Getting Old Is Criminal Part 26

"Not so fast." Tessie moves into the inner circle where Sol stands, quivering. She holds him up with her hefty arms. "He's got a right to defend himself."

"Not here. In court, when he's on trial for lewd and lascivious behavior." Alice must watch a lot of lawyer shows.

"All I want is a little love-is that so much to ask?" Sol raises his arms beseechingly to the crowd.

Hy chuckles. "With your weenie sticking out? That's what you call love?"

Now the laughter begins.

"I call that s.e.x," Alice says.

"I call that perversion." Alice's husband is close to grabbing Sol. Tessie places her large body protectively in front of him.

"My wife is dead, but a man still got needs." Sol is practically on his knees. "I should have thrown myself on her coffin and died with her."

Hy gives advice. "You got two hands, don't you? And a VCR?" More chuckles and sneers.

Sol shakes his head. "That's not love." He looks around, appealing to his enemies. "I'm not what you call a handsome man."

"That's for sure." Even Ida is rallying with the mob. I elbow her. She gives me a dirty look.

"I'm not very good with women."

Hy looks around. "Where's Evvie? She can testify to that."

"I'm shy. I don't know what else to do, so I just look. I don't mean no harm. I'm a worshipper of lovely ladies' bodies."

This cracks Hy up. "The schmuck needs gla.s.ses. He peeps on old ugly broads and calls them lovely bodies? Pathetic."

Alice's husband walks over to Hy and glowers down at him. "Don't make disparaging remarks about my wife."

Hy backs off. "I mean all the other old broads he peeped."

Lola pinches his arm, warning him to shut up.

A bevy of women arrive. The news is traveling fast. May Levine, Eileen O'Donnell, and Edna Willis come barreling down the path. They push their way through the crowd and start pummeling Sol. Tessie tries to ward them off. These are women Sol peeped and they want revenge. Dora Dooley applauds. Revenge is sweet.

May steps out of the circle and smacks Hy. "I heard what you said. Old broads! You should talk, you dirty-minded, ugly putz. putz."

"Stop that," says Lola, pushing May away from her adored husband.

Now Jane gets a shot at Sol. Sol covers his head with his hands as she hits his bald head over and over. Tessie pulls her away but Eileen and May get at him.

"I could use a little help in here," Tessie shouts.

Little Irving, though terrified and utterly embarra.s.sed, enters the circle to help. He timidly reaches out to stop May but she shoves him away.

The audience is hooting and cheering and making side bets.

Sol pleads his case. "What's a man supposed to do? Do I spend the rest of my life itching and scratching? Where is the justice? I see the married men and their wives. I am so jealous, I can't stand it. Night after night I cry in my lonely bedroom. So what should I do? Somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery."

"Why don't you just get married and shut up?" says Jim.

Sol sees a breath of hope. "Who would marry me?"

Tessie lifts him up in her powerful arms. "I would, snook.u.ms. And I'll give you all the s.e.x you want. A woman has needs, too."

"You want to marry me?" Sol is clearly terrified of being dropped by this Amazon of a woman.

"I do!" With that she lifts him high in the air, triumphantly. "Name the date, p.u.s.s.ycat."

Sol turns at the sound of many sighs. The women are smiling. Even the peeped ladies forgive. Women do like a good romance. Especially Dora. The men applaud. Except for Hy, who's disgusted. Irving shakes his head sadly and walks away.

"Got any of those cute little blue pills?" Tessie asks Sol. "Ya know-wink, wink-v.i.a.g.r.a?"

Sol looks down at his grinning new fiancee and shudders.

Sophie is disappointed. "We shoulda been the ones to nab him."

"Yeah," adds Bella.

"We coulda got him last night."

"Never mind," adds Ida. "He made his bed and now he's gotta lie in it!"

I shake my head in disbelief. Thus ends the case of the Peeper.

THIRTY-NINE.

GOSSIP REVISITED.

It still seems strange to me that our condo neigh bors, the seemingly very sophisticated Barbi and Casey, work out of an inexpensive minimall in a store that used to sell shoes. Their research business name, Gossip, is the only word seen on the blackened outside windows. In very small letters at that. And their office, so to speak, is a huge work s.p.a.ce done up almost totally in white. White floors, white walls, white furniture, except for their moveable desk chairs, which are black. When we walk in we automatically feel we should whisper as if we were in some hospital. Last time we were there, they offered us spicy chai, so this time Bella came prepared with her own Lipton's tea bag.

Some exchange of h.e.l.los, and then from Casey, "Where's the fifth musketeer? How come Evvie isn't with you? You girls are always joined at the hips."

