Rita Lakin_Gladdy Gold_01 (19 page)

32

Back to Reality

I
guess I drove home. My car
must have made it back on autopilot. Oh, wonderful world of limitless
possibilities. Jack Langford. All these years so near and yet so far.
We might never have met again had it not been for--murder. Francie, why
aren't you here? You would have enjoyed the irony.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I am aware of
something flickering. It's coming from across the parking lot, a
ground-floor apartment. Denny's apartment. There is only the barest
sliver of dull light shining through the louvers on the front door, but
it seems to be moving. Is it a fire? Oh, please, God, no! I quickly
park my car and hurry over. The kitchen blinds are shut tight and I
can't see anything. I knock, but he doesn't answer. I keep knocking.
Finally he speaks to me through the door.

"Who is it?" A mean, unfriendly voice.

"It's me, Gladdy."

"Go away."

"I thought I saw a fire--"

"There's no fire."

I'm relieved, but to my own surprise, I suddenly say,
"Denny, may I come in? I'd like to talk to you."

"No. Not now."

"Promise we'll talk soon. All right?"

"Yeah. Some other time."

"All right then. Good night."

I start back across the parking area again and head for
my place, my mind wanting to return to pleasant thoughts of Jack. But
the sound of Denny's voice has pulled me into the here and now. His
behavior in the garden was odd. Now this. It's obvious he's avoiding
everyone. One of these days, I am going to make him talk to me and tell
me what's wrong. Though I don't want to admit it to myself, I don't
want to know. I'm afraid to know. . . .

33

The Living Dead

D
enny peered out the
peephole and waited until he was sure Gladdy stepped into the elevator.

Moving lethargically through his cramped apartment,
he was no longer aware of the putrid smells around him. Of his own body
odor from too few baths. Of the clothing he no longer washed. Of the
garbage piled up in the kitchen and the filthy dishes in the sink. All
he knew was that he was tired all the time. All he wanted to do was
sleep. And he couldn't sleep. Life was only bearable when he was in his
garden.

He placed a flickering black candle under his
mother's portrait and straightened the black crepe he had wrapped
around it. He did that every evening before the phone call. It was a
ritual he dared not stop.

It was stifling in the apartment. He knew he should
fix the air conditioner, but he didn't care that he could hardly
breathe. He didn't care about anything anymore. He only wanted it to
stop.

Everything was wrong in his life now. He'd even lost
his keys. He never lost keys before!

He had been so happy. Without
her.
He had
his
garden and his jobs for all the ladies. Everyone was so good to him.
They gave him presents and food. Nobody ever made him feel bad. Like
she
always did.
Why did she have to come back and ruin
everything?

For seven wonderful years he'd thought he was rid of
his mother forever. But then on the night before her birthday, she'd
called him. How was it possible? And she sounded so strange. It didn't
sound like her. But she knew everything about him and reminded him that
it was because of him she'd died on this very date, the night before
her birthday. He had killed her. Because he was a bad boy. He deserved
to be punished. Then he knew it had to be her.

He didn't understand how she could phone him from
heaven. She laughed and said they had all the modern conveniences. But
he would never know that because he would never go to heaven. Because
he was bad.

But why? What did she want from him? She told him,
but he didn't really understand. How? he had cried out in anguish. She
said she was lonely in heaven and she wanted her friends to join her.
She couldn't wait until God was ready to send them. Oh, no, she had to
have it her way, like she always did when she was alive. But it was
confusing. It made his head hurt to try to understand. His mother never
liked those ladies. She didn't have any friends.

Denny kept looking at the clock, waiting for it to
be
ten. Afterwards, he wouldn't be able to sleep. No wonder nothing got
done around here anymore.

He sat on the couch, hands clenched, staring at the
clock, praying for it to be over. He didn't want to do this every
night, but he didn't dare disobey her. He had tried once. He left the
house, so he wouldn't be there at ten when the phone rang. The next day
he found a dead rat in his bed. Strangled. He threw up when he saw it.
And that night when she called she warned him: The next time it would be
his
neck.

