Mrs. Kaplan and the Matzoh Ball of Death (4 page)

“So now you are accusing me of stealing Daisy's earrings?” cried Mrs. K. “I who never so much as stole a paper clip when I worked in an office? Who would not be caught dead (you will excuse the expression) in those dangly-schmangly earrings of Daisy's?” I had rarely heard Mrs. K raise her voice, but now it was several decibels above ladylike and rising.

Corcoran stepped in quickly to say, “No one is accusing you of anything, Mrs. Kaplan; I was just following the logic of the facts we have thus far discovered. Now, if you can fill in some of the facts we are still missing, I'm sure we can quickly straighten this out. To begin with, if you could tell us how you happened to be in possession of Mrs. Goldfarb's earring…”

“But I did not possess Daisy's earring,” protested Mrs. K, “so I cannot very well tell you how I got it.”

“You did make the dumpl…uh, the matzoh balls that were in the soup last night, did you not?” Corcoran persisted.

“Yes, of course, but—”

“And the soup?”

“Yes, and the soup, but—”

“And I am told by Mr. Pupik that you were the only one allowed in the kitchen while you were making them, is that right?”

“Yes, yes, but I did not have Daisy's earrings in the kitchen with me, so what does that prove?”

“Then do you have another explanation for how the earring ended up in the matzoh ball soup that you made in the kitchen all by yourself?”

Well, now, that was just what Mrs. K and I were trying to come up with the previous night. And of course we did not have much success.

“And how do you know those earrings were even stolen?” Mrs. K asked, changing the subject just enough to avoid answering Corcoran's question. “Daisy Goldfarb is a very nice person I'm sure, but she is well known to be absentminded and forgetful. She probably mislaid the earrings and when she could not find them, she thought they were stolen.”

Here Jenkins piped up for the first time: “We asked Mr. Pupik that already, and from what he told us this was clearly a case of theft.”

All eyes turned to Pupik, who suddenly looked uncomfortable, but he turned toward Mrs. K and said, “I also thought it was possible Mrs. Goldfarb had only misplaced the earrings. Such things happen all the time, of course, but then I spoke with Miss Zeiss, who as you know is Mrs. Goldfarb's personal caretaker. She told me that earlier in the day she was helping Mrs. Goldfarb try on some clothes for the evening
seder
. Mrs. Goldfarb tried on the earrings in question, but she decided not to wear them after all. According to Miss Zeiss, she laid them down on the small table near the door.”

“Not a very safe place for them,” Mrs. K said.

“No,” Pupik replied, “there I agree with you. I even remarked as much to Miss Zeiss, who was a bit embarrassed and admitted she had intended to remind Mrs. Goldfarb to put them away in a safer place, but apparently she had forgotten to do so. Nevertheless the earrings were still on the table when Miss Zeiss left for the day, about 2
P.M
. It is unlikely that between the time Miss Zeiss left and Mrs. Goldfarb went to the
seder,
Mrs. Goldfarb could have ‘misplaced' the earrings.”

“Did Daisy say she put the earrings away before she left for the
seder
?” Mrs. K asked.

Pupik looked at Corcoran as if to ask him whether he should answer or not, but Corcoran made no move to interrupt, so he turned back to Mrs. K and said, “I asked her that, and she says she doesn't remember. She may simply have forgotten about them being on the table.”

Corcoran had his mouth open as if to ask a question, but Mrs. K beat him to it.

“And did Daisy possibly pick them up and put them in her pocket, and end up walking out of the room with them when she went to the
seder
?” she asked. “Or did she leave the door wide open as I have often seen her do, so that any Tom, Dick, or Harvey could have taken them?”

“As you know, Mrs. Kaplan,” Pupik said in a huffy tone of voice, “we have little reason to lock doors here; apart from the occasional trinket or item of clothing reported missing, we have virtually no instances of theft at the Home. I have always prided myself on the feeling of security the residents under my charge can—”

This last was directed at Corcoran, who had to cut Pupik off at the pass before he began to list his Boy Scout merit badges and other such accomplish
ments.

“I'm sure you have a very secure establishment here,” said Corcoran, “but if you'll finish telling us about the earrings…”

Pupik looked like he would much rather continue his personal résumé, but he just said, “Well, that's about all, I guess.”

