Getting Old Is a Disaster (20 page)

  We stay silent and deep in our own thoughts, until the captain announces our plane is about to land in Tampa.

  Stanley manages a small smile. "Oy, I talk too much."

  I pat him on the shoulder. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

* * *

"Okay," says Ida, as the girls turn the corner to Phase Four. "This is where she lives. Though I'm telling you, this is a stupid idea."

  Sophie sulks. "You said it fifty times already. You don't have to go with us."

  "I do, because if I didn't, you'd do something dumb and Gladdy would be mad at me for not looking after you while she was away."

  Bella is annoyed with Ida, too. "I wish Evvie had come with us."

  Ida says, "She can't. She's with Joe. Something about having to take him somewhere."

  To spite Ida, Sophie knocks forcefully on Margaret Ramona's ground-floor door.

  The woman opens it and greets them with that cigarette hoarse voice of hers. "Welcome, welcome. Madame Ramona and all the spirits bid you come in."

  Ida rolls her eyes. Once again the "Madame" is wearing large flamboyant clothes. Ida wonders at it, because the woman's hands and feet seem thin. She wears a lot of makeup on her pointychinned face. And has an unsightly big pimple— why doesn't she do something about it? Her long gray hair has pink ribbons entangled in it. Weird broad, Ida thinks.

  Madame Ramona leads them through her living room, heading for the Florida room in the back. Bella pokes Sophie, indicating the paintings on the wall. Ida shakes her head in disbelief. Each of them is painted on a black velvet backdrop and has a gold velvet frame. Elvis Presley with a guitar. Michael Jackson holding a teddy bear. Liberace seated at a piano with a lit candelabra. Shirley MacLaine in a spaceship.

  The Florida room looks like no other they've ever seen. You would never know it was meant to be a sunroom, since it is painted all black, even the windows. The only light comes from white candles on a black chest. Four chairs surround a small table that is covered with a bloodred fringed cloth. On the tabletop is a crystal ball, which Madame Ramona turns over, making imitation snowflakes swarm about a Christmas tree. Next to the crystal ball is a deck of cards. Oh, yes, and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Bella and Sophie ooh and ahh. Ida smirks. A phony, no doubt about it.

  "The spirits bid you welcome and wish you to sit down."

  Sophie and Bella plop down immediately. Ida continues to stand, making sure she knows where the exit is if they have to make a quick run for it. She studies "Madame" for a moment. What's with the smug smile? Ida wonders.

  Sophie attempts conversation. "So, is it true you come from Canada?"

  "Shhh!" demands Madame Ramona. "You are disturbing the spirits." She quickly starts dealing from the tarot deck. "Queen of Wands," she intones melodiously, as she slaps that card down. "There is a woman in your life who holds power over you. The wand represents electricity."

  Bella whispers to Sophie, "See, I told you she'd know about Dora Dooley."

  "Shhh!" Madame Ramona hisses again.

  She deals another card. "Ahhh. The Fool. There is someone else in your life. You think he is a fool, but it is he who fools everyone." She turns over another card. "The Magician. Yes, he deals in magic. You will understand his kindness someday. Now you see him, then you don't." She whisks that card away.

  Sophie and Bella stare, transfixed, even though they have no idea what she's talking about. Ida just keeps shaking her head.

  Madame Ramona continues to deal. "The four of Cups. The Magician gives you a clue with this magical number. He says to think four."

  Suddenly she reshuffles the cards and places the stack facedown in front of her. She shoves a cigarette into her mouth with one hand as the other hand snakes out. "Ten dollars. No checks."

  "What?" squeals Sophie. "You said at the meeting the readings were free."

  "That special offer ended yesterday." Her hand stays open.

  "Go back to before," Bella says, upset. "What about that Queen of Wands? You know. Our queen of the remote. Our problem. We need you to tell us what to do with her watching all that TV."

  Madame Ramona shakes the crystal ball dramatically, and when the "snow" settles down, she says, "The crystal ball has three words for you:
Pull. The. Plug.
"

  She gets up, indicating it is time for them to leave.

  "That does it!" Ida is incensed. She takes a onedollar bill out of her purse and tosses it at Madame Ramona.

  "You owe me nine more," Madame shouts, lighting her cigarette and coughing at the same time.

  "Sue us," Ida says as she pulls both girls out with her.

