Bingoed (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

“Does age poison us, or do we poison age?”

—Astrid Alauda

If Sue Barber had tried to kill her at the Reardon Botanical Gardens, reasoned Essie, she probably wouldn’t give up, just because her first attempt had failed. Essie figured she’d probably be safe during the day when she was around other residents. Sue wouldn’t be likely to try something in front of witnesses. No, thought Essie, the dangerous time would be at night when she was asleep. She didn’t lock her front door—no one did because aides and staff members had to be able to get into apartments to assist residents who might need help. Locked doors just slowed them down and increased the chances that falls and sudden illnesses could not be dealt with in a timely fashion.

But, now after the episode in the gardens with the large branch, she worried that as soon as she fell asleep, Sue Barber would sneak into her room and finish her off. It would be easy to do and probably no one would be the wiser. Sue would just probably wait until late and then come into Essie’s bedroom and smother her with a pillow.

Wait a minute, Essie told herself. If it was so easy to murder a resident in their room, why hadn’t Sue just done that to Bob Weiderley? Why go through all the rigmarole of killing him with a poisoned dollar bill at Bingo? It seemed excessively convoluted. It wasn’t as if Bob could fight her off if she decided to strangle him in his bed. And why would Sue want to kill Bob anyway? Or her?

It was now late afternoon and Essie was doing her contemplating in her comfortable arm chair in her living room. Marjorie and Opal had returned to their rooms too. All three women were exhausted—not only from the hiking and walking they’d done at the botanical gardens, but from the excitement and fear they had experienced with Essie’s close call with the branch—and ultimately their suspicion that Sue Barber had caused the debacle.

Essie picked up her clipboard from her end table and aimlessly began filling in boxes in her crossword puzzle of the day. The definition for fourteen across was “hired killer.” So much for helping get my mind off my problems, she thought as she wrote in “assassin” in the spaces.

There was a knock at her door. Essie almost jumped out of her chair she was so on edge. Surely, it wasn’t Sue Barber come round to finish the job. She wouldn’t risk it right in the middle of the afternoon with so many residents walking around.

“Who’s there?” she called out, moving as quickly as possible from her chair and grabbing a large serving spoon from the top drawer in her kitchen nook. She clung to the front door knob when there was no answer.

“Who’s there?” she called out again through the crack between the door and the door frame. No response. Now, this is ridiculous. A murderer doesn’t knock on the door and then say nothing. Slowly she turned the knob and ever so cautiously peeked around the corner.

“Stars’ bars!” she exclaimed. “Fay, what are you doing here?” Sweet, plump and generally silent Fay sat in her wheelchair in the hallway, her hands folded discreetly in her lap and resting on a pile of papers. Fay smiled at Essie.

“I didn’t even know that you knew which room I was in,” said Essie. “Do you want to come in?” she asked her quiet, sleepy tablemate. Fay said nothing but handed Essie the pile of papers in her lap. Essie glanced down and noticed that she was looking at more print-outs from the family room computer—possibly a good thirty or forty pages.

“What’s all this?” asked Essie.

“Poison,” said Fay succinctly. Then wheeling herself around, she headed back down the hallway.

“Thank you, Fay,” yelled Essie after her. Essie shut her door, stopping only to ponder whether or not it might be possible to devise some sort of lock for her front door that would prevent Sue Barber from entering but not to prevent her aides from entering should she need their help in the middle of the night. There didn’t seem to be any way.

She rolled herself back to her chair, parked her walker, and plopped back down so she could examine the material that Fay had brought her. Quickly, she thumbed through the stack. There were sections from encyclopedias and medical reference books. There were what appeared to be question and answer sites for patients to ask doctors questions about their symptoms. There were photographs. There were quotations from quite a number of murder mysteries by different authors. Fay had evidently gone through some of the material and marked certain lines and paragraphs with a pen. My goodness, thought Essie, that sweet lady that we always consider only about half there most of the time, seems to have the research skills of a trained librarian. Essie couldn’t remember what Fay had done before she retired, but surely it must have been something that involved searching for information because it was quite evident that she was very good at it.

Now, the question was whether or not all of this information would be of any help in trying to determine if Sue Barber or someone else poisoned Bob Weiderley. Evelyn Cudahy (or rather Evelyn Weiderley) had told her that the doctors had found some strange substance in Bob’s bloodstream and Essie suspected that that substance was poison. Essie plumped the pages together neatly into their original order. Starting with the first page, she began to read. The first sections concerned poisons in general—what technically constituted a poison from a medical and a legal standpoint. There were categories for different types of poisons. One category system of great interest to her was based on how a poison is delivered into the body. Obviously, the most commonly used method in most murder mysteries was by mouth. However, poisons could also be absorbed, she read, by inhalation and through the skin.

