Getting Old Is Criminal (13 page)

SIXTEEN

MOVIN’ OUT

Why am I not surprised that there is a small crowd surrounding the mint green Cadillac parked in my usual spot? In fact, I’d be amazed if there weren’t. Never mind that it is early in the morning and Evvie and I want to get started for Palm Beach. The word got out, and hail, hail, the gang’s all here.

Alvin Ferguson is a man of his word. He is send-ing us first-class. Evvie’s cab is also here, our plan being not to arrive in the same vehicle, since we are not supposed to know each other. Evvie is already having the driver store her fake Louis Vuitton suitcase in the taxi’s trunk and modeling her traveling outfit and sophisticated hairdo for all our onlookers. Everything we have is new and we get lots of oohs and ahhs from the women.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 2 3

Hy and Lola watch from their second-story balcony. Sol is walking around, kicking the Cadillac tires and doing other silly things men do. He is followed by Denny, who imitates Sol’s actions. The hood is open and they take turns examining the engine with knowing nods. Even a couple of the Canadian men have come out to stick their heads under the hood.

I am also dressed in my new duds and have also been to the hairdresser. The bystanders admire my new trappings, too, as I put my suitcase in the trunk of the Caddy. They look me up and down; this other member of the newly rich. The comments begin.

Hy calls down, “Fancy-schmancy. You sure you know how to drive a car manufactured later than 1950?”

“Hoo-ha,” says Mary.

“How about a test drive?” Tessie leans over the upholstery while drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream. Evvie pulls her away. “Not bloody likely.”

Hy can’t resist it. “Ya really think you’ll fool those rich dames?” His wife, Lola, punches him playfully. She of the mixed messages.
You shouldn’t
say such mean things, but you’re so cute and clever
doing it.
Talk about brainwashing.

“Don’t worry about us, dahling,” Evvie says.

“Most of them started out as poor as we did.”

Barbi and Casey come by, wearing tennis togs 1 2 4 • R i t a L a k i n

and carrying their rackets. They stop to catch the action.

“Very nice,” says Barbi.

“Win the lottery?” Casey asks.

“New case,” Hy answers for me.

“They’re going undercover.” Lola takes her turn after her husband. He always gets to speak first.

“Yeah,” says Hy, “but what about visiting hours? We can pretend to be your poor relatives from the East Bronx looking for a handout. We’ll even drive up in
your
car.”

“There are
no
visiting hours!” Evvie is practically screeching. “Do
not
call. Just butt out!”

Hy and Lola nudge each other. They love to pull Evvie’s chain.

With their expressions, Barbi and Casey send me a message. Call if you need us. I nod.

I am aware that my own girls are standing off to one side, saying nothing. Ida is pretending to read the ads from her mailbox. Sophie and Bella stare aimlessly. I suffer for them because they are feeling left out. But there’s nothing I can do.

“How long will you be away?” Irving stands by Millie in her wheelchair.

“Yeah, I want to know, too.” Sol stares lovingly at Evvie, who refuses to look at him. “Maybe we could have another go,” he suggests.

There is smirking and giggling at that, since most of those standing here were witness to the Sol and Evvie breakfast debacle.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 2 5

“Time to get moving,” Evvie says briskly, looking at her waiting driver.

My girls look stricken. Sophie and Bella run over and hug us. Bella is near tears. “Hey,” Evvie says, “we’re not that far away and we’ll be going back and forth a lot.”

“If there are any new developments with the Peeper, please call and let us know,” I say to my threesome. “We’ll be in constant touch with our cell phones.” For once, “progress” is coming in handy. Bella and Sophie beam at that.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Irving now getting into Denny’s car with Millie and Yolie. Which surprises me since they hardly ever leave the premises. Twice in one week?

“And keep an eye on Irving and Millie.

Something seems to be going on with them. Let me know.”

“We will,” both Sophie and Bella echo.

Evvie gets into her cab and they start to drive off.

I get into the Caddy and rev up as fast as I can, not all that easy, what with having to try and figure out what all the fancy dials and whatnots are.

“Take your time,” Evvie calls from the cab, waving to all like the grande dame she wants to be, basking in the glory of all those envious faces.

I get the Caddy moving, such a smooth ride compared to my old junker. Turn the corner from Lanai Gardens and don’t look back.

1 2 6 • R i t a L a k i n

*

*

*

I enter Wilmington House after having the Cadillac parked for me by a waiting attendant. No more parking behind the hired help with this hot item. I stand in the lobby, next to my suitcase, and look around. It’s very quiet. A few residents look up from their books, newspapers, knitting, whatever. I smile. A few smile back. Some people are chatting, their voices low. I take a closer look at my new companions-to-be. Last time I was here, I didn’t get the chance. Hmmm. Seems like a clone of Grecian Villas. Yet again, no shorts. No sundresses. No T-shirts. Women wearing pantsuits or skirts albeit cotton. Stockings and low heels. Men in sport shirts and slacks and sport jackets.

Everyone looking very pressed. Is this a uniform for all the retirement facilities except ours?

Evvie arrives moments later with an attitude.

This time just about everyone looks up.

“Thank you so much,” she tells the cabdriver grandiosely, as he plants her suitcase not too far from where I am standing. She looks around the room, waving gaily to one and all. “Hi, there!”

Then she pretends to notice me. We play at looking each other over.

Evvie walks over to me, with her hand out.

“Evelyn Markowitz.”

I accept her handshake. “Gladys Gold.”

