Bingoed (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

“Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young.”

—Sir Arthur Pinero

When she returned from the doctor’s office, it was still relatively early in the morning. Essie checked back in, said goodbye to her daughter, and dropped off her coat. Then after a quickie (meaning a quick potty break), she headed out into the family room. None of her three compatriots were in sight, so she continued rolling towards the back of the room and down the narrow hallway leading towards the chapel.

As she slid inside the small room and her eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness, she observed a figure in one of the front pews. From the colorful scarf on her head, she knew it was Evelyn Cudahy. Evelyn’s head was bowed and Essie did not wish to disturb her. She pulled her walker over to the side of a back pew and sat down and waited. After a few moments, Evelyn looked up and rose. Turning and starting to walk down the chapel’s center aisle, she saw Essie sitting quietly in the back.

“Essie,” said Evelyn, walking slowly over and sitting in the pew in front of Essie. “We meet again.”

“Hello, Evelyn,” said Essie. “Are you feeling better than last night?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m doing remarkably well today,” she said joyously. “I believe that last night I was just overcome with exhaustion and concern.”

“For Bob?”

“Yes,” she answered, “of course, for Bob.”

“And today you’re greatly improved.”

“Yes,” she replied, then added quietly, “I spoke with him just a little while ago on the phone. Oh, Essie, he’s well enough to call me.”

“How wonderful!”

“You just don’t know!” said Evelyn. “I didn’t know that I’d ever talk to him again.” Tears welled in her eyes and she pulled a rolled up tissue from her pocket and wiped them.

“You are certainly a very good friend to Bob, Evelyn.”

“Essie,” said Evelyn. “Essie, I’m looking at you and I believe you are very smart, very intuitive.” Essie remained quiet, listening. “I think you know, don’t you?”

“About you and Bob? I think you and Bob are more than just friends, Evelyn,” responded Essie.

Evelyn’s tears welled again and her nose began to run. Her tissue was soon working overtime.

“We are,” she replied. “Essie, it’s only a secret because we were waiting for the right moment. And then Bob collapsed at Bingo and—oh—it’s just been a nightmare. What was supposed to be wonderful turned into this nightmare.”

“A secret?” asked Essie.

“Bob and I are married,” she whispered.

“Married?” responded Essie, shocked. So Bev was right.

“Just a few days before the Bingo episode, we went to city hall and eloped.”

“Oh, my!” said Essie. “I had no idea.”

“No,” said Evelyn. “Not many people do—just Hazel and Rose. They helped us with the wedding. They’ve been wonderful. Hazel’s with me almost all the time to assist me with my chemo. Rose has been visiting Bob in the hospital because I’m not allowed to.”

“But if you’re his wife, surely they’d let you in,” argued Essie.

“It’s not that,” explained Evelyn. “I’m not allowed in for my sake, because of the chemo. They won’t let me in that part of the hospital.”

“But you got to speak to him today—that’s wonderful!”

“Yes,” agreed Evelyn. “I feel so confident now that he’ll recuperate and be back here soon.”

“Did he say anything about what upset him so before Bingo? You know, you said he had something important he wanted to tell you.”

“He didn’t tell me on the phone, but he did say to be careful.”

“Do you think whatever he’s worried about is what was worrying him the afternoon before Bingo? You know, the thing he wanted to tell you about but didn’t get a chance.”

“I don’t know why he said to be careful, Essie. I don’t know what he wanted to tell me after Bingo.”

“Do you think maybe he discovered something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” replied Essie, not wanting to reveal her hand, “maybe something about a staff member or maybe somebody from outside had contacted him. You never know.”

“I guess he’s just worried about me and my chemo, but my oncologist says that I’m doing well.”

“That’s wonderful, Evelyn,” said Essie, touching her arm which rested now on the top of the pew in front of Essie. “Did Bob say any more about what the doctors think caused him to collapse?”

“He did say something strange. He said they found some unusual substance in his bloodstream. They don’t know what it is. He said they didn’t know if it was the cause of his coma, but evidently they’re still investigating. Whatever it is—or was—it appears to have drained from his system. It’s actually probably lucky that he collapsed and was hospitalized when he was because they were able to give him a transfusion and that was no doubt helpful in getting rid of this substance.”

