Bingoed (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-two

“It’s sad to grow old, but nice to ripen.”

—Brigitte Bardot

Essie made it through the rest of the night with no further break-ins. No one attempted to murder her. She also made it through breakfast without being poisoned—at least she had so far. Although, the blueberry pancakes did have a strange wood-like quality. True to her word, Fay brought the tributes to their husbands that she had found on the computer and shared them with Opal and Marjorie. Opal had seen the one for Fred before in her local newspaper, but for Marjorie the article on her husband Albert was totally new and all four women shared her joy in reading someone else’s homage to the most important person in Marjorie’s life. In truth, thought Essie, this was certainly one of the most wonderful breakfasts the four women had shared. All three of the walker users assisted the wheelchair user—Fay—in exiting the dining hall where they congregated in the lobby chatting and socializing with other residents. As they stood there, someone said:

“Look, it’s Bob Weiderley!”

And everyone in the lobby looked towards the main entrance door to discover Bob Weiderley, looking a bit paler than usual, entering the building. He was accompanied by Evelyn Cudahy at his side, assisting him. As he walked through the door, leaning on his cane, a cheer went up from the entire group of residents gathered in the lobby. Bob smiled and looked at Evelyn who also smiled. Bob raised his hand and acknowledged his fellow Happy Haveners. Essie, Marjorie, and Opal stood to the side in rapt attention as Bob moved into the lobby.

“Sit down, Bob!” yelled one of his Canasta buddies. All of the residents shouted their agreement to this request and Bob cautiously limped over to the centrally located sofa and eased himself down into the cushions, still holding firmly to his cane. Evelyn sat beside him, continuing to clutch his sleeve.

“I didn’t expect such a great welcome back!” said Bob, smiling pointedly all around to everyone.

The noise of all the cheering seemed to bring out more people to see what all the noise was. Staff members came in from the dining hall and from out of the hallways. Phyllis stood at the front counter, beaming at the action. Violet Hendrickson and Sue Barber appeared from the office wing and stood at its entrance watching Bob’s homecoming. Hazel Brubaker and Rose Lane watched from near the elevator.

“Bob,” yelled another man standing behind him, “whatever happened at Bingo? You really hit the floor! Too much excitement in winning that big prize, eh?”

“Must have been,” agreed Bob, smiling. Essie wondered at his response. Was this a politically expedient remark? Was Bob being polite or did he suspect someone had poisoned him? Or was he really excited at winning Bingo? Or was he excited or nervous about something else? Like a scam artist or possible illegitimate son? Would Bob open up about what happened to him now here in the lobby in front of everyone or would they have to wait until later—if at all—to find out the truth?

“Are you feeling better, Bob?” asked a tiny lady to Bob’s right.

“Better than ever,” noted Bob.

“Do they know what caused you to collapse?” asked another.

“They . . . uh . . . found a substance in my bloodstream,” replied Bob, tentatively.

“Not marijuana?” suggested a big, round man, laughing.

“Naw,” laughed Bob.

“Was it poison?” asked Essie, suddenly. She felt foolish immediately for jumping the gun—and possibly revealing her cards too soon. She surely didn’t want to upset Bob just when he had come back.

“Naw,” laughed Bob. “At least not poison for most people.”

“What do you mean?” asked Essie. She glanced over to Sue Barber to see if she was indicating any concern over the topic of this discussion. Sue looked concerned but not particularly worried.

“Actually, it’s rather embarrassing,” continued Bob.

“All the more reason to tell us,” egged the fat man.

Bob chuckled. “I suppose you people will never leave me alone until I tell you, will you?

“Right you are, Steve-arino!” said another man. Essie thought the men at Happy Haven were certainly enjoying Bob’s discomfort. The women seemed more concerned about his health and welfare.

“I suppose before I explain, I should—that is, we should make another announcement,” said Bob looking at Evelyn. She nodded at him, blushing. The crowd had now grown to include, in Essie’s estimation, practically everyone who lived and worked at Happy Haven. Who was manning the wheel? she wondered, if there was a wheel.