She thought about the dollar bill she had found in Sue Barber’s purse. It was in a plastic bag. Why? Was it because it was drenched in poison and Sue Barber wanted to avoid contact with it or prevent anyone else from having contact with it? If that was the case, she wondered, why didn’t Sue just get rid of it? She could cut it up—no, it would still be poisonous whether or not it was in small pieces. What if she burned it in a fire? Would the fumes be poisonous? She didn’t know. And if that dollar was poisonous, how did Sue hand it to Bob for the Bingo prize (which she did) without herself getting poisoned? Did she protect herself in some way? Was it because she was younger and stronger than Bob? That sounded a little risky to Essie. She surely wouldn’t risk poisoning someone by handing them some poisoned substance and just hope it didn’t poison her too.

She continued reading. There was information on poison strength. Some poisons were lethal in extremely small amounts—others required that larger quantities be consumed or ingested in some way before they became toxic. Some poisons acted immediately; others took quite some time to take effect. Some poisons were cumulative; others were not. That is, one type of poison would be secreted from the body quickly so that a second dose would be no more lethal than the first. A second type of poison might remain in the body for a long time so that a second dose would combine with that already present and form a lethal combination.

After she completed reading the entire stack of information—at least a quick reading, if not a thorough one—she felt that she understood HOW Sue Barber might have poisoned Bob Weiderley and possibly with what type of poison. What she didn’t know was WHY. The same held true for Violet Hendrickson. It was possible that Violet had been able to devise some sort of poison delivery system to dose Bob, but less likely. Violet, however, as Essie saw it, had a possible motive. Bob was apparently aware of her criminal record (if the newspaper clipping she’d found under the desk blotter in his apartment was any indication) and Violet was the Director of Happy Haven which would benefit greatly in a financial sense if Bob died (at least if he died before he changed his will to leave his wealth to his new wife Evelyn). But Bob and Sue had no adversarial relationship. Why would Sue want to poison Bob? Sue didn’t benefit from Bob’s death, not that Essie could see anyway. There was Sue and there was Violet—one with motive and no means, and the other with means and no motive.

Essie thought and thought about the two women—the Director of Happy Haven and the Social Director. Violet was Sue’s immediate superior. Surely, thought Essie, it can’t be that Violet ordered Sue to kill Bob Weiderley? That just seemed too gruesome. But how was it any more gruesome than either of them deciding to kill the poor old gentleman all alone?

The two women obviously worked closely together. Their offices were side by side. Maybe they planned the murder together. Maybe they were like a team working together to wipe out old people wherever they could—especially old men who had left all of their money to the place where the two women worked.

“Residents,” announced Phyllis on the intercom, “dinner is served. Time for those of you scheduled for first sitting to come get in line. The chef tells us that the pork chops are especially divine tonight!”

“Great!” said Essie. She gathered the papers and placed them on her end table, leaving the unread pages on top and at a right angle to the read pages. Then after her usual quick trip to the bathroom to straighten her hair and ‘other things’ she pushed her walker out into the hallway (checking both directions to make sure Sue Barber wasn’t lying in wait for her as she exited) and headed off to the divine pork chops in the dining room.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“The age of a woman doesn’t mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.”

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

In the middle of their divine pork chops, the women considered their exploits that afternoon in the botanical gardens. They were still frightened and worried about Essie’s near brush with death. Just how, they wondered, did that large branch barely miss her? They told Fay about their adventures but Fay seemed oblivious to their tale. Essie wondered.

“Fay found quite a bit of interesting information about poison,” she whispered to Opal and Marjorie. Marjorie took a more scrutinizing look at her pork chop and Opal pushed her plate away.

“Essie,” chided Opal, “you really know how to kill a person’s appetite. Do we have to discuss poison at the dinner table?”

“I just thought you’d like to know about all the research Fay did while we were out gallivanting around in Mother Nature.”

“You mean while you were out getting practically smashed by a huge tree limb!” exclaimed Marjorie. Fay remained unmoved as she continued to nibble on her divine chop.

“Keep your voice down,” hushed Essie. “Sue and Violet are still in the dining room. They might overhear us.”

“They’re all the way over by the window,” noted Opal. “They don’t have super hearing.”

“You know,” suggested Essie, looking back and forth from one friend to another, “if Sue and Violet are here eating dinner, you know what that means?”

“That they’re not poisoning anyone?” asked Opal with a sneer.