“No doubt,” agreed Essie, contemplating the information Evelyn had just imparted to her.

“When he returns, then you’ll announce that you’re married?”

“We plan to, yes.”

“We’ll have to throw a big party for you!”

“That would be lovely, but please keep it very low key,” she begged. “We both just need some peace and quiet.”

“Then, that’s what you will get!” she said, patting Evelyn’s hand. With that, Essie bid farewell to the new bride and headed out of the chapel and back to her room. She had a lot to contemplate before lunch.

Chapter Twenty-four

“Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle.”

—Bob Hope

Lunch was uneventful. Essie, Opal, Marjorie, and Fay dined on chef salads and homemade rolls. They waved at Evelyn, Rose, and Hazel when the three women from Bob Weiderley’s table arrived shortly after they did. Essie was itching to tell her tablemates about Bob and Evelyn’s secret wedding but true to her word, she kept quiet.

“Where were you all morning?” asked Marjorie. “I looked for you at trivia.”

“Pru took me to my gerontologist,” Essie responded, not adding that she also spent time extracting information from Evelyn Cudahy. “I’m healthy as a horse.”

“I’ve known some pretty sickly horses in my day,” claimed Opal who had grown up on a farm.

“My old person doc says I’m a healthy old person! There! Is that better?”

“What about your memory?” queried Opal. “You always forget what you ate the very next day.”

“So?” scowled Essie. “Who cares if I remember what I eat? It’s not important.”

“Oh, it could be important, Essie,” explained Marjorie in her sweet elementary school teacher guise. “Just imagine if you weren’t supposed to eat something you were allergic to and you forgot if you ate it or not!”

“What!” Essie sputtered. “You two are ridiculous. Fay, you have the right idea. Just sleep through lunch!”

Fay opened an eye when she heard her name. When she saw that her friends were embroiled in a row, she quickly went back to sleep.

“I found out something!” announced Opal, when the hubbub had quieted. “Violet recently got a raise. A big one.”

“How’d you find that out?” asked Essie.

“My morning aide, Jerold, heard it from another aide who heard it from another aide.”

“That’s hearsay,” said Marjorie. “It might not be true.”

“It probably is,” said Essie. “And for what does she get a raise? It’s not as if she does anything.”

“Essie! Why are you all of a sudden so opposed to Violet?”

“Because,” noted Essie, “I finished reading all those minutes from that Board of Directors’ meeting back before she was hired. The minutes that Fay printed for us from the computer. Turns out . . .—“ She leaned in and Marjorie and Opal leaned in to hear.

“Turns out she was selected from three candidates.”

“So?” asked Marjorie. “She must have been the best of the three.”

“The best of the three as far as having a good family name and highly placed social standing,” said Essie.

“What?” shrieked Opal.

“You heard me. I read those minutes and it was quite obvious that those Board members had only gone through the motions of interviewing those candidates. Violet evidently came from the more prominent family and that appeared to be the deciding factor.”

“Not her credentials?” asked Opal.

“Oh, her credentials were as good as the other two candidates, at least that’s what the minutes claim, but wouldn’t you think if you had three equally qualified candidates, you’d want to interview them more so that you could select the best one—versus just picking the one with the best social standing?” Essie was adamant in her disgust.

“They must have made a reasonably good decision,” noted Marjorie. “Violet’s been here over twelve years without any problems.”

“Until now,” said Essie.

“You mean . . .—” suggested Opal.

“This episode with Bob is not over. Mark my words,” argued Essie.

“But Essie,” pleaded Marjorie, “he’s out of the coma. He’ll probably be released. How is Violet responsible? She called the ambulance. It seems to me she played everything by the book.”

“Hmmm,” pondered Essie. “We’ll see.”

“What else could there be?” asked Opal.

“Poison,” whispered Essie.

“What?” whispered Marjorie. “I thought we discussed this before and you gave up on that ridiculous idea!”

