Papoosed: An Essie Cobb Senior Sleuth Mystery

by Patricia Rockwell

  Essie sat in her chair, flabbergasted. Of course, she was grateful that Happy Haven was taking precautions to prevent the spread of disease. Of course, she did not want to catch any stomach virus that might be making the rounds of her fellow residents. She had already seen several of them succumb to it–thankfully–from a distance. But, what was she going to do about Antonio? A quarantine meant that her friends would not be allowed to come to her room. Opal and Marjorie and Fay would all have to remain in their own apartments.

  The telephone rang . . . loudly. Essie answered it, annoyed that anyone would break into her attempts to figure out this most recent dilemma.

  “Essie,” exclaimed Opal into the receiver, “did you hear the announcement?”

  “No, Opal!” replied Essie, “I happen to be the only person at Happy Haven who didn’t hear that we are all under a quarantine!”

  “What about Antonio?” demanded Opal.

  “What about him?” retorted Essie. “I’ll have to watch him myself!”

  “What about your children?” continued Opal.

  “I’m trying to figure that out,” replied Essie. “But I can’t do that when I’m talking to you!” She hung up. If Opal was offended, she was sorry, but right now she had to figure out what to do when her three children arrived to take her out for dinner. Maybe they wouldn’t let her go! That’s a thought! she reasoned. She called the front desk.

  “Phyllis,” she began.

  “Yes?” replied Phyllis, sounding harried.

  “Phyllis, this is Essie Cobb,” said Essie, “in B114.”

  “Yes, dear,” answered Phyllis, “are you sick?”

  “Oh, no!” replied Essie, “I feel just fine. I was wondering if I’m allowed to go out to dinner tonight. My children want to take me out. Of course, if you say I can’t go, I don’t mind telling them . . . .”

  “Oh, no, Essie!” said Phyllis. “The quarantine only applies to interacting with other residents! We have no problem with you going out with your children . . . as long as you’re well!”

  “Hmm,” answered Essie, “what are the symptoms of this virus”

  “It comes on very suddenly,” said Phyllis, “vomiting, fever, chills, diarrhea . . .”

  “Sounds terrible,” replied Essie, feeling ill just hearing Phyllis describe it. “I guess I don’t have it.”

  “That’s good, Essie,” said Phyllis. “You just stay in your room! But if you want to go out to dinner with your family! That’s fine But I’d be sure to let them know about the quarantine.”

  Essie mumbled her thanks to Phyllis who quickly hung up. It was obvious that Phyllis was going to be very busy at the front desk answering questions from residents who were now stuck in their rooms. She had almost hoped that Happy Haven would extend the quarantine to residents leaving the building but no such luck. Here she was now, alone in her apartment with a newborn baby. Her three children would be here in just hours to take her out to dinner. She obviously couldn’t go with them and leave the baby all alone. She couldn’t have any of her three friends come down and stay here or take the baby with them. The staff would be watching the hallways and the lobby to make certain that residents remained in their rooms. What could she do? If she told her children the truth, they would insist she give Antonio to the authorities. She couldn’t leave Antonio alone while she went out with her family. If he cried while she was gone, she’d be found out And, of course, she’d never leave him alone.

  Oh, well, she mused, at least I have a few hours to try to figure out what to do. Maybe Maria would pop up at her door and take her baby back! Like, duh, as her grandson Nathan often said. The phone rang again.

  “Essie,” cried Marjorie, “you’re there!”

  “And where else would I be, Marjorie?” asked Essie, annoyed that her friend had the gall to think she’d be running around the halls while a quarantine was in effect.

  “Is Antonio okay?”

  “Yes,” replied Essie. “He’s still asleep, despite the fact that my phone has been ringing off the hook and the public address system has been droning on and on . . .”

  “What are we going to do, Essie?” asked Marjorie.

  “What do you mean ‘we,’ Marjorie?” demanded Essie. “The three of you are out of this! Antonio is in my bedroom! He’s my problem now . . . as long as this quarantine is in place!”

  “But your children?” cried Marjorie into the phone, obviously flustered.

  “I’m sorry, Marjorie,” said Essie, calmly. “That was unfair of me. It’s not your fault . . . or Opal’s or Fay’s . . . that some ghastly virus is probably right now spreading all over our home. I’m just at my wits’ end as to what to do. I’ve tried to convince my children not to come, but no luck.”

  “I’m sorry, Essie,” said Marjorie. “I guess we’re going to have to tell Violet.”

  Essie envisioned Violet with a baby . . . with sweet little Antonio. The stern, unfeeling director of Happy Haven, glaring down at a small infant through her long, carefully curled eyelashes was an image Essie couldn’t bring herself to accept. There had to be a better way. There had to be a way to find Antonio’s mother. If Maria was dead, her body had not been found . . . that was the only thing to which Essie now clung.

