Getting Old is a Disaster Read online

“Something that woman in Tampa said to me that I’m trying to remember.” I shrug; nothing’s coming to mind. “And yet, the body was washed up a month later. After being in the water so long, how could they have been sure it was Blake? I’m driving myself crazy.”

  Evvie says, “Unless Morrie’s lab can come up with something from the bones, we may never find out who was buried there.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Ida says as she points to Stanley walking toward them with Morrie in tow.

  “Look who I found on my doorstep,” Stanley says.

  “I just dropped by to see how your repairs are going.” Morrie gives the girls one of his delightful shy smiles. They eat it up. I can almost read their minds—they’ve got to find a girl for him.

  “Going slow,” says Sophie looking at Bella, both thinking of Dora. “Way too slow.”

  “I do have a report for you. From the forensics lab.”

  Ida says, “We were just talking about that.”

  The girls lean closer to Morrie to hear.

  “My guys were so intrigued about having such an old skeleton on their table, they got right to work. Unfortunately I don’t think it will help us find out who he is, but it tells us who he was not.” Evvie comments, “Sorry to hear that.”

  Morrie continues. “The bones tell us he was definitely male, approximately five foot seven inches tall. Probably between thirty and thirty-five years old.”

  “It doesn’t match my foreman’s description of a large, almost heavyset man.” Stanley doesn’t hide his disappointment.

  “It doesn’t match Johnny Blake’s height or age, either,” I say. So much for my water-logged theory.

  Morrie shrugs. “Sorry, they can’t get much closer than that.”

  Stanley says, “Then we have indeed come to a dead end.”

  Our group is about to disband, when Joe shows up. He doesn’t say a word. Evvie hurriedly gets up from the bench. “Gotta go. Need to pick up some groceries for dinner.”

  She moves quickly away. I look after her, wondering what is happening. Something is new with those two. It’s unlike Evvie not to confide in me.

  Stanley is about to head back to Phase Six, when Abe walks by carrying a shopping bag. Stanley looks surprised. “I thought you were coming to the family dinner tonight.”

  Abe smiles. “Would I miss a dinner at your home? Not to worry. I’m bringing along some noshes.” Abe indicates Morrie, who is about to get into his car. “Any news on the skeleton?”

  Stanley absently bends to pull a weed out of a crack in the driveway. “I think we’re never going to know.”

  Abe tries to comfort his friend. “Maybe it’s for the best. You have enough on your mind without this worry. Let the past keep its secrets.”

  “Gladdy.” I hear my name being called and I turn around.

  It’s Jack, home from his work down at the police station. He waves to his departing son and Morrie waves back.

  “Grand Central Station around here.” Jack kisses my cheek. Bella and Sophie grin at that, vicariously enjoying our happiness.

  I explain. “Pre-dinnertime gathering. Happens every evening around now. Just look up. Lots of noses peering out of windows to see the comings and goings.”

  “Sounds familiar. Like my Phase Six. Seemed like you were having a party.”

  “More like a wake.” I take his arm and we head for my place.

  I see Louise Bannister leaning over the railing of the third-floor walkway, watching us. I keep up a light banter so Jack won’t look up.

  At the mailboxes next to the elevator, I check my mail. What with leaving so early this morning, I’d forgotten. “Well, well,” I say, looking at the familiar white envelope.

  Jack looks at the envelope, too. “Not your Grandpa Bandit again?”

  I open it up, and there’s the green feather. “Guess so.” I glance at it and wait as I see Sophie and Ida nearing us, heading for their apartments. When they are close I wave the letter, then read it out loud. “ ‘Hello, ladies. Things are seldom as they seem. Skim milk masquerades as cream. I’m back in business. It’s going to be the Lauderdale S and L on Hallandale. Getting old means life is too short for us to save for a rainy day. The good news for me is that their alarm system works only half the time. And don’t expect lunch. There’s no deli around. Won’t tell you the time. Tuesday’s the date. Don’t want to make it too easy-peasy. Or, then again, maybe I won’t show up and this is a wild-goose chase.’ ”

  Ida growls. “This is the last straw. We’re gonna get him this time.”

