Read Online Rita Lakin_Gladdy Gold_01 by Getting Old Is Murder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Getting Old Is Murder
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anybody where we went after Francie's funeral.
I had to think of something to save this god-awful day.
And knowing Francie, if she could have whispered anything at all to me,
she would have said, "
Carpe Diem,
babe--seize the day. What the
hell--PLAY BINGO!"
----
14
Murder Will Out
T he quiet is deafening, if that makes any sense. Since
Francie's funeral last week, a pall has fallen over Lanai Gardens. Our
friends and neighbors go about their day's activities very quietly.
When people speak, they speak in whispers. There are none of the usual
complaints about the weather. Francie made a difference in our lives
and her loss is beyond measure. And maybe because it is Francie, we
think about our own mortality. Especially we who live by ourselves. It
brings an icy feeling to the back of the neck to think about dying all
alone.
Francie's family went back to New Jersey
after Evvie and I offered to take care of disposing of the rest of her
things. Their instructions were: Take something to remember her by, and
give everything else to charity.
Now Evvie and I are in Francie's apartment
early in the morning. The first twenty minutes, we do nothing but just
sit here and think of Francie in this place she loved. Her apartment
reflects the bright and cheerful person she was. Her fabric colors are
lemon, coral, and avocado green; her furniture style, light and airy
wicker.
"Let's do the bedroom first," I say, to
make a start. As we get up, Sophie flings open the front door and
hurries in.
"Your coffee and bagels," she announces.
"Thanks, Soph," Evvie says. "Just leave
them on the sink."
We start working on the closets, but are
aware that Sophie hasn't left. We hear her clattering about.
"What are you doing, Soph?" I call out.
"You work, don't worry about me. I'll just
kibitz."
Evvie and I exchange glances. Does that
mean she plans to keep talking and drive us crazy?
We box Francie's clothes, and what a
painful task it is. Remembering when she wore what. Remembering her
laughter. And how she made everything fun.
Sophie's head pops into the doorway. "She
did have aspirin," she says as if continuing some earlier discussion.
"Why?" asks Evvie. "Do you have a headache?"
"I read somewhere that if you're having a
heart attack, someone should give you an aspirin. It could have saved
Francie." She looks at us, eager to share her knowledge.
Exasperated, Evvie says, "But she was
alone,
Sophie."
"Well, maybe we should all carry aspirin
all over our bodies from now on." She waits for a response.
"Thank you for sharing that. Don't you have
someplace to go?"
"Not 'til two when we play cards." She
disappears back into the kitchen-living room area.
Evvie holds up a beautiful peach organza
cocktail gown. "Remember?" she asks.
"Jerry and Ilene's wedding."
Evvie nods and folds it away carefully. She
opens the next drawer. "Oh," she cries out.
"What?" I pull my head out of the closet.
Evvie is holding up Francie's favorite
sweatshirt, the one that says "Death by Chocolate." "She loved this
crazy shirt." With that she starts to cry.
"We can't keep doing this. We'll never get
done," I say as gently as I can.
"That's just it! I don't ever want to get
done, because that will be the last we have of her."
We hear more noise from the kitchen. Sophie
calls out, "You know how neat and clean she was. If Francie could see
the crumbs in her sink, she'd die!"
"I'm going to wring her neck," Evvie says
through gritted teeth.
I laugh. Everyone should have some comic
relief in their lives. "Just leave it, Soph, we'll get someone in to
clean."
The doorbell rings. "I'll get it," Sophie
calls. As she opens the door, we hear her voice turn all sugary. "Well,
hello there. Please do come in."
"Bet you five dollars." Evvie smirks.
"No bet. It can only be--" I call out, "Is
that you, Mr. Slezak?"
Evvie and I return to the living room and
there he is--gold chains gleaming.
"Good morning, beautiful ladies," he says,
saluting us with his dirty white
I had to think of something to save this god-awful day.
And knowing Francie, if she could have whispered anything at all to me,
she would have said, "
Carpe Diem,
babe--seize the day. What the
hell--PLAY BINGO!"
----
14
Murder Will Out
T he quiet is deafening, if that makes any sense. Since
Francie's funeral last week, a pall has fallen over Lanai Gardens. Our
friends and neighbors go about their day's activities very quietly.
When people speak, they speak in whispers. There are none of the usual
complaints about the weather. Francie made a difference in our lives
and her loss is beyond measure. And maybe because it is Francie, we
think about our own mortality. Especially we who live by ourselves. It
brings an icy feeling to the back of the neck to think about dying all
alone.
Francie's family went back to New Jersey
after Evvie and I offered to take care of disposing of the rest of her
things. Their instructions were: Take something to remember her by, and
give everything else to charity.
Now Evvie and I are in Francie's apartment
early in the morning. The first twenty minutes, we do nothing but just
sit here and think of Francie in this place she loved. Her apartment
reflects the bright and cheerful person she was. Her fabric colors are
lemon, coral, and avocado green; her furniture style, light and airy
wicker.
"Let's do the bedroom first," I say, to
make a start. As we get up, Sophie flings open the front door and
hurries in.
"Your coffee and bagels," she announces.
"Thanks, Soph," Evvie says. "Just leave
them on the sink."
We start working on the closets, but are
aware that Sophie hasn't left. We hear her clattering about.
"What are you doing, Soph?" I call out.
"You work, don't worry about me. I'll just
kibitz."
Evvie and I exchange glances. Does that
mean she plans to keep talking and drive us crazy?
We box Francie's clothes, and what a
painful task it is. Remembering when she wore what. Remembering her
laughter. And how she made everything fun.
Sophie's head pops into the doorway. "She
did have aspirin," she says as if continuing some earlier discussion.
"Why?" asks Evvie. "Do you have a headache?"
"I read somewhere that if you're having a
heart attack, someone should give you an aspirin. It could have saved
Francie." She looks at us, eager to share her knowledge.
Exasperated, Evvie says, "But she was
alone,
Sophie."
"Well, maybe we should all carry aspirin
all over our bodies from now on." She waits for a response.
"Thank you for sharing that. Don't you have
someplace to go?"
"Not 'til two when we play cards." She
disappears back into the kitchen-living room area.
Evvie holds up a beautiful peach organza
cocktail gown. "Remember?" she asks.
"Jerry and Ilene's wedding."
Evvie nods and folds it away carefully. She
opens the next drawer. "Oh," she cries out.
"What?" I pull my head out of the closet.
Evvie is holding up Francie's favorite
sweatshirt, the one that says "Death by Chocolate." "She loved this
crazy shirt." With that she starts to cry.
"We can't keep doing this. We'll never get
done," I say as gently as I can.
"That's just it! I don't ever want to get
done, because that will be the last we have of her."
We hear more noise from the kitchen. Sophie
calls out, "You know how neat and clean she was. If Francie could see
the crumbs in her sink, she'd die!"
"I'm going to wring her neck," Evvie says
through gritted teeth.
I laugh. Everyone should have some comic
relief in their lives. "Just leave it, Soph, we'll get someone in to
clean."
The doorbell rings. "I'll get it," Sophie
calls. As she opens the door, we hear her voice turn all sugary. "Well,
hello there. Please do come in."
"Bet you five dollars." Evvie smirks.
"No bet. It can only be--" I call out, "Is
that you, Mr. Slezak?"
Evvie and I return to the living room and
there he is--gold chains gleaming.
"Good morning, beautiful ladies," he says,
saluting us with his dirty white
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