The girls look nervously toward me. I toss out an answer. "New job. She's at a retirement complex keeping her eye on our perp." Well, it really isn't much of a stretch. One could certainly say she's doing just that.

"We did hear some rumors as to a new gig," Barbi comments.

"First we discuss price," I say.

Casey laughs. "I thought that was supposed to be our line." Barbi puts her arm around Casey's shoulder and giggles.

Sophie has a suggestion. "What about a senior discount?"

"Look," Barbi says, "we know you can't afford us. Can we barter?"

"Barter? You mean trade for services?" Ida asks.

"Precisely," says Casey. The two of them are wearing their wedding rings again, rings they do not wear around the condo. I get the feeling they wore them last time as a test, to see how we would react. We must have pa.s.sed the test. Considering the fact that my girls can't keep a secret about anything, they never said a word to anyone. And yes, Casey's in masculine clothes-a shirt and pants- and Barbi's wearing a long, flowing skirt. I'm waiting for one of them to address the other as husband or wife, and then all bets are off. The girls will spread that piece of news like cream cheese on a bagel.

"What have we got that you would want?" Sophie asks in surprise.

Barbi smiles. "Ida makes the best pecan pie in Florida."

Ida beams. "Anytime you want one, just give me an hour's notice."

"What else?" Bella wants to know.

"That's it," says Casey.

The girls think for a moment.

Bella says, "I sew very good. As long as I can use a magnifying gla.s.s."

"You don't really have to throw that in," says Barbi. "However, thanks. Anything that needs repair we'll come to you."

"I make a great matzo ball chicken soup," adds Sophie. "The secret is that you have to use parsnips."

"I didn't know that. Sure, add that to the pot," Casey says, laughing at her pun.

"I suppose I should contribute something, but I don't know what," I say.

Barbi shakes her head. "We're good. Chicken soup, pecan pie, and free sewing work. Sold."

Casey adds, "However, we'd be interested in hearing how you solved the last case and played bingo at the same time."

"Dinner and the story. My apartment at your convenience," I say.

"Great," says Casey. "Negotiations finalized." She is now all business. "What can we do for you today?"

Ida, stepping easily into Evvie's position, reports, "As Gladdy mentioned, we have a new case." She fills them in about Alvin Ferguson, his mother, Esther, and Romeo-a.k.a. Philip Smythe-living at Grecian Villas in Fort Lauderdale.

Barbi and Casey listen avidly.

"So the son thinks Romeo could be a killer?" Casey rubs her hands in antic.i.p.ation.

Ida adds, "His wife doesn't think so. There's no motive. He gets nothing from Esther's dying."

"I'm not sure." I shudder, thinking of Evvie alone with him.

"Start with a couple of facts. When did Philip meet Esther?"

"The manager, Rosalie Gordon, and her a.s.sistant, Myra, at Grecian Villas said they lived together three months. They met the first week after he arrived in May."

"When did Mrs. Esther Ferguson die?"

I look at my notes from our meeting with Alvin and Shirley Ferguson. "July twenty-seventh."

"And he moved out when?"

"July thirty-first. Apparently, he was too heartbroken to stay any longer."

"What do you know about him?"

I relate how popular he was wherever he went.

"Name of the last residence before Grecian Villas?"

"Seaside Cliffs. Sarasota."

"And where he is now."

"Wilmington House. Palm Beach."And they're off, sliding their moveable chairs across the room to their individual computers. They type and type and type. Then exchange information with each other, talking a kind of high-tech jargon, as we sit and share the one Lipton's tea bag at the little white table at the side of the room.

The two of them finally turn and grin at each other and do high fives. "Yes!" they say in tandem. They slide back, beaming.

"Easy," says Casey.

"Piece of cake," says Barbi.

Casey starts. "We checked this year. All three of the facilities you mentioned are within this year. Here's something interesting."

Barbi continues. "Three months at each residence. One month off to get installed in the next place and maybe time for a little vacation." Barbi whips a sheet of actual paper (the first I've seen here-white, of course) out of the printer and hands it to us.

We read. January through March, Smythe was at Seaside Cliffs in Sarasota. April he took off. And seemingly traveled. No actual address. Then May through July he was at Grecian Villas. No known address in August, but he showed up at Wilmington House on September first.

"What does it mean?" I ask.

"Yeah," says Ida. "I don't get it.

"A very organized man, this Mr. Smythe," says Barbi. "It looks like he's following a plan. Three months in one place, then he uses the next month to resettle. Then three months in the next, etc."

"In other words he's planning ahead to leave regardless of how good his life is there? How very odd." I am surprised.

"That's what it looks like," says Casey. "Let's take a giant leap here."