“No!” said Essie with a curt nod to Opal. “It means they’re not in their offices.”

“So?” said Marjorie, tentatively returning to her pork chop.

“I’m thinking,” said Essie, “that maybe we could slip out before they leave here, and just happen by their offices.”

“Why?” asked Marjorie.

“Maybe we could find a clue,” said Essie with a sway of her shoulders.

“Such as what?” asked Opal. “An incriminating giant box of poison?”

Santos, who was working the dinner shift tonight in addition to his regular day shift, arrived with the desserts the women had ordered and proceeded to exchange their entree plates for the smaller dessert bowls.

“Cobbler!” screamed Marjorie. “My favorite!”

“Be careful. It might be poisoned!” said Opal.

“Oh, Miss Opal!” gasped Santos. “Never would Santos serve a dessert that would harm his favorite ladies in any way.”

“No, Santos,” said Essie, patting the arm of the young waiter, “Opal and Marjorie are just having a disagreement over a . . . movie they saw. One of the characters was poisoned and they thought it was delivered in his food . . .”

“But it was in his clothing, right?” offered Santos, “I see that movie, I think, Miss Essie. Very clever.” He continued passing the cobblers around the table.

“How did they get poison in his clothing?” asked Essie.

“I think they poured it in washer and then washed his pajamas in it. It was safe when someone just touch the pajamas, but when man wear pajamas all night— all over his body—poison rub off during night into his skin,” explained Santos as he completed his task, and wiping off a small amount of spilled tea in front of Fay’s place, he headed back to the kitchen.

“What do you think of that?” asked Essie.

“You mean, did someone wash Bob’s pajamas in poison?” asked Opal. “Who would do that? Other than his cleaning woman? And why would she?”

Or, thought Essie, maybe his wife. Someone who would know for certain what pajamas he wore—or that he wore pajamas. Oh my, the plot is just too thick. Her head was spinning.

“So,” said Essie finally, “are we going to do it?”

“Do what?” asked Marjorie.

“Look for clues in the . . . offices,” replied Essie.

“Oh, will this ever end?” whined Opal, hand to her head. “Oh, all right! Let’s go!” The four women rose, grabbed their walkers, and filed out of the dining hall.

“Fay,” said Essie to her wheelchair-bound friend, “you’d better wait here in the lobby—or work at the computers if you like.”

Fay smiled sweetly and rolled off into the family room. The remaining women rolled their walkers to the right and around the corner that led to the office wing. As they headed down the carpeted hallway, they noticed that most of the glass-enclosed offices along the left-side of the hallway were deserted. Most of the various directors of Happy Haven had probably left for the evening. Only those individuals such as Sue Barber who worked directly with residents would be likely to remain into the evenings. The financial director and publicity director and whatever other directors worked here (Essie really didn’t know because most of these people she didn’t know) probably kept bankers’ hours.

“Where do we start?” asked Opal as the threesome halted midway down the hallway.

“I want to check out Sue’s office to see if she has any poison hidden anywhere,” said Essie. She rolled her walker into the office with Sue’s nameplate on the glass door. “Opal, you know your job.”

“I know,” said Opal. “Lookout.” Opal rolled her walker back around and headed down to the entrance to the office wing from the lobby. Essie rolled into Sue’s office as Marjorie remained at her door where she could see both Essie and Opal just in case Essie had to move out of the office quickly.

Essie scooted around to Sue’s small metal desk which was flush against a wall. Quickly she surveyed the items on top of the desk and nothing appeared unusual. She opened all of the drawers looking for a container of liquid or powder or something that might ostensibly be poison. The only thing incriminating she found was a bottle of nail polish. She probably didn’t poison Bob with this, thought Essie.

Leaving Sue Barber’s desk, Essie moved around the small room. There were several comfortable chairs and a long table against the other wall. On this table were various games, sporting equipment, assorted prizes for contests, and other paraphernalia. Under the table were stacked five or six boxes. She opened one and discovered costumes that Sue evidently intended to use or had used for a Halloween party.

Then Essie checked inside a small closet near Sue’s office door. Here she found a jacket and on the floor a pair of overshoes. On the shelf above she found cleaning supplies—paper towels, rubber gloves, a bottle of cleaning spray, and a box of sponges. Apparently, if Sue had squirreled away any poison she used on Bob Weiderley, she wasn’t keeping it in her office.

Essie rolled out of Sue’s office with a glance at Marjorie. Marjorie nodded and indicated that Opal was at the entrance to the office wing and so far no one was coming. Essie moved on down the hallway to Violet’s office. This too, like Sue’s office, was unlocked. Essie opened the door and wheeled herself inside. Marjorie nodded at her and continued to keep her eye on Opal at the far end of the hallway.