  “No,” said Essie to Marjorie. “I’m not giving up.” She continued to clutch the telephone receiver making an unseen connection with her friend through the telephone line. “Marjorie,” she said finally, “what about Fay?”

  “Fay?” repeated Marjorie, “What about her?”

  “She can’t or won’t speak, you know,” noted Essie. “What if she gets sick in her room? How will she contact the front desk?”

  “I don’t know,” responded Marjorie in a sad little voice. “I never thought about that.”

  “I wonder if the staff ever thought about it either,” said Essie. “I’m sure Fay is not the only resident who can’t contact the front desk.”

  “I tell you what, Essie,” said Marjorie, “I’m going to call the front desk myself and suggest a staff member go check on Fay.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Marjorie,” said Essie. “In the mean time, I’m going to try to find Antonio’s mother. Maybe I can locate her before my children show up.”

  The phones clicked at almost the same time. Essie thought how much in tune she was with her friends and how much she’d miss their help in taking care of Antonio.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “For soothing out our infant worries with a softly spoken song.”

  –Bill Ronan

  Essie sat and pondered the information she had about Maria Valdez Compton and her husband Gerald. She realized that her most urgent problem was to find a way to deal with baby Antonio when her children came to take her out. She lifted her telephone receiver and dialed Claudia’s number.

  “Yes?” answered her youngest daughter, breathlessly. Claudia always sounded as if she was in the middle of another activity.

  “Claudia,” began Essie, “I have some bad news.”

  “Oh no!” replied her daughter, now concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Happy Haven is under quarantine,” replied Essie with solemnity. She hoped this news might convince her children to forego their efforts to take her out to dinner.

  “What?” cried Claudia. “Why?”

  “They think it’s a stomach virus going around,” replied Essie.

  “Are you sick, Mom?” asked Claudia.

  “No! No, dear!” said Essie, now upset that she had worried her daughter unnecessarily. “I’m fine, really I am. It just seems to have hit really hard and many residents have become quite sick, quite suddenly.”

  “So they’re quarantining the place?” asked Claudia. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means we all have to stay in our rooms. We can’t go to the family room or lobby or anywhere else in the building.”

  “What about the dining hall?” asked Claudia.

  “Definitely not there,” replied Essie, “I saw a
lady get sick there myself. Terrible.”

  “How do they expect everyone to eat?” asked Claudia, ever practical.

  “Oh, they’ll bring us our meals,” said Essie. “But they’ve cancelled the caroling program for this afternoon.”

  “Oh, no!” said Claudia. “But, of course. They wouldn’t want to expose all those young children to the virus.” Essie felt immediately guilty when Claudia started talking about children becoming ill. All she could think about was the little baby asleep on her bed who was now smack dab in the middle of a major germ zone.

  “So no one is allowed to leave?” asked Claudia.

  “We can leave the building,” replied Essie, “but you and Kurt and Prudence might not really want to come over here. I mean, there’s this bug going around. You three surely don’t want to expose yourselves to it.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mom,” exclaimed Claudia, “we’re tough! Kurt wants to see you! He drove all the way down to Reardon. And besides, you’ll probably appreciate getting out. You must be bored to tears just sitting there in your apartment all day long with nothing to do!” Essie cringed when her daughter said this last sentence. Bored was the last thing she was.

  “Oh, no, Claudia,” she said, “I’m just fine. It’s actually quite pleasant to be able to relax and just sit here . . .”

  “Don’t be silly,” interjected Claudia, “we’re not going to let you just stay there all alone and eat supper in your room! We’re coming to get you and take you out to a nice restaurant! How about that little Italian one we went to the last time Kurt was in town? You said you loved their ravioli!”

  “Yes, it was very nice,” responded Essie.

  “Then, it’s settled,” replied Claudia. “Since there’s not going to be any concert, we’ll come around five to get you. How about that? I know you like to eat early.”

  “Yes, dear,” said Essie. “Early. Five.” They said their good-byes and hung up. Essie tapped her fingers on the arms of her lounger. She looked at her watch. It was a little after two in the afternoon. It was not going to be possible to change Claudia’s mind. Her children would be there at five to take her to dinner. Somehow, she’d have to figure out what to do about Antonio between now and then.

  A sharp knock sounded at her door. She pushed down her footrest on her lounge chair and rose. Rolling her walker to the door, she called out, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Barbara, the staff nurse, Miss Essie,” said a muffled voice. Essie cracked the door.

  “Yes?” she replied to the woman standing at her door wearing a face mask.

  “Miss Essie,” began the nurse, “we’re going around to all the residents to check vitals and symptoms. We just want to be very cautious because of this virus.” The nurse’s eyes twinkled merrily behind the green paper mask.

