The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (25 page)

“It will.” She picked up my phone and spoke
briefly with whoever answered. Then she dialed again. “Mac? It’s
Devi. We have a bit of a situation. Can you come?”

There was a pause. “Yes, as soon as
possible. At Josephine’s. I’ll open the back door for you.”

“Maybe a glass of water?” I said.

Devi went to get that, and then she left
again, and I heard sounds that indicated she was making tea. Lill
went to the window to watch for Mac. I lay back down after taking a
drink of water, because that felt better than sitting up.

The nurse arrived and took my blood
pressure. Then she listened to my heart and shined a light in my
eyes.

While she was doing that, Mac arrived. He
stood in the doorway, watching the nurse repack her bag, obviously
waiting until the woman left to speak to me.

“Okay. Let’s see if I have this right. You
and Lillian put out the word about the painting in order to entice
the thief to steal it. That about right?”

When I tried to speak, he held up a hand to
silence me.

“And now your painting is missing, and you
suspect you were drugged so you wouldn’t notice the thief breaking
in. All that correct so far?”

His expression was so stern, it made me feel
even fainter.

“Well,” I said, but again, he held up a
hand.

“Devi, would you take a look in the
cupboard? We’ll need a clean glass jar with a tight lid.”

“What for?” I said.

“A urine sample.”

“I think not.”

He sighed. “Josephine, proving you’ve been
drugged would go a long way toward accomplishing what you’re trying
so hard to do here.”

Devi showed up beside him with a jam
jar.

“Can you manage, or do you need my help?”
Mac said.

I could see there was no way I was getting
out of it, so I might as well do it on my terms. “Devi can help
me.”

I sat up, but I had to wait until my head
stopped spinning before I attempted to stand. Devi steadied me and
walked me to the bathroom, but there I drew the line. This whole
situation had taken a distinctly undignified turn.

“I can manage.” I took the jar from her
hands and closed the door in her face.

For the first time since moving to
Brookside, I used the grab bar by the toilet to steady myself. I
did have to pee. It had been, after all, over nineteen hours.

When I returned to the other room, Mac was
ready with a paper bag and a marker pen that he used to label the
jar and the bag. It was completely mortifying, and I was relieved
when the jar disappeared out of sight into the bag.

We sat at the table. Devi served the tea
she’d made as Mac grilled Lill and me about every aspect of our
plan to catch the thief.

“We’re convinced it’s Edna in cahoots with
Eddie,” I summarized. “And the drugged cream puff is just further
proof.”

Mac shook his head. “We can prove you were
drugged and with what drug, but we won’t be able to prove the drug
was in the cream puff. However, it is highly suggestive
circumstantial evidence.”

“Are you going to get a search warrant?”

“I can probably get one for Eddie’s place,
but it will be impossible to justify searching Edna’s
apartment.”

We’d just see about that. Edna never locked
her door, at least, she didn’t used to. It meant Lill and I could
easily find a time when she was out to take a look. The painting
was large enough; there were only a few places it could be. I
didn’t tell Mac what I was thinking, of course.

“Do not even think about it, Josephine,” Mac
said.

“Think about what?” I said, trying not to
look guilty.

He narrowed his eyes. “You are thinking
about it. Listen to me. You set one foot in Edna’s apartment and I
find out about it, I’ll charge you with breaking and entering.”

“No. Of course, I won’t,” I said. But I had
a hard time meeting his gaze.

“We should have the test results by
tomorrow, and then we’ll see what comes next.” He was taking my
urine to the hospital for testing, since the crime laboratory was
notoriously slow.

“Meanwhile, get something to eat and take it
easy. And no more of your
trying to catch the thief
antics.”

After he left, Lill cooked me an omelet, and
then she and Devi watched me eat it.

~ ~ ~

Mac called to tell me that zolpidem had been found in my urine.

“What’s that?”

“Same as Ambien. It’s a sleeping med.”

“Yes, I know what that is. So Eddie drugged
me. That means he must be involved in the theft of the
painting.”

“I don’t know if I can convince a judge of
that, but I’ll try.”