“It’s not ridiculous,” answered Essie. “I just spoke to Evelyn this morning. She talked to Bob on the phone a bit ago and he told her that the doctors found a suspicious substance in his bloodstream. They don’t know what it is—or was—because it’s apparently drained from his system now.”

“Do they think this substance is what caused him to collapse?” asked Opal.

“They don’t know,” said Essie, “but they’re investigating. Now what does that suggest to you?”

“I don’t know,” answered Marjorie, “but it seems to me they’re going to need a lot more information before they can pin it on Violet—if that’s where you’re going. I mean as far as I can tell, Violet hasn’t had any personal contact with Bob recently until after he had collapsed.”

“I know,” said Essie. “I haven’t figured out all the angles yet, but I’m working on them.”

“Good luck with that, Detective Cobb,” said Opal, shaking her head.

And indeed, Detective Essie Cobb was working on the angles.

“Fay,” she called out to the little woman snoring quietly in her wheelchair. Fay nodded her head and squinted her eyes open. “Fay, can you get on that computer this afternoon and look up information on poisons? Particularly poisons that might cause a coma. Find out how it might be administered. Find out about where someone could get it—how dangerous it is. You know, Fay. I know you know, Fay. I know you know what we need. So go get it, girl!”

Fay smiled at Essie, yawned, and then fell back to sleep.

“She doesn’t understand,” noted Marjorie.

“Yes, she does,” said Essie. “She just has her own way of responding.”

The women had finished their salads and all were feeling rather cheerful as the dining hall was beaming with light from a lovely April day, and an entire band of songbirds were chirping outside the dining hall window. They all elected to indulge in the proffered apricot mousse cake. Santos delivered the scrumptious desserts with a wink to the members of what Essie knew was his favorite table. The women made short work of the four little slices of condensed calories.

Chapter Twenty-five

“To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.”

—Oscar Wilde

The four friends were passing through the main lobby after their pleasant, leisurely lunch. Opal, Marjorie, and Essie were just saying good-bye to Fay who wheeled herself off to the computer in the family room. How nice it is, thought Essie, to have a researcher. Fay certainly knows how to mine that Internet business.

At that moment, Sue Barber, wearing a light jacket and carrying a purse over her shoulder, came barreling through the lobby from the main entrance.

“Oh, there you are!” she called out to Essie and her friends. “We were almost ready to leave without you.”

“What?” said Essie. Opal and Marjorie looked at each other curiously.

“Don’t you ladies remember?” Sue asked, shaking her finger at the three women. She zipped over to the front counter and grabbed a clipboard. “Remember, you girls signed up for the field trip to the Reardon botanical gardens today!” She waved the sign-up sheet with their signatures under their noses.

“Oh, Sue,” said Marjorie sheepishly. “I’m not really dressed for a field trip.”

“Me either,” claimed Opal.

“Nonsense,” responded Sue. “You both are dressed just fine. The weather is perfect. Come along now. You’ve made us delay long enough. Let’s go. The driver is waiting.”

“You mean right now? This instant?” cried Essie. “The bus is here?”

“Right out there,” she said, motioning to the front door. “Can’t you see it?” She waved her arms at the big yellow school bus sitting under the overhang on the front drive.

“I’m not at all ready,” continued Essie. “I’d have to go clean up and use the bathroom.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Sue firmly. “You can do that when you get to the gardens. They’re just a short drive away. Now hurry! The whole group has been sitting on the bus waiting for the three of you!”

Essie looked at Opal and then at Marjorie as if to say “do you have any other excuses?”

“But, I . . . — I . . . —” stammered Essie.

“Let’s go!” Sue ordered. With that, she herded the women and their walkers out the main entrance as if they were a head of cattle. The bus driver quickly hopped down from his seat and helped Sue load the walkers into the luggage bins on the side of the bus. Then the driver and Sue urged the women up the two steps and into the bus. This was a much greater task than loading the walkers. Essie moaned with each step, threatening to faint from exertion. Opal and Marjorie complained almost as much. When all three women were finally on the bus and seated at the very back (the only seats left), all the residents gave a loud round of applause. Then the driver started up the spunky little vehicle, released the emergency brake with a start that sent Marjorie flying down the center aisle, and with a jerk, the field trip to the botanical gardens was on its way.