The second hand was nearing the end of the hour. He
suddenly realized he had to pee, but it was too late. He had to answer
on time. He didn't dare be late.

The old grandfather clock chimed the hours. Six . .
.
seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . ten. Ten o'clock. And the phone
rang. Denny, staring at the phone, felt paralyzed. Pick up, Denny, now!

With sweating, shaking hands he lifted the receiver.

"Mama?"

He listened with the growing awareness that he
should
have gone to the bathroom first. He jiggled his body up and down,
trying to control his bladder.

"But I did pick it right up. I did."

"No, the clock isn't wrong, I swear."

"Oh, no, Mama, not another one. Please."

"But, why? Don't you have enough friends up there?"

"No, I don't want to. Why do you say that? I don't
want them dead."

"But I don't remember doing that." He shivered with
fear. "I can't sleep, so how can I do that in my sleep?"

"Mama, no, I'm not fighting with you. I'm not . . ."

He couldn't help himself and Denny, mortified, could
feel the pee running down the inside of his pant legs. He was sure she
could see it. She saw everything he did.

His voice was dead now. Dead as he was feeling. "Who
is it this time, Mama?"

"Yes, Mama, whatever you say."

Denny hung up the phone and sank to the floor. It
was
over. For tonight anyway. He stared at the damp spot on his pants and
began to sob.

34

Back in Business Again

W
hat a night! When I finally
do fall asleep--nightmares galore. Denny was in my tortured night
visions. Crying and standing over a grave, waving white flowers and
whispering "Not me, not me." When the grave looked like it was opening
up--well, that sure woke me up, covered in sweat and absolutely
terrified. I shudder to think what the dream was trying to tell me.

That keeps me up a few more hours, pacing, thinking,
attempting to read, until I can finally fall back to sleep again.

Around eight
A.M.
I'm awake
again, feeling like I just drove a ten-ton truck to Tallahassee and
back. I drag myself into the kitchen and make my morning coffee.

While carrying my cup and my toast to the dining room
table where my crossword puzzles await, my eye catches something white
on the floor, half hidden under the front door. I retrieve it after
setting the coffee down.

And at the same moment the phone rings. As I answer it,
I'm aware that the note is from Evvie. I feel terrible. We've come to
this. To talk to me she has to leave a note under my door.
Mea
culpa,
as my pal Conchetta would say.

"Good morning," says Jack Langford cheerfully. "Hope I'm
not calling too early."

"No, not at all," I say, still preoccupied by the note.

"I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our evening
together."

"Thank you. I did, too."

"You sound distracted."

"I'm sorry. I am. I had a fight with my sister and I'm
feeling overwhelmed with guilt."

"Not good. Guilt is something we should not have to
suffer at our advanced age."

"Easily said . . ."

"I know. Well you do what you have to do to repair the
damage and call me when your mind is clear."

"Thanks for understanding, Jack."

After I hang up I read Evvie's note.
Glad. We're
still
on the job. We have important news about Leo the Sleaze and his
real-estate company. They are up to no good. Evvie.

This is so stupid! What am I supposed to do--never forgive
them? Live here and never talk to them again? Sneak around so that we
don't ever run into one another? So Evvie reached out first, attempting
to make up. I can guess how much it cost her. I have to let them off
the hook even though I'd still like to wring all their necks.

I put on my sweats and walk outside to begin peace
negotiations. This is my way of announcing to them that I am willing to
begin our daily walks again, and channels are now open for further
communication. Immediately, I can feel eyes peering out at me from
behind louvered windows.

Sure enough, Evvie is out her door in a flash. Playing it
cool, she does her warm-ups without facing me. She calls out to me
across the parking area. "So, how did you sleep last night, Glad?"