  Outside the door, Bella begs Ida, "Don't tell Gladdy. Please."

* * *

Lucy Blake Sweeney lives near the waterfront. This isn't the Tampa tourists see. These mean streets have seen hard times. Stanley and I knock at the door of the run-down cottage that is desperately in need of paint. The woman who answers is wiry and haggard. But her denim clothes are clean and her hair is combed. Her demeanor suggests she could be quite a scrapper when necessary.

  Stanley introduces the two of us and Lucy invites us in. She looks sideways at Stanley's yarmulke and black outfit. She must be wondering what this man would want with her.

  We sit at the edge of her rickety living room couch at her suggestion. "The springs sometimes just up and bite your . . . bottom, so be careful." Out of courtesy, she is watching her language.

  She sits opposite us on the only chair in the room, a straight-back plain wooden one.

  She leans forward. "I gotta admit you got my interest piqued. Ya want something to drink? I got some Cokes and beers."

  Stanley answers for us. "No, thank you. We don't want to take up too much of your time."

  She shrugs. "Been laid off again. Time's a'plenty right now."

  "About your brother," Stanley begins. "We don't know whether or not we've come to the right place."

  "I'll let you know."

  He nods. "Your brother, Johnny, died many years ago. Very young."

  "So far yer batting a thousand. The dummy went and left me alone. He was twenty and me nineteen. Never said where he was going, just told me he had to wander. I had no money. No support anywheres. He was all I had for a family." Her eyes tear in memory. "But what does that have to do with you? Don't tell me you're from some bank and you just found a life insurance policy that's been lost for nearly fifty years."

  I say gently, "Sorry. No."

  Stanley continues. "There is no easy way to say this, so I shall just say it. We come from Fort Lauderdale and we have just suffered through a hurricane. A building fell down and we found a skeleton underneath." He pauses.

  She shakes her head. "Now you lost me. What has that to do with me?"

  Stanley seems tired, so I speak. "We think it was your brother."

  Lucy gets up and slaps her thighs, amused. "Boy, are you in the wrong place. My Johnny is buried right here in the church cemetery, not five blocks away. And believe me, there's no doubt but that is his body in that there casket."

  Stanley starts to get up. "Mrs. Sweeney, I'm sorry we bothered you for nothing."

  "Wait," I say. "Would you fill me in on what happened to him?"

  Stanley has no idea why I'm asking. Frankly, neither do I. I'm going on pure instinct.

  "I don't mind," she says. "I haven't thought of the poor lad in years." "I only found out later that he'd taken a job on a freighter that came all the way from Argentina. Guess he wanted to see the world." She takes a photo off a chest of drawers and shows it to us. "That was my brother. Tall, skinny, long drink of water, he was, with big dreams."

  Stanley and I exchange glances. We are both remembering that the foreman, Ed, described his worker as "large, even heavy." Definitely the wrong man. Out of politeness, we wait for Lucy to finish her story.

  "Anyways," she says, "the kid always had bad luck. He wrote to tell me he was on that ship and I was so excited finally hearing from him. The day his ship pulls into port, not eight blocks away from where we're sitting, I wait and I wait and there's no Johnny. Later on, I find out he fell overboard."

  "Somebody see him fall?" I ask out of curiosity.

  "No. The shipping company lied to me. They denied he fell from the ship. Insisted they signed him out that last day. But how could I believe a boy raised on the docks would just fall off of one? I knew something was screwy." She hangs her head, sadly. "He washed up on shore a month later."

  We sit a few minutes longer, but there's nothing left to say. Lucy shows us to the door. Stanley takes out his wallet and offers her some money for her time, what with her being laid off.

  Lucy rears back, insulted. "I don't take charity." With that she slams the door on us.

  Stanley and I walk to the nearest cab stand. "Sorry I dragged you along on such a wild-goose chase."

  "That's all right. How often do I get to travel to these exotic places?"

  "My pleasure." He smiles and follows me across the street. "So what now? Who is the dead man? Will we ever find out?"

A
s we sit at our usual picnic table late that af

     ternoon, I report to the girls about the trip to Tampa. Behind them I can see yet another dump truck dragging away one more load of wrecked furniture. After I give them all the details, I say, "I guess he was the wrong Johnny Blake after all."

  I pause. My brain is trying to come up with something.

  "What?" Evvie asks.

  "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.' "