A few hours later, he called to say the
judge had felt the evidence was too weak to justify her issuing a
search warrant.

So far, the only people who knew about the
theft of my decoy painting and my being drugged were Lill, Devi,
Mac, and the thief or thieves. The nurse had been told I’d had a
dizzy spell.

After Mac said he couldn’t get a search
warrant for Eddie’s place, I tried to talk Lill into going with me
to be a lookout while I searched Edna’s apartment, but once again
she refused.

“I don’t want Mac mad at me, Josephine. And
you know he would be. You’ll just have to accept the fact our trap
didn’t work.”

I wasn’t ready to accept any such thing, but
I was at a loss of how to proceed.

~ ~ ~

When I returned from dinner the following day, I found a message
from the thief on my phone. She, and I use the term advisedly,
wasn’t going to sell the painting to some unsuspecting collector.
She was demanding I pay to get it back. I was certain the caller
was Edna, although she did disguise her voice.

She demanded a payment of $100,000 in
twenty- and fifty-dollar bills. It struck me as odd she didn’t ask
for more, but perhaps she thought more than that would be too heavy
for her to handle. However, when I checked currency weights on the
Internet, I discovered the $100,000 would weigh only seven
pounds.

Listening to her instructions was like being
transported on to the set of a television cop drama: random serial
numbers, placed in a dark green backpack, no tracking devices, no
dye markers. And all of it ready to go by Thanksgiving Day when I
would receive my final instructions.

I called Mac, and when he arrived at the end
of his shift, I played the message for him.

“But the missing painting is only worth two
thousand, so you are—”

“Not planning to pay the ransom. But I can
pretend. After all, I would like the painting back. And I expect
you want to catch the thief?”

“Of course.”

“This means you’ll have to spend
Thanksgiving here.”

“Yep.”

“How about I invite Devi and Lill? We can
have dinner together while we wait for the ransom call.”

“My neighbor’s invited me to dinner. You
know, Teddy’s mom? I’d hate to disappoint them.”

“Invite them here. No reason why we can’t
have a party while we’re waiting, is there?”

Mac shook his head. It meant we had a
plan.

Devi

I arrived at Josephine’s on Thanksgiving morning to find her
already cooking. She’d told Lillian and me she would be preparing
the dinner from scratch since, as she put it, “the Brookside chef
will no doubt serve pressed turkey breast. And if there’s one food
that can be mistaken for cardboard, that’s the one. No. We’re
having a real turkey with all the trimmings.”

Lillian was in her own kitchen preparing her
assigned dishes since Josephine’s kitchen could barely accommodate
the two of us. But as soon as Lillian finished putting together her
sweet potato casserole, her grandmother’s stuffing, and a chopped
salad, she joined us.

I knew Mac was coming to dinner in order to
be present when the ransom call came through. I also knew his
neighbor and her son were joining us, and that, originally, he’d
planned to have dinner with that neighbor.

I was nervous about seeing him with another
woman, although Josephine insisted he wasn’t “with” her. But I very
much doubted that when they arrived. The neighbor, Kate, was
attractive, and the two were comfortable together. Something Mac
and I no longer seemed to be. It was also clear Mac was fond of
Teddy.

Kate’s assignment had been dessert, and she
arrived with both pumpkin and cherry pies. Mac’s contribution was
also stuffing because, according to Josephine, who was directing
the meal preparation like an army general on campaign, “you can
never have too much stuffing.”

Along with assisting Josephine, I’d
contributed a vegetable casserole that was a Subramanian
traditional dish—a mix of vegetables in a tomato cream sauce
seasoned with curry and a dozen spices I’d had to buy, since I
rarely cook anything very complicated anymore.

When we were seated in the places assigned
by Josephine, she asked us to join hands. I was sitting between Mac
and Lillian, and as Mac took my hand in his, I thought how lovely
it was to touch him. I had only one of Mac’s hands, though, since
Kate was holding the other one.

Josephine suggested that we each think of
something we were especially grateful for and to share that.