If she only knew. This isn't the time or place to tell
her about my nightmares. I call back. "Pretty good. Only got up twice."

And here comes Bella, peeping out her door to make sure
it's safe to make an appearance. Evvie must be nodding at her, because
she, too, is now out and moving at her usual snail pace.

"Hi, Gladdy," she calls tentatively at me.

"Hi, Bella," I answer. I can see her grin clear across
the way.

Here comes Ida, doing her warm-ups. Head up, nose in the
air, and definitely not looking at me. She is not going to say hello.
Never one to accept blame for anything, in her mind she did nothing
wrong; I'm to blame.

Sophie pokes her nose out the kitchen window. "I'm
coming. I'm coming!"

"I think we need to have a meeting," I announce.

"When?" Bella asks eagerly.

"As soon as we can."

"I have a full pot of coffee on." This from Evvie.

Ida finally speaks. Grudgingly. "I'm not in a walking
mood anyway. Might as well do it now."

Evvie chimes in. "Sounds good to me. Come on over."

With that, Ida walks right past me to the elevator.

Sophie calls out from inside her door. "I'm almost ready!"

I catch up with Ida at the elevator. From the expression
on her face, I can tell she was hoping not to ride with me. We descend
without speaking.

Finally, I sigh. "Truce?" I ask her.

"You hurt my feelings. We were only trying to help."

"I know," I say. "Let's get past it."

A pause. Ida isn't about to give me any easy
satisfaction. "Well. We'll see how it goes."

But she is still not looking at me as we cross over to
Evvie and Bella's building.

As usual it takes a while to get the coffee, cut the
bagels, spread the cream cheese, exchange some quick gossip, get
settled around the dining room table. The only difference is that
everyone is uncomfortable. Ida's body is still turned away from me.
Bella is looking nervously from one of us to the other and Evvie can't
quite look me in the eye.

Finally everyone runs out of unimportant things to do or
say. Evvie, seeing silence as dangerous, taps on the table with her
teaspoon. "The meeting of the Gladiators will now come to order." She
looks around, "Where's--"

The door bursts open and there's Sophie, half-dressed,
looking frazzled, breathless and hyperventilating. She stares at us,
just sitting there, puts her hands on her hips, and fires away. "Well,
this is a fine kettle of fish and chips! I see you all out on the
walkway, so I hurry into my sweats. I come out and you're all gone. So,
I figure you went downstairs, but I can't find you on the path, so I
figure it was time to go swimming, so I run back in and put on my suit,
then I don't see you near the pool--"

Ida puts her hand over Sophie's mouth. "Shah, still!
Close your mouth or you'll catch flies."

Sophie jerks her hand away. "Nobody ever thinks about me!
You know I'm not good at rushing, and what am I, a mind reader, to know
you're all up here at Evvie's? I knocked on everybody's doors!! Is this
a way to treat a person?"

Bella jumps up and gets her a cup of coffee as Ida pushes
an onion bagel at her. "It's all right. It's over. Sit. Eat. Listen."

"As I was saying," Evvie continues as Sophie noisily
accepts the bribes, "the meeting has come to order. We all know all the
old business, so we better go straight to what's new . . . ."

Bella gets excited. "Tell Glad what we found out about
Leo."

"I was just getting to it."

Ida jumps in. "I was there, too. I'm a witness."

"Anyway, we were heading to the pool when we ran into
Tessie. Tessie had news. Selma's apartment finally sold. She heard this
from Selma's kids."

"Well, that's good," I say.

"No, it's bad."

Ida can't stand being left out. "So we naturally asked,
who did they sell to? And when are they moving in?"

Evvie fairly pushes her. "Will you let me tell it
already? Tessie says no one is moving in. A company bought the place.
And they got it dirt cheap because it was on the market so long."

"Uh-oh, that's bad," I say. "When that news gets out, the
property values will drop and they're plenty low now."