“Thanks a lot, Essie,” grumbled Opal to her pal on her left. “How did you ever get us into this? A bus trip is the last thing I wanted to do today.”

“You?” sneered Essie. “I have to pee so badly I’ll probably send a stream of urine all the way to the front of this stupid bus in the next second.”

“At least the two of you are able to stay seated!” cursed Marjorie. “Every time the damn thing stops, I fall on the floor!”

“Where did that annoying Sue Barber go anyway?” asked Essie. “I don’t see her.”

“She’s sitting up near the driver,” said Marjorie.

“She’s probably got a crush on him,” observed Opal. “That’s probably why she schedules so many field trips.”

“Are we there yet? I really have to pee,” squeaked Essie, crossing her thin legs and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Complain! Complain! Is that all you two can do?” said Marjorie. “The other residents seem to be enjoying themselves.”

“They have better bladder control,” countered Essie, grimacing.

“Hang on, Essie,” said Opal encouragingly. “Oh, look! We’re pulling into the gardens!”

And sure enough, the driver made a sharp left turn (causing Marjorie to slide precipitously into Opal) into the Reardon Botanical Gardens. The entrance was a spectacle of begonias, petunias, and roses winding upward around the twenty-foot spikes of a tall, wrought iron fence. As the bus came to a sudden and bladder-squeezing stop, Sue Barber stood where she had been seated at the front of the bus.

“Now, residents,” she announced, “enjoy your visit to the Reardon Botanical Gardens. It’s now 1:30 p.m. Please be back on the bus by 3 o’clock which is when we will depart for Happy Haven.” She bounded off the bus and assisted the driver in unlocking the luggage compartment. They removed walkers and then began helping the residents down the short flight of steps.

“We would be at the very back,” said Essie as the three women waited at the end of the line to exit the bus. She looked out the bus window and saw that Sue and the driver were totally occupied with helping each resident depart.

“Is that where Sue was sitting?” Essie asked Opal, as she pointed to the front seat opposite the driver.

“I believe so,” answered Opal. “Why do you care?”

“I’m just curious about something,” replied Essie, scooting onto the seat she had just mentioned. Sue Barber had left her purse on her seat—obviously so it wouldn’t get in her way while she helped the residents debus. Essie picked up Sue’s carryall satchel and unobtrusively lifted the top flap. Peeking in the interior, she stuck in her hand and shuffled the items around, trying to see what lay inside.

“Essie!” cried Marjorie, “What are you doing?”

“That’s not your purse!” said Opal.

“Quiet!” whispered Essie. “I’m just checking to see if she has any tissue.”

“I have tissue, Essie,” said Marjorie. “In my walker. You can have some when we get down.”

“Never mind,” said Essie. “My goodness, look at this.” She carefully brought out a small plastic bag containing what appeared to be a folded up dollar bill.

“What’s that?” asked Marjorie.

“What does it look like?” retorted Essie.

“Like something that doesn’t belong to you, Essie,” snorted Opal, as she grabbed the little bag and shoved it back into the purse. “For heaven’s sake, what are you doing?”

“Just investigating,” said Essie. “Oh, look, everybody is all almost out of the bus. Let’s go.”

As Essie hit the ground, she said, “Where’s the restroom?”

The driver, who’d obviously brought seniors to the botanical gardens before, pointed out a big, square, grey building at the top of a small incline a few yards off to the left—just inside the entrance to the gardens.

“Great!” she replied. “Don’t anyone get in my way!” With that, she pushed her walker at breakneck speed as fast as her little feet and her well-tied sneakers would carry her. Opal and Marjorie smiled politely at the driver and especially politely at Sue Barber whose purse Essie had just burgled. Then they too started for the public restroom building.

“She’s a character,” said the bus driver to Sue Barber.

“That’s putting it mildly,” agreed Sue.