Just then the telephone rang, startling us all a bit. It was one of those loud, unpleasant electronic sounds—give me a good old-fashioned ring of the bell anytime. Anyway, Pupik reached across to his desk and answered it. After a few grunts and a wince, he put down the phone and said to us, “I'm afraid I shall have to leave for a few minutes.” To the two detectives he added, “It seems Mr. Plotnik has locked himself in the maintenance closet again and refuses to come out until I come and assure him he will not be given ‘solitary confinement' if he ‘surrenders.' It's a little quirk of his, nothing to worry about, a kind of game we play.” Only it didn't appear that Mr. Pupik enjoys playing this game. Or that he enjoys Mr. Plotnik, for that matter. Nevertheless, with a sigh he rose to leave.

“If you gentlemen would like to continue without me, please feel free to use my office,” he said. “I might be back shortly, but sometimes these things take a bit of time.”

“We understand,” said Corcoran, although I'm not so sure about the “we” part, because Mr. Jenkins did not look at all like he understood. “As a matter of fact, Jenkins and I have an appointment later this morning across town, so we probably should be going anyway. I think we can take this up in another day or so.” Then he turned to us and added, “Perhaps in the meantime Mrs. Kaplan—and you also, Mrs….”

“Berkowitz,” I told him. Such nice eyes he had.

“…Berkowitz, thank you. You both might give some thought to what we have discussed here, and it's possible by the time we next meet you will have remembered something that will help us to resolve this unfortunate matter.” He said it in such a nice way, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that he didn't mean it in a nice way at all, and what he really expected was for Mrs. K to think that she had been found out and to confess that she stole Daisy's earrings and caused Mrs. Finkelstein's death. And it gave me such a chill in my bones that even the nice cup of tea we had immediately after leaving Pupik's office couldn't take it away.

We did not talk about earrings or detectives or Mrs. Finkelstein the rest of the day. In fact, we avoided the subject entirely and tried to act as though nothing as strange and disturbing as this had happened.

So we were sitting in the lounge and sipping tea, and on the sofa next to us sat Mr. Sol Lipman. Sol, whom Mrs. K and I know quite well, is a man of about seventy-five years, short and stocky with short gray hair. For his age (which, after all, is about my age also) he is always looking very healthy, like an athlete who has kept himself in good condition. An attractive man, is Sol Lipman.

But that day he was not looking so healthy. In fact, he was looking as if he was in some distress, with his head in his hands, staring down at the carpet. Since there was nothing of particular interest to see in the carpet, this was not a good sign. Naturally Mrs. K and I noticed, and Mrs. K went over and sat down next to Sol. I slid over to listen. Mrs. K gently asked, “Is there something wrong, Sol?”

He looked up, and when he saw Mrs. K he straightened himself and tried to look normal. He said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you are looking like your pet dog has just been run over, and I know you do not have a dog, so it must be something else. I do not want to pry, I just wondered if it is something with which I can help.”

Sol pondered this for a minute before answering, “Thank you, Rose. It's Lily. She has locked herself in our bathroom and will not come out.”

Lily is Sol's wife. (Who else would be locked in his bathroom?) They share a large apartment here at the Home, with two bedrooms and even a nice kitchen. Lily is not at all like Sol. In fact, it is an example of what they say about the attracting of opposites. Lily is tall and thin, and it is likely that the most athletic thing she has ever done is to shuffle the cards for bridge, which she and Sol frequently play. Sol is usually calm and quiet; Lily tends to be quite excitable, like one of those little dogs that is all the time barking. And yet they have been married for almost fifty years! Go figure.

Mrs. K did not seem surprised to learn that Lily had locked herself in the bathroom. In fact, her response was simply, “What, again?”

“Oh, so you remember the last time?” said Sol.

“Not only do I remember,” Mrs. K said, “but it was Daisy Goldfarb and I who talked her out of the bathroom. She had become hysterical over…what was it? Something you had said to her?”

“In a way, I guess,” Sol said. “I had asked her why she so often makes meat loaf for dinner on those days when we do not eat in the dining room, why she does not try something new, like maybe a Mexican or Italian dish. She took it as a comment against her cooking—‘What, you don't like my meat loaf?'—alt
hough that was not what I meant at all, just that a little variety would be nice.”

“Some people take everything so personally,” Mrs. K said, shaking her head.

