Getting Old Is Criminal Part 27

Barbi speaks. "You tell us he met Esther at the beginning of May and she died at the end of July."

"You aren't saying . . . ?" Ida looks stricken.

"How do you feel about coincidences?" Casey grins. "Any bets on his having done it the same way the previous time as well?"

Sophie and Bella shake their heads vigorously.

Casey's back at the computer. "Okay. Point one. Esther Ferguson died July twenty-seventh. Give or take a day for funeral arrangements and goodbyes."

"Right on schedule." This from Barbi.

"Well, we know two things about this man already. He is compulsive about keeping to a schedule. And he plans everything in advance.

"But what's he really up to?" I wonder.

"Up to no good, I would guess." Casey leans back on her desk chair, relaxing. "Interesting case you guys have."

"Okay. What about Seaside Cliffs?"

"All we know is he had a lady friend named

Elsie Rogers. When she died of natural causes, he moved again."

"Any bets on the dates?" Barbi asks sarcastically. Barbi slides back to her desk and types once more. After a few moments she turns. "He met Elsie in January. She died at the end of March. He left right afterward, and one might guess, crying crocodile tears. Off on another month's vacation. A mourning period, hey? This man is some piece of work. Let's go back even further. Let's try last year."

Again the typing. Casey reports. "Roman Villas, Tallaha.s.see. September, October, November, last year. And again December off for good behavior. Hmm. n.o.body died. He had an affair with a Pearl Mosher, but that's all it says."

Ida is perturbed. "How can your machines tell you that?"

Barbi answers for her. They like to take turns. "If it's in writing somewhere, we can pick it up. The retirement communities have in-house newspapers. Just check the gossip columns."

Now Casey again. "Before that, Savannah, Georgia, then Macon, Georgia. Our boy has been moving his way down south."

"And no doubt the same pattern," says Barbi. "Wonder why n.o.body ever checked all the other retirement communities before they let him in?"

I stare at the sheet of paper in my hand, more and more worried. "Because, as I've said, he's charming, and because he had the money to get in. As long as he had no police record, why not take him in? He always gets great recommendations from the previous facility. After all, they describe him as a 'saint.' "

Casey asks, "In Wilmington House, has he picked a new lady friend yet?"

I say, choking on it, "Yes, he has."

"Anyone wanna place bets that he'll be out of there by November thirtieth?" says Barbi to Casey. They laugh.

I shudder. Will it be Evvie who dies of an "accident" before the end of November? Ida is thinking the same thing. She looks at me, eyes wide in fright. But then, it's still early September, I think; she's still safe. They only just met.

"Wow!" All this time Barbi continues typing. She turns and faces us. "Wow!"

"What?" Casey says, "Spit it out."

"He's followed exactly the same pattern for ten years previously, plus this year, making it eleven. And . . ."

We all react nervously to her excitement. "And what?" I ask.

Barbi looks at us with an expression of disbelief on her face. "Before that, there is no residence for a Philip Smythe. As far as I can tell-there is no record anywhere of this man named Philip Smythe."

FORTY.

TEARS IN THE GARDEN.

It was one of those days when wise people

stayed indoors. Seniors especially didn't dare venture out. The heat in Tallaha.s.see was oppressive, the humidity breaking records. But for the venture out. The heat in Tallaha.s.see was oppressive, the humidity breaking records. But for the Cuban laborers excavating dirt for the new swimming pool, the weather didn't matter; a job was a Cuban laborers excavating dirt for the new swimming pool, the weather didn't matter; a job was a job. Roman Villas, a sister to the more southern job. Roman Villas, a sister to the more southern Grecian Villas, was putting in a lap pool. Their Grecian Villas, was putting in a lap pool. Their gardens, which lay at the extreme border of their gardens, which lay at the extreme border of their property, were considered a waste. n.o.body bothered to walk that far just to smell the flowers. And property, were considered a waste. n.o.body bothered to walk that far just to smell the flowers. And over the years their questionnaire asking "What over the years their questionnaire asking "What would you like added" yielded many requests for a would you like added" yielded many requests for a lap pool. Business was good; Roman Villas could lap pool. Business was good; Roman Villas could use the tax break. Thus the new pool. use the tax break. Thus the new pool.

The laborers dug. Beautiful flower beds were being transferred by wheelbarrows to other areas. The clods of dirt spewed dust into the workers' The clods of dirt spewed dust into the workers' nostrils. nostrils.

Pedro Reyes angled his shovel deeper down below the hydrangeas he had just lifted out. The shovel was stopped by something odd. Surprised, shovel was stopped by something odd. Surprised, he bent down to check it out. His shovel had hit he bent down to check it out. His shovel had hit plastic sheeting. His eyes suddenly met other eyes, plastic sheeting. His eyes suddenly met other eyes, Dead eyes. Attached to a body. A dead body, seeming to stare accusingly at him through the plastic Dead eyes. Attached to a body. A dead body, seeming to stare accusingly at him through the plastic covering. Pedro jumped up and gasped, his shovel covering. Pedro jumped up and gasped, his shovel flying through the air. "Madre mia, es muerto!" flying through the air. "Madre mia, es muerto!" He moved hurriedly from the offending sight and He moved hurriedly from the offending sight and crossed himself. crossed himself.

Immediately the other workers ran to see for themselves. Ninety-year-old Pearl Mosher, who themselves. Ninety-year-old Pearl Mosher, who had been a chaste woman all her life, was now had been a chaste woman all her life, was now stared at by workers horrified at seeing what was stared at by workers horrified at seeing what was left of her dead, naked body. left of her dead, naked body.

FORTY-ONE.

AT THE MOVIES.

They sit in the last row of the theater so they

won't disturb anyone else-or be seen, for that matter. They eat popcorn sloppily and whisper and giggle and kiss and touch each other playfully. that matter. They eat popcorn sloppily and whisper and giggle and kiss and touch each other playfully.

"We're behaving like teenagers." Evvie feeds Philip a handful of popcorn. She has never had so Philip a handful of popcorn. She has never had so much fun with a man before, she thinks. Every day much fun with a man before, she thinks. Every day she falls more in love with him. she falls more in love with him.

"Did you ever behave like this as a teenager?"

"No."

"Well, it's about time."

"We should be ashamed of ourselves."

He nuzzles her neck. "No, we shouldn't. We're making up for all we missed in the past, and besides, we're more fun than the movie." making up for all we missed in the past, and besides, we're more fun than the movie."

They are watching a romantic French cla.s.sic, Belle de Jour. Belle de Jour.

She pushes him playfully. "Stop it. I can't read the subt.i.tles." the subt.i.tles."

He nuzzles her again. "You want to know what they're saying? they're saying? Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime." Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime." Each word punctuated with a tiny kiss. Each word punctuated with a tiny kiss.

The "client" in the brothel on screen puts his hand on Catherine Deneuve's breast. Philip does hand on Catherine Deneuve's breast. Philip does the same to Evvie. the same to Evvie.

She smacks his hand. "You're shameless."

"I'm only following the plot, step by step."

"You are so naughty." Evvie looks around, wor ried someone is watching them, but it's the late ried someone is watching them, but it's the late show and few people are in the audience. She even show and few people are in the audience. She even hears snoring wafting from somewhere down hears snoring wafting from somewhere down below. below.

"Okay," she says. "Pay attention. I've got one. A Kiss Before Dying. A Kiss Before Dying. Author?" Author?"

"Ira Levin, from his novel of the same name."

"Actress? The original, not the remake."

"Joanne Woodward."

"Leading man?"

Philip hesitates. "You got me. I forgot."

"Robert Wagner. I win."