Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (15 page)

“I’m Nadine Montrose,” the woman said, reaching out and
shaking hands with Essie. 

“Essie Cobb,” replied Essie. 

“Didn’t you get a card from a secret admirer last year,
Betsy?” asked Nadine.

“Umm,” said Betsy, obviously not anxious to become involved
in the discussion.  “Yes, I did, but it was stolen soon after I got it.”

“Oh, no!” cried Nadine.  “How terrible!  Essie, you’d better
hang on to yours in case someone is out there swiping Valentine ’s Day cards!” 
She giggled at her cleverness, and Essie smiled at her sweetly.  She didn’t
realize how true her warning was.  “Can we see it, Essie?  Your card, I mean.”

“Oh, I really don’t…” Essie mumbled.  She was flustered as
she tried to contemplate a reasonable excuse for not showing the card.

“Now, Nadine,” said Betsy, leaping into the conversation all
of a sudden.  “This is a personal matter.  Essie received this card from a
man.  It probably has a very private message on it.  She probably doesn’t want
to share this very private moment with everyone here at Happy Haven.”  Betsy
emphasized “private” and “personal” as she chastised Nadine for asking to view
the card. 

Essie mentally thanked Betsy for her help in deflecting
attention from the now non-existent valentine.

“Hey, Essie,” said Dave, “If you don’t really want to show
us your super private valentine, from that super secret admirer of yours, maybe
it’s because he’s not real.”

“What?” asked Essie.  Had Dave Esperti figured out her
ploy?  She didn’t think she was doing that badly in covering her attempts to
convey information about the card and the fact that she still had it.

“I said maybe your secret admirer isn’t real,” he repeated
pointedly.

“He’s real, Dave,” said Essie.  “Just because I don’t want
to wave my valentine all around Happy Haven doesn’t mean I don’t have it and it
doesn’t exist!” 
Now, Essie
, she thought to herself,
don’t overdo it
. 

“Did you really get a valentine from a secret admirer, Miss
Essie?” asked Hubert Darby, looking up at Essie suddenly, his big eyes drooping
soulfully.  It appeared that he hadn’t heard the recent conversation or didn’t
believe it.  Essie glanced from his sad face to that of the face of the
spirited Dave Esperti.  Why and how did she get herself in these pickles?

“Gentlemen,” said Betsy to the men at the table, “really, I
do declare!  You are both putting Essie on the spot!  It’s not polite to press
a lady about her gentlemen callers like this.”  Betsy gave stern glances to
both Hubert and Dave.  The two men shriveled at her expression and refocused on
their cards.

“Trump!” yelled Nadine suddenly.  She laid down a card on
top of one Hubert had just played.  With a gleeful smile, she gathered the
trick and placed it on her pile.  “You see what happens when you get involved
in conversation and forget about the game!”  Dave scowled and scratched his
head.  Hubert sucked on his lower lip and stared at his lap.  Betsy took a deep
breath and gave Essie a very brief smile.

“She’s right!” added Betsy.  “Let’s focus on cards and not
on Essie’s secret admirer!”

“Would you like to play for me, Essie?” asked Nadine.  “I
need to get back to my room.  I have a doctor appointment later today and my
daughter will be here to pick me up shortly.”

“That would be lovely,” replied Essie, as she scooted
herself into the chair that Nadine was deserting.  The two men now perked up as
Essie joined their group.

“So,” said Essie.  “What game is this?”

“Hearts,” answered Hubert and then blushed.

“I like Hearts,” replied Essie.  Dave dealt a new hand and
Essie quickly joined in the fun.  Soon, the four residents were having a good
time, laughing and talking.  There was no more discussion of Essie’s secret
admirer valentine, although Essie was certain that the issue hadn’t been
forgotten.  As the afternoon progressed, Dave and Hubert seemed to be vying
with each other to win Essie’s attention and affection.  Essie found the entire
enterprise humorous.  The best thing about playing cards with her friends right
here in the center of the family room, thought Essie, was that it gave her an
excellent view of her hallway.  If Santos or Grace Bloom came down the corridor
she would be certain to see them.

