The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (11 page)

“A story, hmm?” He sat back. “For sure you
ladies have one to tell about me now that you’ve wiped me out. And
I am hoping I can convince you to keep the specifics of our
. . . association this evening to yourselves. Otherwise,
how’s it going to look? A macho guy like me losing my grubstake
playing five-card draw with senior citizens.”

“Nice try, Mac,” Josephine said, putting out
a hand to intercept the clips I’d pushed in his direction. “But no
cigar. You want to play, you pay.”

I watched the interaction carefully, seeking
any sign Mac was the slightest bit embarrassed or annoyed about
losing. But all I saw were lips trying to look firm, but failing,
and eyes filled with a humorous glint.

“Okay, let’s see. How about this? I
microwaved my sister’s doll.”

Josephine shrugged. “Depends on how old you
were and what happened next.”

“I was twelve. The doll’s head exploded, and
the body melted.”

“What did she do?” Lillian asked.

“Before or after?”

“Both,” Josephine said, clearly withholding
full approval.

“She was ten. A real brat. Still is, as a
matter of fact. What she did was make a commotion while I was
sneaking out to be with my friends. One of the guys had liberated a
bottle of vodka and a pack of cigarettes from his folks, and we
were intent on seeing what drinking and smoking were all about. Not
only did she stop me from going, my friends were busted as well. We
were all mad as wet cats. Except, well, I didn’t admit it, of
course, but I was secretly relieved. I expect I cooked the doll so
nobody would suspect. As for what she did after that, well, suffice
it to say she’s never forgiven me. But then, it was her favorite
doll.”

That was all said with a humorous
deprecation, and I couldn’t help it, I liked this man. And
obviously so did Josephine and Lillian.

Josephine cut her pile of clips in half and
passed it to Mac. “I liked the exploding-head part,” she said,
clearly trying not to smile. “You need another round?” She pointed
at Mac’s glass.

“Don’t tempt me. It’s exceptional. Although
I’ve never heard of Erdradour before.”

“Not surprising. Compared to Dewar’s, it’s
microscopic. It’s the only distillery in Scotland that still does
everything by hand. My husband brought back several bottles when he
went to Saint Andrews to golf.”

Mac picked up the bottle and looked at the
label. “Hope he didn’t have to take out a second mortgage.”

“Why do you say that?” Josephine said.

“This Scotch is thirty years old. It must
have set him back a pretty penny. Guess I should have passed on
that second shot. Don’t want you accused of bribing a police
officer.”

Josephine waved his words away. “Please,
have some more.”

He shook his head. “As it is, you’re stuck
with me until I clear what I’ve already drunk.”

We settled down to play. Mac won a hand and
so did I, but then Josephine wiped us all out with a series of
masterful bluffs. At least, that’s what I suspected when she
refused to show her cards after forcing the rest of us to fold.

“That does it for me,” Mac said, pushing
back from the table.

I glanced at my watch and was shocked to
discover it was after midnight.

~ ~ ~

After everyone left, Josephine and I spent a short, peaceful night,
but I didn’t spend it on the couch.

“That couch may be comfortable for sitting,
but not for sleeping,” Josephine said, offering me the other side
of the bed.

We braced the front door with one of the
dining room chairs, but I thought it unlikely we had anything to
worry about. If there was any danger, I was sure Mac would have
arranged for Lillian to be guarded, and he would have spent the
night on Josephine’s couch himself. He seemed quite taken with both
Josephine and Lillian. I doubted he’d chance anything happening to
either of them.

I lay awake for a time, thinking about what
Josephine and Lillian had discovered. Not only about Eddie and the
grocery thefts, but the larger thefts, if that’s what they
were.

What worried me the most was that if there
was someone making off with residents’ valuables, then Josephine
could become a target. Her painting was too large for someone to
carry off surreptitiously, but I doubted that would stop a
dedicated thief, not once they discovered the painting was worth
millions.

Eventually, my thoughts drifted back to the
evening just past, and smiling at the memory of Mac’s
exploding-doll story, I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, I awakened to the smell of
coffee. When I walked into the kitchen, I found Josephine chopping
onions and Lillian sitting at the table, watching.