“Lily always seems to,” Sol said. “She certainly did that time. Pretty soon she was crying and had locked herself in the bathroom, telling me to go get myself another wife if I didn't like her cooking!
Oy,
what a
tummel
!”

“Yes, and it was not easy to calm her down, although we finally did. I cannot recall exactly what we said to her.”

“Too bad,” Sol said, “because she is in there again, and nothing I say is helping at all.”

“So what was the cause this time? You did not mention her meat loaf again, I hope.”

“No, no, nothing like that. In fact, after Lily got over being so upset and we talked about it, she agreed to try some new dishes from time to time, and it has worked out very well. No, this time I have no idea what has caused it.”

“No idea? You said or did nothing?”

“Nothing. At least nothing that I know of. I came home from some shopping I had done at the hardware store, and Lily immediately comes up to me and she is holding a book I had been reading. She shakes the book in my face and says something like ‘An
alter kocker
like you should be ashamed of yourself,' and, well, from there one thing led to another…”

“And then to the bathroom?”

Sol nodded his head.

“And what is this book she is holding?”

Sol seemed to hesitate a moment before answering: “It is just one of those books that give advice on how older people like us can live happier and healthier. You know, some expert is telling you what to eat, how to exercise, like that.”

Sol sighed and went back to examining the threads in the carpet.

Mrs. K put her hand on Sol's shoulder and asked, “Would you like that Ida and I should go and see if we can talk to her?”

I was glad to hear Mrs. K make the offer, because she needed something to get her mind away from worrying about the police and Bertha Finkelstein. Someone else's troubles always make a good diversion from one's own.

“Yes, certainly,” Sol said. “I'd appreciate it. Do you want me to come along?”

“Just to let us in. It is better to keep this among women.”

Sol scratched his head. “Married almost half a century and I still don't understand what's going on…”

Mrs. K and I followed Sol down the hallway to his apartment, which is in a separate wing from the single rooms that most of us occupy. Many people think of retirement homes like ours as places to live only when our husband or wife has died and we are alone. This is certainly the usual situation. But sometimes a married couple will wish to take advantage of the services a retirement home like the Julius and Rebecca Cohen Home for Jewish Seniors provides—meals prepared for them, doctors and nurses on call, and of course the socializing.

When we came to the door of his and Lily's apartment, Sol knocked, just in case Lily had come out of the bathroom and we were not needed. But there was no answer, and Sol unlocked the door. He entered first, with Mrs. K and me trailing behind.

The bathroom, as in our smaller apartments, is to the left off the entrance hallway that leads to the living room. The door was shut. Sol tried the handle, but it was locked. He called out, “Lily,” and from behind the door we heard, “Go away!”

Lily was definitely in there.

“Lily,” he called through the door, “I've brought Rose and Ida. They want to talk with you. I will leave while you talk.”

And without waiting for an answer, Sol left, closing the door behind him. As he was going he looked over his shoulder at us and his expression quite clearly said, “I hope you can do something with her.” Poor Sol—it must be very stressful to have one's wife locked in the bathroom.

As soon as Sol left, Mrs. K took his place at the bathroom door and said loudly, so even a person on the other side of the closed door could hear, “Lily, it's Rose Kaplan. Ida and I would like to help. Can you tell us what is the matter?”

From the other side there was only something like a sob; no other answer.

Mrs. K tried again: “Lily, did Sol do something bad to you? Did he strike you?” I was certain Mrs. K didn't think Sol would ever do such a thing, nor did I. She was just trying to get a response from Lily.

It worked. “No, no, he did not hit me!” Another sob. Poor Lily, she was totally
farklempt.

“Then why…”

“He is…he is…”

But that seemed to be as far as she was able to go.

“What is he, Lily?” Mrs. K asked. “What are you trying to say?”

Quietly, so we had to strain to hear, Lily said, “Fooling around. He is fooling around with someone.”

Mrs. K and I looked at each other, both surprised and puzzled. Sol is not the kind of person to “fool around,” if Lily meant having what they call “intimate relations” with another woman. And at his age?

“Lily, what do you mean?”

“Sex mad, that's what he is! Sex mad and fooling around.” By now Lily's voice had regained its volume and we could hear her quite well. So no doubt could their neighbors.