As it became closer to five o’clock and Essie hadn’t seen
either of her intended targets come down the hallway, she was beginning to get
anxious.  Maybe Grace really was ill.  Maybe Santos was staying in her room to
nurse her.  That didn’t make sense.  Why would a kitchen worker play nurse maid
to a resident?  Surely, if Grace were ill one of the facility’s nurse aides
would be there to assist her.  What was going on?  Essie played a card and
ended the latest round of Hearts.  Dave and Hubert cried “foul!”  Of course,
they were only teasing.  Essie and Betsy enjoyed rubbing in their victory.

As Essie looked up, she saw Grace Bloom walking briskly down
her hallway.  The woman did not appear to be sick.  She had her cane with her
but her pace was even and relatively quick.  Grace did not look towards the
family room so she did not see Essie sitting at the card table watching her
approach.  When Grace came into the family room and moved through the lobby,
she walked immediately to the dining hall where a line was just beginning to
form for the first dinner seating.  This must be, she believed, where she had
previously seen Grace Bloom.  Although Essie always ate during the second
seating, she’d probably seen Grace Bloom departing the dining hall at times when
she had been lining up for her seating.

The card players were calling it quits for the day.  Each
resident needed to return to their individual apartments to clean up before
dinner.  Essie pushed in the chair at the table, rose, and grabbed her walker
and started to head back down her hallway.  On her way, she rolled around into
the lobby where she could see Grace Bloom standing in line.  Grace was having a
spirited conversation with another woman.  Grace did not appear to be sick or
upset. 
Where is Santos?
wondered Essie.  Was he still in Grace’s
apartment while she was down at dinner?  And if so, why?  Why would Grace need
a kitchen worker to bring her a tray of food when she was going to dinner
anyway?  Was she that hungry?  Grace didn’t appear to be inordinately large. 
Maybe she had some metabolic disease and required more than a normal amount of
food. 
Oh, that’s ridiculous!
thought Essie.  There must be a logical
reason for this.

I know
, she thought. 
I’ll just make another visit
to Grace.  If she’s not at home—which she obviously isn’t—we’ll just have to
see who answers her door and what explanation they give
.  Essie rolled her
walker around out of the lobby and back through the family room.  She turned
right down the corridor that entered her hallway, past her own doorway, and
down to the end of her hall.  There, she turned left and pushed her vehicle
down the carpet, counting the doorways on the left as she went.  Five doorways
down she read on the door sign, “Grace Bloom.”  She moved up to the door and
gave a short knock.

From inside she could hear lots of muffled noises.  There
were what appeared to be sounds of scuffling and whispering. 
What is going
on?
she wondered.  She called out.  “Grace!  Are you there?”  She knocked
again, but despite the muffled noises that she could definitely hear from deep
inside Grace Bloom’s apartment, no one came to answer her door.

Tentatively, Essie grabbed the door knob and turned.  The
door was locked. 
Locked!  How can that be?
she thought.  Virtually no
one at Happy Haven locked their doors.  If a resident got sick, nurses had to
be able to get inside quickly.  Yet, there was no doubt.  Grace Bloom’s
apartment door was locked.  And despite the fact that someone was apparently
inside, no one appeared to be willing to answer the door.

Should she call out to Santos?  She thought he might be
inside.  She had seen him enter this very apartment the day before.  She knew
that Grace Bloom was presently in line for dinner.  She didn’t think that
Santos—if he was inside—was in any danger.  Surely, no danger from Grace
Bloom.  Whatever was going on, it appeared to be something that they both were
involved in.  Something that they obviously didn’t want anyone else—including
her—to know about.

She opted for discretion and turned around and rolled back
down the hallway, around the corner and back down to her own apartment.  Once
inside, and after a quick potty break, she slid comfortably and gratefully into
her rocker where she contemplated the various mysteries that had presented
themselves to her that day.

Oh, the life of a detective
, she thought. 
It’s a
lot of work.  Especially when you have more than one case on your plate.
 
In a few seconds, Essie was sound asleep.  Sleep always rejuvenated her.  When
she awoke, she realized that she would miss dinner if she didn’t hurry. 
Wonderful
,
she thought. 
Now I can meet with my three pals and get some help on these
mysteries
.  There surely must be some logical reasons.  Maybe Opal,
Marjorie, and Fay had managed to figure out the secret admirer/drug dealer
mystery themselves.  She pulled herself reluctantly out of her soft recliner
and grabbed the handle bars of her walker.  With a quick stop in front of her
mirror for a face check, she headed out her door and down the hallway to dinner.