  No moon shines in Enya’s apartment. The curtains are tightly drawn. Blackness everywhere except for the small candle that burns on the table at the opposite wall, above which hang the family pictures. Of all the dead children. The shrine will be lit as long as Enya lives.

  In her “bed of nails” Enya flings her tortured body from side to side. Over the decades she has managed to strangle most of her memories out of her conscious mind. If she hadn’t, she would never sleep. She would go mad. She has prayed for death many times, but her prayers were not answered. None of her prayers were ever answered.

  Now these memories from hell seep back into her dreams, forming beads of sweat on her face. She sees rivers of blood. A barking German shepherd, his gums slathered with spittle. A body, like something crucified, plastered across an electric fence, the zigzagging lights patterning a macabre dance as the man dies hideously. The coward. She spits with venom. How dare he take the easy way out, her husband?

  More twisting, clutching at her pillow, holding on for dear life. Dear life it is. Here he comes, Oberfiihrer, as she will learn to call him. And fear him with every fiber of her being. It’s him! She screams aloud while staring into the deadness of his eyes.

  There is a sharp ringing and a banging noise. She awakens, aware of her body pounding itself against the backboard of her bed, which hits the wall behind her over and over.

  Her phone is ringing. It’s Evvie. “I just walked by your door and heard some noise. Are you all right?”

  I’ll never be all right, Enya thinks. She sits up. “I’m sorry. Forgive me if I disturbed you.”

  “Do you want me to come over and stay with you?”

  What for, she thinks, leaning her exhausted head back against the now motionless headboard. Nothing will wash away this sorrow. “No, thank you, dear. Just a bad dream.”

  “You phone me if you need me. I’ll come and sit with you anytime you want. Promise?”

  “Yes, I will. Go back to sleep.” Sleep easy, you people in this country who take for granted the peaceful lives you lead. You have no idea.

  Enya stares at the shrine across the room. The light flickers back at her. No, my precious ones, I will never forget.

  Evvie puts down the phone in her kitchen. The call upsets her. Enya sounded so very sad. She takes off her jacket, then heads quietly into the living room, where Joe is asleep on the couch. Evvie walks over to him and looks down, watching him breathe. He seems so helpless lying there. She bends to fix his blanket.

  Her presence wakes him. “How was the lecture?” he asks sleepily. He squints at the clock on a side table. “It’s late.”

  “We went for coffee after.”

  Joe looks at her, not knowing what to say or do as she continues to stand there.

  “Joe. Comfort me. Please.”

  He hesitates for a moment, not sure she means it. He sees the tears in her eyes. Then he jumps up and puts his arms around his ex-wife. Together, they head for her bedroom.

  Where his kitchen wall backs the kitchen of his neighbor, Abe Waller sits at the small table, vaguely aware of the sounds coming from next door through the walls. He sips his scotch and stares grimly at his bible. Maybe he should move out. This crying of hers is not good. Too many memories, he thinks. I don’t need this.

  Grandpa Bandit Strikes Again

  We go over last-minute instructions as we wait for the bank to open. Standing in the parking lot behind the bank, we are a group r
eady for action. We are well organized this time. Since Grandpa knows who we are, we wear assorted disguises—hats, scarves, sunglasses, etc. Eight can play at his game—one of him and seven of us.

  We have our own extra crew of volunteers, since Jack and Joe have joined us. But they defer to me as team captain.

  “Everybody have their whistle at the ready?”

  The girls nod eagerly as they feel for the whistles round their necks. They are hyped for this day of possible excitement.

  “Cell phones?”

  They all pat at where said phones are located on their bodies.

  “Remember not to use them unless necessary. Joe, here, has volunteered to be rotating messenger. He’ll go around to each of you to find out if there is something you need.”

  Joe smiles happily at finally feeling like he belongs. He gets to spend a day with Evvie, which obviously thrills him. Evvie is still not giving any-thing away. I guess she’ll tell me what’s going on when she’s ready.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see my Jack looking amused and pleased at watching his woman in take-charge mode. Another check on the pro side of his balance sheet. He isn’t threatened when a woman is the boss. He winks at me. I bet he knows what I’m thinking.