Kate said, “good neighbors,” and smiled at
Mac. Teddy, after prompting and an explanation from Kate, said,
“taking walks with Mac and Bruno.” Josephine said, “finding new
friends,” and smiled at Lillian, Mac, and me. Lillian echoed
Josephine’s “finding new friends,” and then it was my turn.

“I’m especially grateful, Josephine and
Lillian, for the gift of your friendship. And, Mac, thank you for
being there when I needed your help.”

When I said that last bit, he squeezed my
hand. It was a light squeeze, and I wondered if he’d done the same
thing to Kate when she’d said she was thankful for him. Probably.
It was the nice thing to do.

Mac was the last to speak. “I’m thankful for
everyone around this table and for what you add to my life. In no
particular order: Erdradour Scotch, naked poker, a dog to walk, and
Teddy.”

Teddy gave Mac one of his incandescent
grins. Then we let go of each other’s hands and started passing
dishes around the table.

Mac had seconds of my casserole, but that
provided only a tiny measure of satisfaction in a day that should
have been filled with gratitude but was instead shaded by an
imminent sense of loss. For once Mac apprehended the thief, there’d
be no reason for his continuing presence in our lives.

Edna

My granddaughter, Amanda, called two days before Thanksgiving to
say she and her dad were coming for the day. Normally, that would
be wonderful news, but this year it added an unexpected complexity
to my planning for the ransom pickup.

I’d decided to have the money delivered to
the Kenwood Mall on Thanksgiving afternoon, after the big Christmas
shopping rush kicked off. Eddie wanted to wait until Friday, and
although there was merit to his suggestion, I thought Thanksgiving
Day was the better bet.

Since he’s so tall, using Eddie to pick up
the ransom is my thorniest problem. Not only will it be difficult
for him to blend in, but I believe he’s a suspect in the other
thefts that are being actively investigated. There’s one police
officer, in particular, I’ve seen visit Brookside repeatedly.

Then I had a thought. Since I was doing this
for Amanda, perhaps it was time for her to pitch in and help. But
what story could I tell her that would make sense of something so
peculiar as her picking up a backpack that didn’t belong to her and
then escaping with it from the mall?

I went to bed puzzling it through and woke
up with the perfect plan. I’d tell her a local radio station was
sponsoring a scavenger hunt, and I’d worked out when and where they
planned to hide the backpack that would win me the first prize. Not
wanting her to be too nervous, I told her the prize was $1,000.

“It’s going to be placed at the mall this
afternoon,” I told her. “And I don’t think I’m agile enough. You
see, you have to get the backpack safely out of the mall with
nobody spotting you, because other people will also work out where
it is, and they may try to take it away from you.”

Her eyes began to shine. Clearly, she was
hooked. And so after Thanksgiving dinner, which I’d arranged for us
to eat in the dining room, we left Baxter to watch the football
game in the library while Amanda and I drove to the mall.

Mall traffic is always terrible this time of
year, but I directed her in a back way, and we found an ideal
parking spot. I led her inside and showed her exactly where the bag
was to be dropped off—in a planter under an overhang adjacent to
the food court.

We were early, so I sent her off to shop
while I called Josephine with the final instructions to drop off
the ransom at five o’clock.

Amanda returned, shortly before five,
carrying a large Nordstrom bag with handles. “I thought I could
stick the backpack in here. That will hide it. And I have another
idea. When the backpack arrives, why don’t you create a diversion
while I pick it up? Maybe fake a heart attack or something.”

Both beautiful and bright.
“I think
that’s a brilliant idea.”

We grinned at each other.

The drop-off was late. At five twenty, there
was still no sign of Josephine. But perhaps she was stuck in
traffic. Amanda was restless, and so was I. I’d earlier picked out
a family at a nearby table for the diversion Amanda suggested, but
they’d now finished their food and left.

Another glance at the drop-off and then back
at the tables. Good. A family had just sat down. A husband, wife,
and little boy who had Down Syndrome and was eating a bowl of ice
cream.

At five thirty, I saw the Brookside
associate activities director walking past the drop-off. I thought
that was an interesting coincidence until Amanda tapped my arm and
pointed. The backpack was there. She squeezed my hand, then jumped
up and hustled over to the backpack, carrying her Nordstrom
bag.