Chapter Nineteen

“Speak low, if you speak love.”

—Shakespeare

She arrived at the dining hall just after the doors had been
opened to allow the group for the second seating to enter.  There was Santos,
standing at the dining hall door as he always did for the second seating.  Had
he really been in Grace Bloom’s apartment while she was in the dining hall
eating dinner?  Essie could see Marjorie, Opal, and Fay far ahead in the line. 
Essie glanced around the room to see if Grace Bloom was still there, but
evidently Grace had returned to her apartment.

“Good evening, Miss Essie,” said Santos warmly as Essie
passed through the doorway.

“Humph,” she responded, ignoring the young man who had so
skillfully evaded her and her efforts to solve the mystery of Grace Bloom and
the food tray.  Santos shrugged and smiled at the next resident through the
door.  Essie rolled over to her table and joined her friends.

“So, Essie,” whispered Marjorie, when the four women were
seated, “did anyone ask about the valentine?”

“Shhhh, Marjorie,” cautioned Essie from the corner of her
mouth.  “Let’s be careful what we say.”

“I’m just asking about your valentine, Essie,” said
Marjorie, pointedly.  “You know, the one you received from that secret admirer
of yours.”

“Yes, yes,” responded Essie. 

“We thought you were going to talk it up around the
building,” added Opal.

“Opal,” said Essie, “quietly, please.  You never know who
might be listening.”  She smiled sweetly at her tablemates and picked up her
menu and began to study the evening’s entree choices.  “Lord’s gourds!  What a
selection!”

Santos appeared at their table with his pad in hand.

“Ladies ready to order?” he asked.

“Oh, Santos!” exclaimed Essie, “you surprised me.  You just
seem to pop up, don’t you?”

Santos laughed uncomfortably.

“I’ll have the stuffed peppers,” said Opal.  Santos recorded
her choice and looked up at the other women.

“Oh, me too!” said Marjorie.  “They’re usually so good!” 
Santos made a mark on the pad.  Fay pointed to the stuffed peppers entree on
her menu and Santos added a third mark. 

“How about you, Miss Essie?” he asked.  “Would you like to
join your friends?”

“I don’t know,” said Essie.  “I’m feeling a bit adventurous
tonight!  Maybe it’s because of the beautiful valentine I received from my
secret admirer!”  She made this announcement in a loud voice so that not only
Santos, but all of the surrounding tables and several kitchen workers who were
passing heard her remarks. 

“That is very romantic,” said Santos.  “But you are lovely
lady, Miss Essie.  I can imagine that many of the gentlemen here at Happy Haven
have big crush on you.”  He gave Essie a short bow.

Essie fluffed her hair in a staged gesture of vanity.

“Oh, my admirer isn’t from Happy Haven,” she announced in
her same public address quality voice.  “He’s from Boston!”

Her three friends grimaced noticeably.

“Boston?” asked Santos.  “Boston is very far, is it not?”

“Yes,” replied Essie, now sounding as if she were giving a
geography lesson.  “Boston is located on the east coast in Massachusetts.”

“Do you have any idea who this admirer is?” continued
Santos, obviously intrigued.

“No,” replied Essie, “but I would certainly like to know! 
It’s not every day that a girl has a secret admirer!”  She practically yelled
the phrase “secret admirer” and directed the comment over her shoulder so that
the entire dining hall could hear her remark.  “Oh, and Santos, I’ll have the
oysters!”  Her friends gasped, but Santos just chuckled.  Having finished
collecting the dinner orders from Essie’s table, he gave a short bow and
swiftly headed back to the kitchen.

“Essie,” said Opal in a whisper when the young waiter had
retreated, “Oysters!  You hate oysters!”

“As do most sensible people,” responded Essie, “so I’m sure
my ordering them got a lot of attention.”

“You aren’t being very discreet,” said Opal.  “And now
you’ll have to eat those horrid things.”

“I’m not that hungry,” replied Essie with a shrug.

“You know what Detective Abbott said,” added Marjorie,
warning her friend.

“Shhh, Marjorie,” replied Essie, also in a whisper.  “No
talk of you know who.”  She then smiled broadly for the other residents who had
taken notice of her.  The four women conversed quietly for a while about
innocuous topics until the other diners appeared to lose interest in them.