  “Everybody know her assigned exit?” Each of the girls has an exit to guard.

  Bella raises her hand. “I don’t know where the northeast corner is.”

  “I’ll escort you,” says Joe willingly.

  I continue. “We know how Grandpa likes to trick us, so be on guard. And he might just wait for closing time, hoping to find us weary and careless.”

  Ida puffs her chest out. “He won’t get by us this time.”

  “Just keep in mind, he knows what we look like. But then again, he might be someone we know, so be alert.”

  Evvie looks sternly at Bella and Sophie, who are giggling. “He’ll look for the weakest link.”

  Bella sighs. “That could be me.”

  Sophie pats her on the arm. “I’ll watch your back, bubbala. If you faint or something, I won’t let you fall.” They grin at each other.

  Evvie and Ida roll their eyes at the two weakest links.

  “Don’t forget to take turns for lunch breaks.” Oh, yes, we have backpacks with food and drink—this army always marches on its stomach.

  “And remember, Jack and I will be constantly on the move, visiting each of your checkpoints. We plan to walk in and out of the bank as pretend customers. Later we’ll use the desks we were offered and playact as bank employees.”

  When we told Morrie, he believed it was another false alarm. But when I told him Grandpa bad been there the last time, he took it a little more seriously. He promised he’d warn the bank officers so they’d be prepared. But his tone told me he thought we’re wasting our time.

  The bank managers have thoughtfully provided chairs at all the doors so we “elderly folk” have a place to rest.

  It’s ten A.M., the bank is open, and we join the waiting group in front.

  The girls march in, heads high and spirits good. The bank is in pretty good shape despite the hurricane of ten days ago. A few taped-up windows are all I notice as I look around.

  “Look alive,” I instruct them. “Get to your battle stations.”

  Everyone is eager. Even the bank employees, all of whom know what’s going on, share in our anticipation. I don’t expect any action right away and we don’t get any. Eleven A.M. comes and goes. Joe walks over to where Jack and I are playing at being bank officer and customer.

  “Message from Sophie. She says her feet hurt.”

  I sigh. “Tell her to take off the stiletto heels and put her sneakers on.”

  Joe salutes and heads for Sophie at the north-west door.

  An hour later, Bella, taking a turn as a customer while Joe mans her post, walks in with a poodle. She stops to “chat” with me at my desk.

  “Where did you get a dog?” I look at the froufrou white standard poodle covered with purple bows.

  She giggles. “A lady outside loaned it to me when I said I wanted to impress someone.” She turns and waves to the dog’s real owner, standing at a desk where she is filling out a bank form.

  By two o’clock everyone’s beginning to sag. I shrug and say to Jack, “I can tell the girls are getting bored.”

  “Yes,” he agrees, “too many bathroom breaks. And lunch breaks. And lolling about on chairs.”

  “Dangerous time, and I bet that sly old codger is depending on it.”

  At two forty-four, all hell breaks loose when we hear what sounds like gunfire coming from near the bank-vault area. The place is in a sudden uproar. People yelling in fear, running out, pushing and shoving others out of their way. Total panic.

  Guards rush toward the noise, guns drawn, as all attention is on what’s happening. In moments, the guards have the culprit on the floor and cuffed. From where I stand I hear him shout, “Leave me alone. Don’t shoot!”

  I stay at my post, but not my girls. They run to see what’s going on. I suddenly have a funny feeling the real show is somewhere else. I scout all the tellers for unusual activity.

  Joe and Evvie show up, out of breath. Evvie announces, “It’s a teenager setting off firecrackers.”

  “No Grandpa, I bet,” I say.

  “Doesn’t look like it.” Evvie starts to catch on.

  The thin, wiry boy, wearing gang-style low-riding pants, is being dragged away yelling, “Don’t hurt me. Some old guy gave me ten bucks to do it as a gag!”