Hope Watson rushes over to greet us with a fake G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 2 7

smile. She takes both our hands in hers. “Welcome to Wilmington House. Most happy to see you.”

She addresses the seated group. “These are our new tenants. I’ll formally introduce them at dinner.”

With that, the stylish ladies and gents go back to what they were doing.

Hope, hiding her hostility, asks, “Since you both arrived at the same time, you wouldn’t mind my taking you up to your rooms together?”

“Of course not,” Evvie ever-so-graciously agrees.

In the elevator, the phony smile disappears and Ms. Watson’s intense dislike of us takes over. She says nothing, so we say nothing as well.

When we reach the fifth floor, she leads us down the hall, walking on carpeting so soft one could sink into it. “Per your request, I was able to get you adjoining apartments with inside doors.

You’re lucky, because we don’t have that many ‘en suites.’ ”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Has Philip Smythe moved in yet?” Evvie asks.

She bristles. She’s not in the habit of discussing other residents, but she knows she has no choice in this odd situation. “He’s due much later tonight.”

She changes the subject quickly. “Since you weren’t bringing any of your own furniture, we’ve furnished for you. I hope you find our choices sat-isfactory.”

“I’m sure we will. Thank you again.” My teeth hurt from all the polite smiles.

1 2 8 • R i t a L a k i n

“Do not think I am pleased with this, but it was the board’s decision.”

“I promise we will not do anything to upset the other guests.” I play pacifier. We need Hope’s co-operation.

“I will hold you to that promise. Just give me your background information that I’m to use tonight when I introduce you.”

Evvie takes a list out of her purse and hands it to Ms. Watson.

Hope opens both doors and hands us our keys.

“Rules and regulations, as well as our weekly events schedule, will be found in the desk drawers.

Breakfasts starts at seven. Lunch is at noon.

Dinner is at six. Please be prompt.”

With that, Hope marches quickly away from us.

We walk into our individual front doors. Before we even look around, we unlock the connected inner doors. Evvie looks gleefully at me through our private inside entrances. “Isn’t this great!”

Still grinning, she turns and races away from me to inspect her apartment. I examine my own quarters, which I assume are similar to hers. How lovely. Spacious rooms, high ceilings with classic moldings. The décor, in keeping with the Art Deco downstairs, is exquisite, with softly muted colors and pleasant watercolors on the walls. We each have floor-to-ceiling windows as well as a private balcony and a beautiful view of the spacious grounds. My entire apartment back at Lanai Gardens would fit in the living room alone. I hear G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 2 9

a noise and call into Evvie through her open door.

“Are you all right? What’s that noise?”

Evvie’s joyful voice calls out to me. “That’s me bouncing up and down on the bed. I don’t ever want to go home again. Don’t you just love it?”

I call back to her, agreeing.

She pokes her head into my place, all smiles.

“Ready, get set, and go! I can’t wait to see what our perp looks like. I wonder where Philip Smythe is right now?”

SEVENTEEN

THE MYSTERY MAN

I
t might have been a scene from a romantic
movie. The place: Heathrow Airport. Morning.

Slight rain, misty. An older gentleman, dashing, in
his Burberry raincoat and matching peaked cap. A
woman, a British Royal–class lady. Cashmere coat
and matching wide-brimmed cashmere hat.

Standing next to her Rolls–Royce, her driver waiting patiently and discreetly off to one side.

Their good-byes seem heartfelt, their kisses passionate. The script might have come from any vintage film.

“I wish you didn’t have to jet back to the States
this soon.”

“I hate that I have to leave you. But you know,
I must be back by the first.”

“You’ll call often, of course.”

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 1 3 1

“Every spare moment I have.”

She presses the familiar forest green Harrods
gift bag into his hands. “So you’ll remember me.”

“How could I forget you, my dearest? It’s been
a most magical month. Now I must take my leave
or I’ll miss my flight.”

She presses her handkerchief to her eyes to wipe
the tears, then turns and indicates to her driver to
open the door. “Until next August, my darling.”

The driver helps her into the Rolls, as she continues to look back at her lover. They drive off.

The man waves.

At the same time, nearby, a man in his forties
bids good-bye to a pretty young woman leaving in
a cab.

Both men turn and enter the same airport door,
bumping into each other. They both apologize.

As they walk through the terminal, side by side,
the younger man comments, “You look awfully
pleased.”

“I should be. I’ve just had a wonderful liaison
with a lovely lady.”

“I did, too.”

“Then why do you look so irritable?”

“Because she wants marriage and I want
amusement.”

“Well, why not bed down only the ones without
strings?”

“All of them have strings. Sex as a teaser, then,
having shown their wares, marriage or no more
1 3 2 • R i t a L a k i n

sex. I don’t want to be tied down, just to satisfy my
normal male needs.”

“If I may say so, that’s your problem: Bedding
down younger women. They place too high a price
on what they have to offer. Take some advice from
an old codger like me. It’s the older women you
want. They’re so easy to get and so eager to please.

So many are rich and ever so grateful. And they
give you their all in gifts, in bed and out.” He indicates his Harrods bag.

“Then how do you get rid of them when you
tire of them?”

The elderly gentleman smiles. “That’s never a
problem. Old ladies have a way of dying.”

They pause as each man is about to move
toward a different airline.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip,
Grandpa. Safe traveling.”

“And to you, too, sir.”

They nod at each other, two such men of the
world, each recognizing a kindred spirit.