“Two weeks ago,” said Bob, “I asked Miss Cudahy here if she would honor me by becoming my wife. I was astounded when she agreed.”

“No wonder you collapsed!” said fat man. “I would too if I could sweet talk a babe like Evelyn into marrying me!”

“We were married a week and a half ago at city hall,” continued Bob. Gasps and applause were the response to this announcement. Bob took Evelyn’s hand and squeezed it. They looked at each other with obvious joy. Hazel and Rose beamed from beside the elevator with nary a sign of a shake from Hazel or a tear from Rose.

Phyllis, at the front desk, grabbed her intercom microphone and said: “Residents, I have a wonderful announcement! Bob Weiderley and Evelyn Cudahy are married!”

“Phyllis,” said a woman standing near the front desk. “Who’s listening to their intercom? Everyone in the building is standing here in the lobby.” Everyone laughed.

“Okay, okay,” continued another man, “so you two got married. Is that why you collapsed? You said a strange substance was in your bloodstream?”

“It’s rather embarrassing,” noted Bob, clutching his cane and looking at the floor and then at his wife. “I am 86 and well, I’ve never been married before. I wasn’t exactly certain how . . . if . . . —”

“I told him not to worry,” said Evelyn sweetly, staring into Bob’s eyes. “I told him nothing mattered except that we loved each other.”

Boy, thought Essie to herself, if Evelyn married Bob for his money, she sure isn’t acting like it. It looks like she really cares about the guy. Of course, you never know.

“Anyway,” continued Bob, “I decided before the wedding to try to insure that our honeymoon which was actually just our wedding night in my apartment here . . .”

Must have been the time Bev the beautician had seen the couple head into the elevator together all gooey-eyed, surmised Essie.

“I decided to try this herbal powder that I’d seen advertised in a magazine. I ordered some and had started to use it—and actually I thought it was working pretty good . . .”

“So did I!” agreed Evelyn with a coy smile.

“But that’s what the doctors found in my bloodstream. This weird herb.” And that Marjorie had discovered in Bob’s medicine cabinet, thought Essie.

“Is that what caused you to collapse, Bob?” asked Essie, now wondering how this information affected her concern that Sue Barber had attempted to kill Bob with a poison-drenched dollar bill.

“Nope,” said Bob. “My physicians think this herb I was taking might have interacted with one of my prescription drugs.”

“Did they find any other substances in your blood?” asked Essie.

“You’re really probing, Essie,” said Bob.

“She’s been really concerned about you, dear,” said Evelyn softly to her husband. “And she’s been very good to me while you were in the hospital.”

“Then, no, Essie. They didn’t find anything else.” Bob smiled at Essie who continued to look befuddled as she glanced back at Sue Barber.

“Then they don’t have any idea why you collapsed?” she asked. “I mean, you yelled ‘Bingo’ and Miss Barber checked your tiles and you had all the correct ones. Then she handed you the dollar bill for winning and then you collapsed.”

“Actually, Essie,” said Bob, “you’re wrong. Miss Barber did hold out the dollar bill to me, but I never got it. I was on the floor before I could even get my prize!”

“I can remedy that,” offered Sue Barber, from the sidelines, coming forward and reaching into her purse. “After the EMTs took you away, Bob, I put your winning dollar bill in a plastic bag and stuck it in my purse for safe keeping and to keep it separate from my own money. I figured you’d want your prize when you returned!”

“You’re right, Miss Barber!” said Bob with enthusiasm. “Give me that huge prize I won so I can hand it over to the ol’ ball and chain.” He smiled sweetly at Evelyn and she gave him a nudge in the ribs. Sue Barber took the dollar out of the plastic bag and handed it to Bob.

Essie cringed. Was it really safe for Bob to handle? Surely, if it wasn’t, Sue wouldn’t be showing it off so publicly. If Bob collapsed again and poison was discovered in his system, everyone would suspect immediately that it came from Sue’s dollar bill.

