Rita Lakin_Gladdy Gold_01 by Getting Old Is Murder Read Free Book Online Page B

says Harriet Feder, as she installs her mother's wheelchair
into the back of their van. "Off to another movie today?"
    Evvie nods. "Every Saturday afternoon."
    I chime in. "Harriet, why don't you join us?"
    Harriet beams. "Why, I'd like that--"
    "Allow me to say no, thanks, for my Harriet." Esther
Feder's voice rings out from the passenger seat, where she is waiting.
"We're already going to see a movie later."
    "We are?" asks Harriet, puzzled.
    "Yes, Harriet, darling, I just got this idea. After my
doctor's appointment, we can pick up a tape from the video store and
watch it when we get home. You know how we both love that sweet Fred
Astaire. And maybe you'll make your mamma some microwave popcorn."
Esther now directs herself at me. "That daughter of mine won't let me
miss any pleasures just because the good Lord decided to make a cripple
of me. Everyone should have such a good daughter."
    "Poor Harriet," says Evvie as they drive off.
    "I'm glad she didn't come with us," Ida says, still
smarting from the way Harriet treated her at the bank.
    Sophie giggles, remembering Ida's embarrassment. Ida
pokes her in the ribs.
    My eye is caught by the sight of Irving and his pal, Sol
Spankowitz from Phase Three, sitting on a bench near his front door,
foul smoke belching from their stogies. They are leaning over a
newspaper, deep in concentration. The two friends are an odd couple,
Irving being thin, almost frail and hunched over, quiet-spoken and
polite, while Sol is chunky, pear-shaped, and bald, the only sign of
hair his pencil-thin mustache. Sol is loud, brash, and as subtle as the
butcher block he used when he was still working. I hurry over, Evvie on
my heels, both of us thinking the same thing. Every Saturday morning we
take turns sitting with Millie while Irving plays a little pinochle.
And on Sunday afternoons in season, he and Sol go to Hialeah.
    "I still like the six horse in the double," Sol says.
    "Valenzuela's riding," cautions Irving.
    "So, he's on a losing streak," Sol comments. "Maybe his
winning streak will come back tomorrow."
    "Who's with Millie?" I ask. "You didn't leave her alone?"
    Irving's hands go up as if warding off any other words.
His thumb motions toward the door. "Sleeping."
    I smile. Irving, the ultimate cheapskate with words.
    Many years ago, I once asked Irving why he didn't take a
vacation in Europe. He could always go back to Poland and visit the
place he was born. This was at a time all of us were still doing a lot
of traveling. His answer to me was, "I been." And that was that. End of
discussion. Short and sweet. Millie told us she thought the real reason
Irving never went back is that he ran from the draft and was afraid the
Poles were still looking for him.
    "How are you, Evvie?" Sol asks, staring at her bosom. Sol
has the habit of never looking any woman in the eye. Somehow he never
gets past their breasts.
    "I'm up here, Sol," Evvie says, pointing to her face.
    Sol, startled, drags his eyes away and looks up into
Evvie's eyes. She barely hides her irritation. "We are what our minds
are, Mr. Sol Spankowitz. Our bodies are merely the vessels that carry
our heads."
    Sol doesn't understand a word she says, but he manages a
brief, "Uh-huh."
    Irving taps his watch, then nods at Evvie and me. "By
eleven?"
    "Have a nice card game," Evvie says.
    They walk away, heading toward the clubhouse, with Sol
still scanning the sports page. "What should we do in the trifecta,
Irv?"
    "Wheel the three horse," answers the expert.
    I poke Evvie in the shoulder. "You've got a potential
suitor there, sister. He's hot to trot."
    "Let him trot down at the track. I'm not interested."
    "Well. He
is
available. Not too many of those
left."
    "Big deal. He was a lech even when Clara was alive."
    I always tease Evvie about Sol, but somehow my heart
isn't quite in it today. "Well, he's good for a nice dinner now and
then."
    "I can buy my own dinners, thank you. Besides, I still
have dear old Joe hanging around, now that the broad