“My, you two are early birds.”

“I hope we didn’t disturb you, dear,”
Josephine said.

I blinked. Had Josephine really just called
me dear? A slip of the tongue, no doubt.

“No. Not at all. I probably ought to go. I
think you’ll be fine as long as you stick together.”

“And we do have our pull cords,” Josephine
said, referring to the emergency cords in each room that can be
used to summon help. “But don’t leave yet, dear. I’m making
omelets. I have onions, mushroom, zucchini, and cheese. Your
choice.”

There was that “dear” again. Well, we had
slept together, after all.

“All of the above would be delightful.” I
was too hungry to turn down Josephine’s offer.

“That’s what I thought,” Lillian said.
“Would you like coffee or tea?”

Lillian poured me a cup of coffee, which I
needed to wake up properly. After a couple more minutes at the
stove, Josephine set plates in front of us.

“I’ve been thinking,” Josephine said,
turning back to the stove for the third plate. “We have to do
something about Eddie if we want to sleep at night. And you can’t
watch over me more than a night or two, Devi.”

“I don’t mind, but it might cause problems
if it got out I was spending nights here. I’m sure Mr. Souter would
think something nefarious was going on.”

“Well, it is,” Lillian said. “I’m convinced
someone is stealing from us. If we ask around, I expect we’ll find
other things are missing.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“If he’s responsible, Eddie might hear about it.”

“He may not be the thief, you know,” Lillian
said. “It could be someone a lot smarter than Eddie. You see, I
just heard a rumor about a missing stamp. Do either of you think
Eddie would know anything about valuable stamps?”

“You mean, like a postage stamp?” Josephine
said.

“Exactly.”

“And who’s missing it?”

“Dot Todhoffer.”

“Really?” Josephine said. “Dot’s a stamp
collector? I thought she was almost blind.”

“She hasn’t always been almost blind.
Besides, it was her husband who was the collector.”

“How does she know a stamp is missing?” I
said.

“Dot’s daughter came for a visit with a
grandson who wants to collect stamps. When Dot got out the
collection, the grandson noticed the stamp was missing. He
remembered his grandfather telling him it was the most valuable
one. Something to do with an upside-down airplane. A Jenny. The boy
has a sister named Jenny. That’s why he remembered it.”

“That makes three,” Josephine said. “One is
bad luck, two may be carelessness. But three. Well, three, to my
mind, is no coincidence.”

“Maybe we should call Mac,” Lillian said. “I
expect three incidents would make him suspicious as well.”

“Someone will ask how he found out about
it.”

“He told Eddie he got an anonymous tip about
the other thefts,” I offered.

“Why don’t you call him, Devi?” Josephine
said.

She was so transparent, it made me laugh.
“Are you by any chance matchmaking, Mrs. Bartlett?”

Josephine shrugged. “You liked him, didn’t
you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Not that I
intended to do anything about it.

“That’s settled then. Two birds, my dear.
Always the way to go whenever possible.”

Smiling at Josephine, I shook my head,
amazed to think, that if Brookside had had a curmudgeon competition
mere days ago, Josephine would have topped my candidate list.

Mac

The morning after the poker game, I woke up feeling good despite
the two shots of Scotch. Perhaps because it was such excellent
Scotch.

Out of curiosity, I googled Erdradour. I
couldn’t find an exact match to the bottle from last night, but I
did find a thirty-year-old Erdradour Scotch that sold for $500 a
bottle.

And would I accept another sip if the
occasion arose? More than likely.

I finished breakfast and my newspaper, but
aside from laundry and raking leaves, the rest of my Saturday was
free. I live in Blue Ash, the suburb next door to Montgomery, and I
rent a small house that’s targeted for a rebuild. Once the house
sells, I’ll have to move, but for the moment I like not living in
an apartment.

I was sorting laundry when the phone rang.
It was Devi, telling me that Lillian had uncovered yet another
possible theft. Then why didn’t Lillian call me? I’d given her my
card last night.