“The final diagnosis,” said Bob, “is that the doctors don’t really know why I collapsed. Isn’t that the way it usually is? They said it was no doubt stress. Ha! I guess you might consider getting married and trying to have a successful honeymoon—all in secret—stressful.” He and Evelyn smiled at each other again.

“But, Bob,” called out the fat friend, “why’d you have to keep your marriage a secret?”

“We just didn’t want anyone to make a fuss,” he offered, “and with Evelyn going through all this chemo . . .”

“Bob wanted to keep everything low-key,” said Evelyn, “but I tried to tell him that happy stress wouldn’t bother me. The stress that bothered me was him being in the coma. But, he’s better now, so I’m feeling much better.”

“And she’s doing much better too,” said Bob to the crowd. Everyone responded with happy sounds.

“Looks like it all worked out for the best!” cried out another woman from far across the room.

“Yes, it did!” agreed Bob, reaching over and giving his new bride a big kiss. The crowd screamed and clapped enthusiastically. Then, as it was evident that the show was over, most started to return to their previous activities. As they dispersed, Evelyn looked up and called to Essie.

“Essie,” she said. “I appreciate all of your kind support for me while Bob was in the hospital.”

“And I appreciate it too, Essie,” added Bob leaning forward. Essie sat down across from the happy couple. Fay, Opal, and Marjorie moved closer behind Essie so they could hear the discussion.

“Essie, if you must know, there’s another reason that I was upset and that possibly led to my collapse,” said Bob.

“It’s what I told you he wanted to tell me about after Bingo that night, Essie,” added Evelyn.

“I explained this to my wife . . .” and he smiled again at Evelyn as using this word obviously still felt new to his lips. “Something happened the day of the Bingo game that caused me a huge shock. I didn’t know what to do about it and I was debating how—or if—I should even tell Evelyn. I eventually realized that I had to tell her and I intended to tell her after Bingo—then I collapsed and wasn’t able to explain the problem until just today.”

“And, Essie, it really isn’t a problem,” said Evelyn. “At least I don’t think it’s a problem.”

Essie wasn’t certain if this “problem” Bob was speaking of related to the letter from Ben Jericho or the newspaper clipping about Violet Hendrickson’s DUI. She chose one.

“Could it have something to do with Violet?” she asked.

“Violet?” asked Bob. “Oh, my! You must mean . . . Essie, are you talking about her DUI conviction?”

“Is that what you’re talking about?” asked Essie.

“No,” said Bob, “I don’t know how you know about that. One of the Board members here asked me to look into Violet’s past—and I had hired an investigator to check into her background. Yes, Violet does have a rather checkered past . . .”

“I’d say,” noted Essie.

“I don’t know how you know about all of that, Essie,” said Bob.

“Essie knows a lot of things,” called out Marjorie from behind her friend.

“She’s very smart,” added Opal. Fay smiled and nodded.

“Anyway,” continued Bob, “my investigator checked into Violet’s background. After all, she is the Director of the facility where I live—and where my wife lives. I want that person to be qualified and ethical. My investigator found quite a few anomalies.”

“Like she’s had several different identities to hide her DUI’s,” said Essie.

“You are a whippersnapper, Essie,” said Bob, shaking his head.

“Yes,” he said. “We found out all of that. But, Essie, all of that happened years and years ago. Violet was named the Director here over twelve years ago—long after her DUI’s and her identity changing had occurred. And the identity changing occurred to cover up each of the DUIs. There was some scandal in how she was appointed, but my investigators never found anything to indicate that she was culpable in securing her position. And since she’s served in an exemplary fashion for the last twelve years—including not only making Happy Haven financially solvent—which it hadn’t been before—but making it actually profitable, I personally see no reason to doubt her capabilities.”

“You mean you’re not stressed out because of Violet,” said Essie.

“Nope,” answered Bob. He looked around. Both Violet and Sue were nowhere to be seen. They had obviously exited with the majority of the residents. Bob and Evelyn were now relatively alone in the lobby with Essie, Fay, Marjorie, and Opal. Phyllis stood behind the counter out of hearing range.