Getting Old Is Criminal by Rita Lakin Read Free Book Online Page B

says, “she was surprised all right. And not very happy to see us.
    But Philip, he was thrilled. He chastised her ever so sweetly for keeping her lovely children from him. I thought he was wonderful.”
    “I thought he was smarmy,” says Alvin. “I immediately knew my mother was in danger.”
    *
    *
    *
    When the Fergusons leave, a few minutes after admonishing us to get on the case quickly, there is a collective sigh of relief in my living room. Everyone stretches out to get more comfortable.
    “What a nosy guy. Like he needed to know my private business?” Sophie is still insulted.
    “Poor Shirley,” Bella whispers. “He must be awful to live with.”
    “She ain’t no walk in the park, either,” Ida adds.
    “Okay, so they deserve each other.” Bella feels better about it now that that’s settled.
    “Okay,” comments Ida, “the first check cleared, now we’re official. Where do we go from here?”
    I get up and start to clear the tea things.
    “Directly to Grecian Villas, where the alleged crime took place.”
    But while the girls head back to their own apartments to get ready for the drive, I quickly dial G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 6 1
    Jack’s number. As it rings, I plan what to say. I hear you almost caught the Peeper . . . Then the answering machine picks up. Suddenly Jack is never at home. Where does he go? Does he have any idea he’s driving me mad? Life is too short to spend it being miserable, so I leave a message this time. I tell him I have to see him.

    NINE
    GRECIAN VILL AS
    We pull up to the front door of the retirement hotel where the ill-fated Esther Ferguson and Philip Smythe (a.k.a. Romeo) lived. We’ve taken the case. Alvin has instructed us to go full steam ahead and not worry about expenses. Music to our ears. Even though Shirley told us otherwise.
    The girls have dressed up for their foray into the land of the obscenely wealthy. No flip-flops today.
    They ooh and ahhh at the sparkling white arch-ways and pillars that grace the front of Grecian Villas’ main building.
    Inside, the theme continues. Marble gray-white floors and whitewashed walls hung with paintings of ancient and modern Greece. Furniture in muted tones. Floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere. Well-dressed residents lounging about a huge lobby G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 6 3
    reading or quietly chatting. Soft music piped in through hidden speakers.
    “Elegant,” whispers Evvie.
    “Too quiet,” retorts Ida.
    “Works for me,” says Sophie to Ida. “I could live in a place like this. It fits my standards of living.”
    Bella just stares—up, down, everywhere, her mouth hanging open.
    A resident directs us to the office of the general manager, Rosalie Gordon. The room is soothing, the manager elegant. She is tall, in her forties, dressed simply but stylishly. Her assistant, a slightly chubby woman in her twenties, works across the room. She is introduced to us as Myra.
    Like her boss, she wears muted colors. They blend in with the wall décor, as if even management should be inconspicuous to the residents of this luxury community.
    After a few pleasantries about the weather, Mrs.
    Gordon starts her spiel about the facility. Do we want to know about the amenities first? The health and wellness plan? Which of us is interested in joining the happy Grecian Villas family? She is busily pulling out brochures for us as she speaks.
    I stop her quickly by taking out our card and handing it to her. For a moment she studies it, confused. “You’re all private investigators?”
    I say, “Yes,” and the gang nods eagerly. “We’re investigating the death of Esther Ferguson.”

    6 4 • R i t a L a k i n
    She looks even more perplexed, as does her assistant.
    “At the behest of her son, Alvin.”
    “I see,” says Mrs. Gordon. “It’s not about the missing Oriental rug? I already told him it must have been lost by the movers.”
    “It’s not that. It’s about how she died.”
    “This