The thought Devi might have seized the
opportunity as an excuse to talk to me put a smile on my face. I
went for broke, although that hadn’t worked particularly well
playing poker last night, and asked her to lunch, selling it as an
opportunity to go over the details of the suspected thefts.

When she agreed, I hung up, grinning. Too
restless to pass the time until lunch raking leaves, I went next
door and offered to take Bruno and Teddy for a walk. Bruno is a
nondescript hound, large and slobbery but sweet about it, and Teddy
is a five-year-old with Down Syndrome who dotes on Bruno and loves
to go for walks as much as Bruno does.

When we walk, Teddy usually wants to visit
the memorial circle near downtown Blue Ash. He’s fascinated by the
bronze figures of soldiers that stand in a circle there, and Bruno
is captivated by all the interesting smells.

Today, when I took them back, Kate, Teddy’s
mom, looked like maybe she’d managed a short nap. She hugged me the
way she always does and asked if I’d like a cup of coffee.
Sometimes I say yes and we sit in her sunny kitchen, chatting for a
while. Often Teddy takes a nap if the walk was long enough, and
that gives Kate an additional break. She works nights at the
hospital, and I suspect she rarely gets as much sleep as she
needs.

Teddy’s dad is out of the picture, but while
I think Teddy is a cool kid, I know it’s best if I don’t add the
complication of trying to juggle a relationship with his mother to
the mix.

When I finished chatting with Kate, it was
time to meet Devi, who arrived at the café five minutes after me.
She had a tote with her and, after we decided what we’d eat, she
pulled out several sheets of paper, handing them over after we
ordered.

“Here are the details about the other three
thefts Lillian’s uncovered. I think if you want to know what’s
going on at Brookside, she’s your girl.”

“Not Josephine?”

“Josephine isn’t very social.”

“Really? I thought Josephine was quite
social, at least while she was wiping me out at poker.” I glanced
at the information Devi had handed me. “It seems it’s always a
family member noticing what’s missing?”

“Yes. Glenn Bascombe died, Gladys Turpin has
been transferred into the memory unit, and Dot Todhoffer is nearly
blind.”

“So you’re saying that whoever is doing this
targets victims who are the least likely to notice the item is
missing?” I looked up and thanked the waitress as she delivered my
sandwich and Devi’s salad.

“I think that’s true,” Devi agreed, smiling
her thanks at the woman. “And I also think whoever it is chooses
small items, the kind that might be easily misplaced. But while
Josephine and Lillian accept that’s possible, they think three such
instances of valuables missing within a short time are more than a
coincidence.”

“I agree. It does seem suspicious.”

“Can you look into it then?”

“I can’t look into it at all unless we
receive a credible report from one of the individuals directly
involved.”

She sat back and blinked. “Really? But Glenn
and Gladys can’t make reports.”

“Glenn’s heir or the executor for the estate
should do it. And Gladys must have a legal guardian who can file on
her behalf.”

“And if you had that, you’d
investigate?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

Throughout the exchange, Devi had held her
fork suspended. After those final words, she finally lifted the
fork to her mouth, took a bite, and chewed, her expression
thoughtful.

I knew if I didn’t introduce more personal
subjects, I might not get another chance. After all, Devi wasn’t
directly involved in the purported thefts. So any investigating I
might do would give me little reason to talk to her.

As she took another bite, I said, “How long
have you been at Brookside?”

She blinked and set her fork down. “Oh,
let’s see . . . five, six months, I guess.”

“You a Cincinnati girl?”

She shook her head. “I had a college
roommate from here. She’s the one who convinced me Cincinnati was a
great place to live.”

So many things were wrong with that answer.
Where to begin? Which college? And how long ago did she graduate?
Although she looked young, she conducted herself with more reserve
than most recent college grads could muster.

And where was she from originally? And why
come to Cincinnati to work for a retirement community? Yeah, I’d
get it if she’d come for a job at Procter & Gamble, whose
headquarters are here. But moving to Cincinnati to work at a place
like Brookside? Nope. Didn’t compute.

“What about you?” she said before I could
organize my next question. “Are you from this area?”