Geezer Paradise (4 page)

             
I walked into the icy air of the supermarket and shivered.  If they turned the air conditioning down they could make themselves a better profit, and maybe even lower their prices a little more.  Most of the people in the park have these little wire bag carriers they pull behind them when they go shopping, but I refuse to do that.  So I have to limit myself to what I can carry.  I could take the Wrangler, but with the price of gas being what it is I drive as little as possible. 

             
I picked up a two quart plastic bottle of milk, a loaf of bread, and a quarter pound of sliced turkey.  Then I headed for the checkout. 

             
"It's cold in here," I said to the cashier, a middle aged woman with a red beehive hairdo. 

             
"Wait until you go back outside," she said.  "Then the heat will really hit you."                                                                                                                                                   "I'll bet."  I paid the cashier and left with the jug of milk in one hand and a plastic bag with the turkey and the bread in the other.  The cashier was right, the minute I stepped outside, the heat hit me like a brick wall.  I pushed the button to change the traffic light so I could cross.  I waited while an older couple in a tan Lexus came to a stop in the far lane, then I stepped off the curb.  I gave the couple a wave with my bag and smiled.  The old man behind the wheel responded by giving me a look of horror. 

             
As his window came down he yelled. "Look out."  It was only then that I heard the roar of the engine--a large, black car was racing toward me, going about forty miles an hour.  He wouldn't be able to stop in time even if he tried-- and he wasn't trying.  I dropped the milk and the bag and tried to outrun it.  It seemed like the black car was being aimed at me.  I made it to the Lexus and tried to jump onto the hood, but I couldn't make it.  The speeding black car whipped past me so close that the wind from it pushed me against the Lexus' fender.  The woman inside the Lexus screamed--or maybe it was me. 

             
We watched as the black car lost control, went up on the sidewalk, then dropped back down onto the road and sped away.  I stood there in a daze, my legs giving out.  The driver of the Lexus got out and held me up.  His wife was picking up my lunch. 

             
"Are you hurt?" the man asked. 

             
"I don't think so." 

             
The wife handed me the bag and the milk jug.  "It looked like that man was trying to kill you," she said. 

             
"Damn right," the husband added.

             
"John," the wife scolded.  "Don't use that kind of language."                                           

             
"Well, either that or he was mighty drunk," John said. I finally composed myself enough to thank them for their help.  I put the bag in my hand that was already holding the milk jug and shook his hand.  I nodded my thanks to the wife. 

             
"Please be careful," she said.  "Maybe you should stay indoors for a while." 

             
"That sounds like a good idea," I said, and waved them goodbye.  I watched them drive off, and then I wobbled to the sidewalk and headed home on unsteady legs.  It did seem to me that the driver of that black car knew what he was doing, but he also could have been drunk, or on drugs.  I hadn't seen the driver, the windows all had that dark tint on them.  If he was drunk it was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  But if he wasn't drunk, he was trying to kill me! Could it be linked to Flaherty?  Did he send someone to kill me?  Was I paranoid--or was it just bad luck?  I would know soon enough, if they were trying to kill me they would try again.  I decided not to tell Willey about it.  He would go overboard and demand that we both arm ourselves with Uzi's.  Time would tell.  I'd just be more careful crossing the streets for a while.

              After lunch I was sitting in my Florida room. On the table next to the couch was the latest novel by Randy Wayne White.  I'd had to wait two weeks for it to come through the library.  I decided to lose myself in the perils of South Florida crime, and leave fighting the bad guys to Doc Ford, Sanibel Island's erstwhile detective.  I picked the book up and started patting my pockets looking for my glasses.  Then I remembered I had left them on the kitchen counter.  I went into the kitchen and picked them up--and then I dropped them.  I picked them up again--and dropped them again.  It's a game old people play.  It's called, Pick it up and Drop it.  When I sat down to read and put my glasses on I discovered I was missing the left lens.  It must have fallen out when I dropped them.  No problem.  The last time I was in the drugstore I picked up an eyeglass repair kit.  I found the missing lens and the kit and sat down at the kitchen table.

             
I opened the plastic case and took out the screwdriver, which was the size of a paper match, and the screws, which were the size of fruit flies.  I soon discovered why fix it yourself kits for eyeglasses don't work.  In order to fix your glasses you have to take them off--and then you can't see those tiny screws.  But I refused to give up.  Eventually, after much cursing and angst, I managed to get the lens in and tighten the frame around it.  I was proud of myself.  I took the glasses over to the kitchen sink and gently washed away my thumb prints.  I dried them off with a dish towel--and then I dropped them.  The left lens popped out and rolled around on the floor.  I guess I didn’t tighten the screw enough.

             
Then I did what I should have done in the first place, I got into my Wrangler and drove to the eyeglass store at the mall.  The Wrangler rattles and groans a lot, but it keeps running.  That's what's important.  Traffic was light and I made good time getting to the mall.  I went inside and found the eyeglass store on the first floor.  That worked out well because if it was on the second floor I would have to walk by Clarkson's Furniture Store.  I walked into the eyeglass store and smiled at the pretty little brunette girl behind the counter, I put the parts of my glasses down on the counter-top in front of her. 

             
"Could you please put the lens back in for me?" I pleaded.    

             
"Of course," she said, and she smiled at me like I was her very own grandfather--the one who has lost his marbles and drinks too much, and they hide him in a closet
when company calls.
 
