she said with a sigh. She looked around her small bedroom. It wouldn’t be safe to let the baby stay in bed with her. She’d heard horrible tales about some mothers doing just that and suffocating infants when they rolled over on them in their sleep. “Guess I’d better transfer you back to your walker basket before either one of us drifts off.”

  Essie scooted to the edge of her bed and dropped her feet down until she found her bedroom slippers. Then, standing carefully with the help of her walker which was beside the edge of the bed, she stood up. Turning back to the baby, she reached out for him and pulled him closer to her. As she slid him along the sheets, baby Antonio started fussing and by the time Essie had him on the bed’s edge, he’d started to howl.