  The noise level is high, almost high enough to muffle the alarm going off. But not quite.

  Jack and I exchange glances, then he starts running toward the front door. He tells Joe to try a different door.

  A shout comes from the teller farthest from where I am. “Help. Stop him! He’s getting away!”

  We are flummoxed. People are running every which way. Get who? We didn’t see any of it. We have no idea where Grandpa went. Everywhere it’s total chaos.

  Sophie and Bella come running, all at sea.

  “I was so scared,” says Bella, shivering.

  “I thought we were going to be shot dead,” Sophie says, waving her arms agitatedly in front of her face.

  I scowl at them. “It was Grandpa, diverting our attention. And it worked. You all left your posts.” Evvie, Sophie, and Bella hang their heads in shame.

  “Did anybody see anything?” I ask, knowing the answer. A lot of shaking heads. They were all watching the action with the kid. As I was. I should have known.

  “What do we do now?” Evvie asks dejectedly.

  I say, “We can all run outside and look around, but don’t bother. He’s far away by now. That shrewd old geezer has beaten us again.”

  Jack and Joe come back in, shaking their heads. Jack says, “Too many exits, too many streets to follow.”

  Joe agrees. “Just a lot of people milling around to catch the action. Easy for him to lose himself in that crowd.”

  At that moment Morrie walks over to Jack. “I just got here. Fill me in.”

  Jack walks off with his son. “See you back home,” he says.

  We stand there not knowing quite what to do. I count heads. Someone is missing. “Where’s Ida?”

  At the sound of the firecrackers, Ida looks in the direction of the noise, as does everyone else. But she stands her ground. Peripherally, she realizes that someone has just run out her exit door—a man wearing a windbreaker and a blue baseball cap. Everyone is running toward the sounds. This guy is running from. Quickly she races outside in pursuit. She has a vague memory of something else as the person runs by, but she doesn’t know what.

  Her exit door leads to a quiet side street. She looks both ways. The only person she sights is the back of a woman, carrying a Macy’s tote bag, strolling away from her. The woman has long gray hair with ribbons. She is about to put on a big floppy yellow hat. A woman who looks vaguely familiar. On impulse Ida hurries after her.

  Ida smiles as she catches up
. “Well, fancy seeing you here. Madame Margaret Ramona, I presume?”

  Madame Ramona turns an icy stare at her. “Do I know you?” She keeps walking.

  “Of course you do. I was the one who paid you a dollar for your phony tarot reading.”

  “Which was very rude of you, cheapskate.”

  Ida keeps up with her. She glances toward the tote. “Been shopping?”

  “Yes, and it’s none of your business.”

  “Been banking as well?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you just missed a bank robbery.”

  “Really. How thrilling. I’ll read about it in the papers tomorrow.” Madame Ramona turns a corner, takes her keys from her pocket, and moves quickly to where her Honda Civic is parked.

  Ida makes a grab for the woman’s tote bag. “Love to see what you bought.”

  Ida is fast, but Madame Ramona is faster. Ida manages to pull one thing out—a Florida Marlins navy blue baseball cap—just as Madame Ramona shoves her forcibly toward the wall. She climbs quickly into her Civic. Ida struggles to regain her balance.

  As the car whooshes past her, Ida shouts, “Now I know what I saw when you ran past me—I’d know that pimple anywhere!”

  With that she runs back toward the bank, blowing her whistle!

  Gotcha!

  We meet up with Ida, still blowing that whistle, standing next to where our cars are parked in the rear of the bank. We surround her, the girls all talking at once.

  “What?” asks Bella. “Where’s the fire?”

  “What are you doing out here? All the excitement was in there,” says Sophie.

  “Did you hear the firecrackers?” asks Joe.

  “I caught Grandpa Bandit,” she announces proudly, twirling a blue baseball cap with her finger.

  We all look around. Nothing to see but parked cars and hurricane-damaged backs of buildings. Ida grins from ear to ear.

  “What! You kidding us?” This from Sophie.

  Ida raises her hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  “So where is he?” Evvie demands.