  “Oh, yes,” said Essie, “but I’m fine. I don’t have any symptoms.” She worried that the baby would awaken from his nap at any moment and cry out. If this nurse heard him, she would be more than curious.

  “May I come in, please? It will just take a minute,” said the nurse, now actually starting to push her way into Essie’s apartment.

  “I . . . guess so,” replied Essie, backing up with her walker into her living room. The nurse closed the door behind her and motioned for Essie to sit. Then, she quickly removed a thermometer from a kit hanging from her shoulder and shoved it into Essie’s mouth.

  “Ixmlbhhmm,” mumbled Essie, holding the thermometer tightly in her lips. The nurse expertly wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Essie’s arm and pumped it up. Then she slowly allowed the air to release. She wrapped the cuff and the long tube extending from it up and put it back in her shoulder bag.

  “Good, 123 over 74,” said the nurse. She grabbed the thermometer from Essie’s mouth and read it. “98.6. Excellent. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” replied Essie, starting to stand up and aim the nurse back to her front door. “If I feel sick, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good,” said Barbara. “You’re eating okay? You’re not feeling nauseous?”

  “No,” replied Essie, “I’m just fine! My appetite is just fine too!” She smiled warmly at the nurse and gently placed a hand on the woman’s back as she edged her to the door.

  “Wonderful!” Nurse Barbara said, turning back to her. “Let’s just hope you stay that way!” She tucked the lid of her medical kit closed and headed out of Essie’s apartment.

  “Yes, let’s!” responded Essie, closing the door abruptly in the nurse’s face. She hoped that the nurse did not feel offended because Essie did appreciate the concern that Happy Haven was showing the residents in light of this recent outbreak. However, the last thing Essie needed was for anyone else to become aware of baby Antonio in her apartment.

  As soon as Essie had closed the door, she rolled her walker back inside and took a quick peek into her bedroom. Antonio was starting to stir. She could see his chubby legs sticking up in the air. Soon he would want something to drink. Although she wanted to do more investigating into the whereabouts of his mother, Essie realized that her first duty now was to take care of Antonio. She rolled to her kitchen and opened her refrigerator door and pulled out one of the cans of protein drink that Opal had left her. Quickly she prepared the empty but clean glove bottle that Opal had left in the refrigerator. She let it run under the hot water then filled it with the formula. Then she re-closed the top with the rubber band and ran the entire contraption under the hot water until the tiny stream from the needle hole in the little finger of the glove ran at room temperature. Then, she set the device on her walker seat and headed into her bedroom where baby Antonio was now awake. She made herself comfortable on her bed beside the infant and lifted him into her arms. The baby quickly began gyrating, his signal–she assumed–that he was hungry. Essie grabbed the glove bottle and slid the finger nipple into Antonio’s small mouth. Instantly, the infant calmed and began sucking contentedly.

  Essie leaned back on the headboard of her bed and stared down at the baby’s sweet face. The gash on his cheek did not seem as red and ugly as it had last night. As he drank his meal, Essie softly sang to him a song that she remembered singing to her own children many years ago:

  I see the moon

  The moon sees me

  God bless the moon

  and God bless me

  I see the stars

  The stars see me

  God bless the stars

  and God bless me

  I see the world.

  The world sees me.

  God bless the world,

  And God bless me.

  I know an angel

  Watches over me.

  God bless the angels,

  And God bless me.”

  Maybe, Essie hoped, some of these blessings would actually come true for baby Antonio.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Babies are such a nice way to start people.”

  –Don Herrold

  After Antonio downed the contents of his makeshift bottle and then promptly filled his tiny pink makeshift diapers, Essie quickly changed him and rocked him gently in her arms until he fell asleep. She placed the tiny infant on the center of her bed and rolled herself back out into her living room. She was exhausted. Glancing at her wristwatch, she realized that it was only two-thirty. Opening her telephone directory, she looked up the home number for Harold Compton, father of the late Gerald Compton. Perhaps he would be at home grieving for his son and she would be able to ask him a few questions. A man’s voice responded after three or four rings.

  “Yeah?” said the gruff voice.

  “Mr. Compton?” asked Essie.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Who’s this?”

  “Uh . . . you don’t know me, but I heard about your son and I just wanted to offer my sympathy . . .” she answered cautiously.

  “Yeah?” he yelled back, “what good is that?”

  “I know, sir, that it’s small compensation for the loss of a child . . . ”
she stammered.

  “It was his own damn fault!” countered Harold Compton. “The kid was a stupid jerk! Always goin’ off half cocked! A real hot head. He was an accident waiting to happen, lady! So don’t waste your sympathy on him!”