Evvie says, "You know, other people can be a detective,
too. I go into the office and look through the condo records and I call
up the families of all the people who died in the last six months in
all the phases. And guess what?"

Ida bursts in again. "All bought by different companies.
With no people moving in anywhere!"

"With one family after another taking cheaper prices
after these companies told them what the one before sold for."

Sophie is sitting on the edge of her chair. "So what does
it mean? Are they waiting 'til real estate prices go up and they'll
sell at higher prices?"

"Hah!" says Evvie. "We bought our units over twenty years
ago, and our dumb luck--everywhere around us condos are worth a hundred
thousand and up and we got the only price that never budged! This place
always stayed cheap--" She stops suddenly, getting it, eyes wide. "But
the real estate it's sitting on must be worth a fortune. . . ."

"So," I say, nodding at her, coming to the same
conclusion. "They intend to buy us all out and tear this place down and
build something much more valuable."

"Like a fancy high-rise," says Bella.

"Or, God forbid, a shopping mall!" says Ida.

"What's so bad about a shopping mall?" Sophie muses.

Ida swats her with a napkin. "Dummy, so where would you
live?"

"Bad, very bad." Now I'm worried, too. "You said
'companies.' More than one?"

"Yes, about a half dozen different companies, but our
accountant, Lou, is smart. He starts looking up the companies for me
and surprise, surprise, there is one mother company who owns them all,
by the name of Sunrise-Sunset, and that takes us squarely back to Leo
Slezak."

"That gonif," says Sophie indignantly. "They're out to
get all our apartments, one way or the other."

Bella picks up her coffee cup and her hand is shaking so
hard the cup rattles. "But would they kill us to get them?"

I say, "Sleaze and his gang may be crooks, but
cold-blooded murderers?!"

Ida says, "Makes sense to me. It would explain why they
were trying to make us believe they were heart attacks."

"Counting all the phases, he'd have to kill off
approximately a hundred and fifty of us," I say.

Ida still likes her theory. "Instead of serial killers we
have mass murderers."

"Oh, well, another theory shot," Evvie says, ignoring
Ida. She folds her arms, looking determined. "We'll get to the bottom
of this mess, don't you worry."

"I have something else to report, though it might not
mean anything." With that, I tell them of my funny little conversation
with Millie and Yolanda.

Bella is truly shocked. "Esther Feder is not a cripple?!"

Sophie is grinning from ear to ear. "I knew it. I knew
something was phony with that old broad!"

"She could be sneaking around when she knows no one is
looking, like at night, when Harriet is also sleeping." Bella looks
worriedly from one to the other. Then she brightens. "Maybe she and the
Kronk hung out by the Dumpsters together?"

"But what could it mean?" Evvie asks, ignoring Bella. "It
couldn't mean . . . it couldn't . . ."

"I doubt that," I say, "and besides, look at who told me.
Millie? Yolanda? Maybe they made it up."

"I can believe it," Ida says. "She's plenty strong
enough. Think of the muscles she has from wheeling that chair around."

"Should we say something to Harriet?" Evvie says.

"I personally am amazed. Someone as smart as Harriet
wouldn't catch on?" Sophie is not convinced.

Bella says, "I don't think we should say anything. Not
'til we're sure."

"We could let a mouse run loose in the house and watch
her get up and run," Sophie offers.

"Where would we get a mouse?" Bella asks, already
contemplating this as a plan.

"Oh, my God," says Evvie excitedly. She quickly looks
through her purse-size calendar of events. "That reminds me. I've been
keeping track of everybody's birthday in our phase. Esther's birthday
is in three days!"

Bella ponders that aloud. "Well, if Esther was the
killer, she wouldn't kill herself on the night before her birthday.
That would be suicide."

Sophie jumps in, liking this scenario. "So, if she is
killed then it would mean she isn't the killer. And she's cleared
herself of the crime. Then she wouldn't have to go to jail."

Evvie is excited. "I think we better have a meeting with
Harriet, and fast."