Read Online Getting Old Is Criminal by Rita Lakin - Free Book Online
Authors: Rita Lakin
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Women Detectives, Florida, Gold; Gladdy (Fictitious Character), Older People, Fort Lauderdale (Fla.), Retirees
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hour back.” Sophie brushes crumbs into the napkin in her hand. “It’s not like it’s around the corner.”
“And it won’t be so easy to get in.” Evvie is in charge of the cups and saucers. “All those retirement places are enclosed and have very tight security. I can’t see us just waltzing in and out. I agree we need a different approach.”
7 4 • R i t a L a k i n
“I will just have to move into Wilmington House,” I boldly declare.
My statement is met by silence.
Sophie recovers quickly. “Just you?”
Ida picks up on that. “You’ll need help.”
Bella next. “Four eyes are better than two.”
For a moment they are quiet again, absorbing this. Then Bella’s, Sophie’s, and Ida’s hands shoot up. And in unison they say, “Me, pick me.”
Evvie simply stares at them, eyes narrowing.
“First things first,” I say, realizing I am now about to get into deep water. I ignore the raised hands and keep going. “I need to make an appointment with the manager at Wilmington House. I’ll have to make a strong pitch for letting me move in temporarily.”
“Oh, no,” Evvie says with consternation, thinking back to the relatively polished attire we wore for our first visit to Grecian Villas, “my clothes aren’t fancy enough for Palm Beach. I’ll have to go shopping.”
“Wait just one minute,” Ida says. “Who voted you in?”
“Yeah,” says Bella, folding her arms across her chest. “I could go. I have no pressing engage-ments.”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Sophie finishes the round. The chorus has spoken.
Evvie turns to me. “Of course I’m going with you, Glad, isn’t that so?”
Oh, boy, this is some pickle. I feel my sister G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 7 5
Evvie is the right choice for me. We’ve had a life-time of thinking alike and working so well together, but I look at those three pairs of sad eyes accusing me, correctly, of favoritism. This is a nowin situation. “Let me think about it,” says the coward.
Ida stomps toward the door. “Don’t bother. We know who you’ll choose, so just do it and get done with it.”
The others follow her.
There is a decided chill in the air. But Evvie is grinning.
And I feel rotten.
ELEVEN
WHERE IS JACK?
Dora Dooley is where she usually is, planted in front of her TV, which is so close to her she can almost touch it. She got up to let me in, then hurried back to her recliner, where she now sits watching her show avidly and ignoring me.
It is very hot and stuffy in here. Dora is wearing lime green pedal pushers and a matching sweater with a long-sleeved cardigan over it. She’s already informed me she doesn’t like air conditioning and she won’t open windows for fear of a draft. I fan myself as best I can in this stifling room. I intend to get out quickly. Not only because of the heat, but because I’m dying to see Jack.
“So can you tell me a little more about the Peeping Tom the other night?” I say as loudly as I can.
G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 7 7
“Shah,” Dora says. “Wait for the commercial.”
I assume she’s hard of hearing since the sound is turned up very high.
I sit and stew, fanning hard, as she watches a torrid love scene. The way I’m feeling, that’s the last kind of thing I need to be looking at—all I’m aware of is that Jack lives right above this apartment. From what I can gather, the characters on her soap opera are both married to other people and feeling terribly guilty. However, it doesn’t seem to interfere with their lust.
Finally the commercials arrive, and the volume rises even higher. One of my pet peeves is that the advertisers do that on purpose.
Dora cackles. “Won’t take long until Penelope finds out her husband, Percy, is boffing her best friend, Elizabeth.”
I nod obediently.
She cups her left ear at me and shouts, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Gladdy Gold, Phase Two. We’re trying to find the man who
“And it won’t be so easy to get in.” Evvie is in charge of the cups and saucers. “All those retirement places are enclosed and have very tight security. I can’t see us just waltzing in and out. I agree we need a different approach.”
7 4 • R i t a L a k i n
“I will just have to move into Wilmington House,” I boldly declare.
My statement is met by silence.
Sophie recovers quickly. “Just you?”
Ida picks up on that. “You’ll need help.”
Bella next. “Four eyes are better than two.”
For a moment they are quiet again, absorbing this. Then Bella’s, Sophie’s, and Ida’s hands shoot up. And in unison they say, “Me, pick me.”
Evvie simply stares at them, eyes narrowing.
“First things first,” I say, realizing I am now about to get into deep water. I ignore the raised hands and keep going. “I need to make an appointment with the manager at Wilmington House. I’ll have to make a strong pitch for letting me move in temporarily.”
“Oh, no,” Evvie says with consternation, thinking back to the relatively polished attire we wore for our first visit to Grecian Villas, “my clothes aren’t fancy enough for Palm Beach. I’ll have to go shopping.”
“Wait just one minute,” Ida says. “Who voted you in?”
“Yeah,” says Bella, folding her arms across her chest. “I could go. I have no pressing engage-ments.”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Sophie finishes the round. The chorus has spoken.
Evvie turns to me. “Of course I’m going with you, Glad, isn’t that so?”
Oh, boy, this is some pickle. I feel my sister G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 7 5
Evvie is the right choice for me. We’ve had a life-time of thinking alike and working so well together, but I look at those three pairs of sad eyes accusing me, correctly, of favoritism. This is a nowin situation. “Let me think about it,” says the coward.
Ida stomps toward the door. “Don’t bother. We know who you’ll choose, so just do it and get done with it.”
The others follow her.
There is a decided chill in the air. But Evvie is grinning.
And I feel rotten.
ELEVEN
WHERE IS JACK?
Dora Dooley is where she usually is, planted in front of her TV, which is so close to her she can almost touch it. She got up to let me in, then hurried back to her recliner, where she now sits watching her show avidly and ignoring me.
It is very hot and stuffy in here. Dora is wearing lime green pedal pushers and a matching sweater with a long-sleeved cardigan over it. She’s already informed me she doesn’t like air conditioning and she won’t open windows for fear of a draft. I fan myself as best I can in this stifling room. I intend to get out quickly. Not only because of the heat, but because I’m dying to see Jack.
“So can you tell me a little more about the Peeping Tom the other night?” I say as loudly as I can.
G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 7 7
“Shah,” Dora says. “Wait for the commercial.”
I assume she’s hard of hearing since the sound is turned up very high.
I sit and stew, fanning hard, as she watches a torrid love scene. The way I’m feeling, that’s the last kind of thing I need to be looking at—all I’m aware of is that Jack lives right above this apartment. From what I can gather, the characters on her soap opera are both married to other people and feeling terribly guilty. However, it doesn’t seem to interfere with their lust.
Finally the commercials arrive, and the volume rises even higher. One of my pet peeves is that the advertisers do that on purpose.
Dora cackles. “Won’t take long until Penelope finds out her husband, Percy, is boffing her best friend, Elizabeth.”
I nod obediently.
She cups her left ear at me and shouts, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Gladdy Gold, Phase Two. We’re trying to find the man who
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