“Why do you say that, Lily?” Mrs. K asked.

Silence.

“Lily, why do you say Sol is ‘sex mad'? And what do you mean he is fooling around? He has always been a perfect gentleman, a real
mensch,
as long as I have known him.”

Lily answered in a slightly calmer voice: “I found…things. I found…”

At this point it seemed she could not go on and began to sob again.

We waited, but Lily didn't tell us what she found. Now of course I was curious to know, and I must admit not just for Sol's sake.

Sol had already told us that Lily was waving around a book about better living for older people. But what had this to do with sex or “fooling around”?

We looked around the apartment, and immediately Mrs. K spotted a book that had been left on the sofa, with a bookmark in about the middle of the pages. She went over and picked it up and I could see that the cover said, in big gold letters,
Enjoying the Golden Years: How to Live a Happy Life after 65.
She then opened it to where the bookmark resided and read those two pages. Her brow furrowed but she said nothing. When she was finished, she brought it over to me and indicated I should read it also. I was a little reluctant, as I assumed it must have been something very bad to have had such an effect on Lily. But Mrs. K was insistent, so I read the two pages.

It was part of a chapter titled “Sex After 65: Keeping Intimacy a Part of Your Married Life.” I cannot remember it word for word, but it described in some detail how two older people, even who are somewhat limited physically, can still, well, you know what. There was a graphic description of how to go about this, and I was embarrassed to be reading it in public, so to speak, if Mrs. K being there made it public. On the other hand, if my late husband, David, had been reading it and I found it, I don't think I would have been running and locking myself in the bathroom. To be honest, it is more likely I would have been running into the bedroom and hoping he would follow; but that is another matter entirely. One man's honey is another man's vinegar, as they say. It is the same for the ladies.

Again Mrs. K and I looked at each other. She shrugged her shoulders and took back the book as she again stood in front of the bathroom door.

“Lily, has it something to do with this book that was on the sofa, the one that talks about having sex in a person's ‘golden years'?” I probably would not have been speaking quite so bluntly, but Mrs. K was clearly not embarrassed by this at all.

“That's not all,” sobbed Lily. “I also found…I found…a bottle of those pills that men take to help them…to help them do what it says in that book.”

“You mean pills like, what is it called…”

“Viagra,” I whispered to Mrs. K. I have seen those silly commercials on TV so many times. I think they are men's answer to those awful “feminine hygiene” commercials for us women.
Feh!
A curse on both of them.

“Yes,” Lily sobbed. “That is it. I found it in his nightstand drawer. That is how I know he is fooling around.” Further sobs.

Again Mrs. K and I looked at each other. We both thought Lily was speaking nonsense: Not only did we not think Sol would do such a thing, but a book on improving one's sex life and a bottle of Viagra is hardly proof that one's husband is
shtupping
another woman, you'll excuse the expression. But apparently Lily thought that it was. This was much more complicated than meat loaf!

Mrs. K stopped to think about this for a minute. Then she turned to me and said quietly, “Ida, you stay here just in case. I am going to talk with Sol.”

I was not certain “just in case” what, but I nodded and pulled over a chair from the living room and sat down. I would rather have been listening to the conversation with Sol than to Lily's sobbing. It can get on one's nerves.

As Mrs. K told me later, she walked straight back to the lounge, where Sol was still sitting and looking distressed.

He looked up when he saw her and asked excitedly, “So did you talk with her?”

“We talked with her.”

“
Nu,
so what did she say? What is this
mishegoss,
this craziness?”

Mrs. K proceeded to tell Sol what Lily was saying to us. As he listened his expression changed so that, as Mrs. K put it, at the end he looked a little like a carp before it is chopped into gefilte fish—bulging eyes and open mouth.

“I do not know whether to laugh or cry,” he said to Mrs. K after he recovered. “Lily is totally
fertummelt
! All mixed up. She could not have things more backward and upside down if she were standing on her head and looking in a mirror!”

“I assume you mean you are not having an affair with some other lady, or planning to, as Lily seems to think.” (As usual, Mrs. K did not mince words.)

“Of course not,” Sol said, his tone indignant. “And I cannot believe she would even think that!” He took a minute to gather himself and then said, “I'll tell you why I was reading that book, and why I had that medicine, if you'll help me straighten Lily out—and get her out of the bathroom.”