In no time at all she had my glasses back together.  I thanked her
profusely and picked up my glasses--and then I dropped them.  The girl took them and put them into a case.

             
"That way they won't come apart when you drop them," she said.  I noticed she didn't say,
if
you drop them, but
when
you drop them.  She must see a lot of old geezers like me.  She didn't even charge me for the eyeglass case.

             
That afternoon Willey came over with a message from Eduardo.  "Barney, Eduardo says his grandmother runs a halfway-house and one of her charges, a guy named, Darryl, is giving her a bad time.  He says he can't get free to go and help her with this guy and he wants to know if we'll go to Tarpon Springs to help her."

             
"Do you have directions to Sofie's house?" I asked.  Willey held up a piece of paper with the instructions written on it.  I put the book down.  "I'm ready to go now," I said.  I jumped up and grabbed my car keys.  The thought of that guy giving Eduardo's pretty grandmother a hard time made my blood boil.  When we got into the Wrangler Willey was smirking and said, "I figured you wouldn't need much convincing to ride to Sofie's rescue, judging by the way you looked at her the other day."

             
"No woman should have to put up with that kind of abuse," I said.  "By the way, just what kind of abuse is Eduardo talking about?"

             
"Eduardo says Darryl eats constantly and keeps Sofie cooking for him all day.  That isn't bad enough, but then he shouts orders at her to hurry up and get his food, and he acts like she's his personal servant.  He calls her, 'Hey you.'  The guy sounds like a real jackass."             

             
"Sofie's not in any danger from this guy, is she?"                                          

             
"The only one in danger is Darryl.  Eduardo is afraid Sofie will lose it and shoot the bugger."

             
As we drove up 19A to Tarpon Springs I noticed the roads weren't crowded.  That was one of the good things about the Florida summers, the tourists go home.  We pulled into Sofie's driveway and looked the house over. It was a red brick cottage sitting right on the water.  There was a deck on the back with a small dock for boats.

             
"Nice setup she's got here," Willey said.  "I'd love to live on the water."

             
"Everybody wants to live on the water," I said.  "Let's get in and rescue Sofie."  We walked to the front door and rang the bell.  When Sofie opened the door she looked a little frazzled but she looked even prettier than I remembered.  She came outside and closed the door behind her so we could talk in private.  I guessed Darryl was nearby.

             
"Oh, Barney and Willey, thank you for coming," she said.  "I don't think I can put up with much more from this guy.  He's scheduled to testify against organized crime next week but I don't think I can last that long.  I'm on the verge of killing him."

             
So Sofie didn't run a half-way house, it was a safe-house.  No wonder she carried a gun. "Please come in," she said, and we trouped into the kitchen. Darryl, a very round man, sat at the table stuffing his face. 

             
"What's dis?" Darryl demanded of Sofie.  "Don't ya know better than ta bring strangers inna da house.  Did ya frisk em for guns?"

             
I could see Sofie's jaw getting tight, and she seemed to be reaching into her apron pocket where the telltale bulge of a gun resided.  I knew just how to keep Darrell in line--he was a man who lived to eat.  I stepped in front of Sofie and said, "Hello, Darryl.  Good to see you."

             
"Well it ain't good ta see you two bums, get outta here."  Sofie tried to step past me but I held her back by putting out my arm out. 

             
"That won't be possible, Darryl," I said.  "Willey and I were sent here to give Sofie a couple of weeks off.  Seems like somebody has been giving her a bad time.  Until she returns we'll be protecting you."

             
Darryl's jaw dropped.  "Kin you guys cook?"

             
"No, but I saw Willey here boil water once.  He was pretty proud of that."  I heard Willey snort behind me. 

             
Darryl started to sweat. "You can't do dat ta me!" he protested.  "How am I gonna' live if none a you guys kin cook?"

             
Then I threw Darryl the sucker punch.  "You'll have to eat what Willey and I will eat."

             
"You gonna' get take-out from a restaurant?" Darryl asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

             
"No, that’s too expensive.  You know everybody's cutting back these days.  We'll just paper bag it from a burger joint."

             
Darryl went pale.  "You can't do dat ta me," Darryl sputtered.  "I'll die eatin' dat stuff."

             
"Well, you can always go out to eat in a restaurant," I said.  I thought Darryl was going to cry.  We all knew if he went out in public it wouldn't be long before he met a hail of bullets.  We had him just where we wanted him. 

             
Darryl plastered a phony smile on his face and spread his hands, "Hey, you guys knew I was just jokin' around wit the lady, din't ya.  I was just teasin' her a little, dat's all.  Makin' like I'm a tough guy or somethin', ya know?  She's a real sweetheart, takin' care a me an all.  I really appreciate her, an I'll be on my very best behavior from now on.  Honest, I swear on my mudder's grave."

             
I looked at Sofie.  "If he behaves himself I'll stay," she said.

             
"Honest I will lady, I give ya my word."                                                                                

             
I didn't think Darryl's word was worth much, but I knew he would do anything to keep Sofie cooking for him. We all looked at Sofie.  "I'll stay as long as you keep your word, Darryl," she said.

             
"Honest I will, I promise."  Darrell gave her his choirboy smile.                                   

             
"In that case I won't need a vacation after all," Sofie said.  We all smiled at that.  On the way out Sofie gave Willey and me a big hug.  "Thank you guys, you saved my life."  I figured it was Darryl's life we saved.