Violet’s office was much more daunting to explore than Sue’s. Violet had been at Happy Haven longer and obviously she had accumulated much more stuff. Violet’s desk sat facing the doorway with her back to the window on the opposite side. Her desk was larger than Sue’s and was covered with more papers and files. Essie glanced around at the material on the desk but didn’t see anything obviously incriminating. She opened all of the drawers where she found a multitude of hanging files meticulously catalogued and labeled. Along the right wall, five filing cabinets stood. Essie quickly opened all the drawers of all the cabinets. At the cabinet nearest the window, the lowest drawer would not open. Essie realized that this cabinet had a locking mechanism and that the bottom drawer was locked. Hmmm, she wondered. What was so important or secret that Violet had it locked up? She rolled back over to the desk and pulled out the center drawer which she had already searched. She remembered two small gold keys in this drawer but no indication on them as to what they were for. Grabbing both keys, she moved back to the filing cabinet near the window, bent down and slipped the little key into the cabinet lock. The key fit and turned and the lower cabinet drawer slid out with a few jerks.

Inside, Essie found virtually nothing. Nothing except a manila envelope lying on the bottom of the drawer. What? she wondered. She picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside, she found newspaper clippings—one that was quite familiar and several more that she hadn’t seen. All detailed the criminal records of different women over about a forty year period. One woman was named Vivian Hollingsworth, one Vivica Hempstead, and a third was Violet Hendrickson. It was this third clipping she had seen in Bob Weiderley’s apartment. The women in the other two articles also had DUI records just like Violet. The three women in the newspaper stories had even more in common than their criminal drinking behavior. From just a cursory glance at the accompanying photographs of the three, it was obvious that they were all Violet Hendrickson.

“Essie,” called out Marjorie, “Someone’s coming!”

Essie shoved the clippings back in the envelope, dropped the envelope back in the drawer, slammed the drawer shut, locked it, rumbled over to the desk and dropped the keys in. Then she quickly pushed her walker as fast as possible out through Violet’s office door and she and Marjorie headed down the hallway in the opposite direction from where Opal had just signaled them that someone was coming. They pulled around a corner near the end of the hallway which dead-ended at a closet door, just as Sue and Violet sauntered down the hallway laughing and chatting. They each entered their offices.

“Now what?” whispered Marjorie to Essie as they shivered behind the small nook at the end of the hallway. Essie peeked out. She could see Opal at the distant end. She motioned to her to come towards them. Opal cringed and shook her head. Essie continued to point, indicating Sue and Violet’s offices. Finally, when nothing seemed to be happening, Opal took a deep breath and stormed her walker down the hallway, stopping directly between Sue and Violet’s door. She started yelling.

“Help me, please! Help, Miss Violet! Miss Sue!” Opal carried on like crazy, screaming and calling for the two women. Violet and Sue came out of their offices and spoke to Opal. Essie and Marjorie could see them comforting her but they had no idea what crazy story Opal was feeding the two directors. After a few moments, Opal’s legs seemed to give way and Sue and Violet escorted her into Violet’s office where they all three disappeared. At that moment, Essie wheeled her walker down the hallway as fast as she could.

“Come on, Marjorie,” she whispered to her friend right behind her. As they closed in on Sue’s office they peeked through the glass wall where they saw Opal seated in one of Sue’s comfortable chairs and Sue and Violet kneeling before her. Opal noticed Essie and Marjorie pass by all the while she continued to moan about some mysterious ailment. When Essie and Marjorie arrived in the lobby, they checked first to make certain that their appearance from the office wing would not be noticed and then when it was clear, they rolled into the lobby and quickly took up positions on a lobby sofa that was positioned so that they could see anyone exiting the office wing.

In a few minutes, Opal appeared at the entrance to the office wing. Sue and Violet were on either side of her being very solicitous.

“No, no,” said Opal to Sue and Violet, “I’m really fine now. I don’t know what came over me. It must have been that cobbler. It just didn’t set right with me for some reason. I usually just love it! You don’t need to stay with me. I’m really just fine!” Opal smiled heroically at the two directors who retreated squeamishly back into the office wing. As soon as they were out of sight, Essie and Marjorie, bounded up from their seats and rolled quickly over to Opal.

“Opal,” said Essie, hugging her lanky friend with joy, ”You are my hero!”

“Mine too!” agreed Marjorie, giving Opal a super tight squeeze.

“It was nothing,” shrugged Opal, “just a little bit of light acting.”

They all laughed and headed off to the family room to find Fay.