The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (14 page)

“My goodness. You’re taking my breath away,”
Myrtle said, panting.

“You’ll be doing the hard work. And I’ll
make sure everyone knows it’s your idea to do this.”

The two of us stared at each other.

Then Myrtle grinned. “You know, I did raise
lots of money when I was younger.”

We stared some more.

“And you’ll help with the book and other
things?”

“Of course,” I said. “I only want a chance
to help.”

Hooked. I’d done it. I wanted to pump a fist
in the air the way young people always do today, but refrained. I
didn’t want Myrtle thinking too deeply about what I’d proposed.

I jumped to my feet. Time to go before
Myrtle asked any probing questions, or before I slipped and
mentioned Josephine.

Josephine

A few days after the conversation with Myrtle, Lill and I had just
taken our seats in the dining room when Myrtle bustled over to show
Lill the chart Bertie had set up for her to track donations to the
Sara Fund at Children’s Hospital. I didn’t realize Bertie had that
much tech savvy in him.

“You were right,” Myrtle told Lill, ignoring
me. “When I returned the cash and told everyone I’d set up a fund
at Children’s Hospital instead, every one of them took out their
checkbooks and wrote me a check for more than twice what they’d
given before.”

The chart showed that donations had reached
$800.

“And with that check from the anonymous
donor, we’ll be well on our way to our goal.”

“I’ll get that to you this afternoon,” Lill
said, raising her eyebrows in question to me.

I nodded. I’d have Devi run me to the
bank.

“How did you decide on a goal of five
thousand?” Lill asked.

“That’s what the lady at Children’s
suggested as a starting point. But I’m hoping we’ll do much better
than that. If we do, we’ll be able to help other children as well
as Sara.”

Clearly Myrtle has no concept of the costs
of modern medical care.

“I’ll get started on the messages for Sara’s
book,” Lill said, smiling at her. “And by the way, Josephine has
agreed to help me.”

That earned me a glance, a bosom heave, and
a clatter from Myrtle’s bracelets.

“I apologize for my earlier comments,” I
said, trying not to grit my teeth.

Myrtle looked down her nose at me, but after
a suitable interval, she nodded.

“I think it might be best to keep what we’re
doing a secret from Eddie,” Lill said. “At least, for the time
being.”

“Hmm yes, I think you’re right,” Myrtle
said, glancing at me as if I were a spider and she wasn’t sure if I
was dead or getting ready to jump on her. “Would you maybe
. . . that is . . . perhaps we could play cards
later?” Myrtle glanced in my direction, this time including me, but
not yet completely thawed.

I smiled at her, unclenching my jaw to do
it. This was one side effect of our collaboration that hadn’t
occurred to me—that we’d be roped back into playing cards with Edna
and Myrtle. To tell the truth, I’d been relieved when our
association ended. So I needed to come up with a way to deflect
her.

“How lovely,” Lill said, beaming, and I
wanted to kick her. “But I don’t think we’ll have time for cards
while we’re working on the inspiration book for Sara.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Myrtle said, her
expression uncertain. “And I’ll be busy as well.”

“Oh, you will,” Lill said.

I forced my lips into another smile and
followed Lill’s lead of killing with kindness. “This is a big
project for you to take on. Huge. I think Lill’s right, that we
won’t have time for cards until we reach our goal . . .”
I let the words trail off, and we nodded at each other in a
friendly fashion.

Finally, frowning, Myrtle turned and walked
away.

“Good save,” I told Lill.

“Kind of boring to go back to playing with
Myrtle and Edna after playing with Devi and Mac.”

Amen to that.

Devi

Saturday was an unseasonably warm, clear day, so I ran my errands
on foot. Blue Ash, the suburb where I live in a small apartment
complex, doesn’t have much of a downtown, just a couple of strip
malls and some office buildings. But there’s an interesting
memorial—a circle of bronze statues of soldiers from a variety of
conflicts—that lies on my route between the bakery and the
library.

I went to the bakery first and picked up
cookies for Josephine to have with her tea, hoping I’d be invited
to share. Next, I crossed the street and cut through a parking lot,
heading toward the memorial circle, where I noticed a man and a
small boy walking a dog.

The man seemed familiar, and my first
thought was that perhaps I’d seen the trio walking here before. A
few steps closer, and I realized the man was Mac. I stopped in the
lee of the building I’d been passing and watched as he bent over to
speak to the boy. Their conversation went on for a minute or so
while the dog sniffed the nearest statue.

Then Mac straightened, and I got a good look
at the boy. My throat clenched with sorrow. For Mac, his wife.

The child looked up at Mac, who smiled down
at him and took the small hand in his. I turned and walked away,
hoping Mac had been too occupied with his son to notice me.

~ ~ ~

A few days after I’d seen Mac and his son walking their dog, I saw
him again, arriving at Brookside. He and a second man, who I
assumed was also a police detective, were going into Mr. Souter’s
office as I was gathering a group for one of the weekly shopping
trips.

It distressed me the way my heart sped up
when I saw Mac. Just as upsetting was the urge to stick around in
the hope I’d get a chance to speak to him. As to what we’d talk
about, I had no idea.

Reminding myself of both his marital and
police status, I walked out to the bus to check in the shoppers and
was surprised to find Lillian and Josephine part of the group since
they rarely go on outings.

When we arrived at the mall, I helped
everyone off the bus and then followed them inside. While they
shopped, I found a place to sit and read.

I’d been reading a half hour when Lillian
and Josephine showed up, carrying a bag from Staples. They were
walking briskly, grinning at each other as if one of them had just
told a joke.

“What are you two up to?” I said, closing my
book.

“We aren’t always up to something,”
Josephine said.

“Maybe not always. But certainly
sometimes.”

“We have a plan,” Lillian said.

This could mean only one thing. I gave
Josephine a stern look. “I thought Mac told you to leave the
investigating to him.”

“Of course he did.” Josephine shook her
head. “And isn’t that just like a man?”

“A man who is a police officer. He wants you
to stay safe and not interfere.”

“We have no intention of interfering, dear,”
Josephine said. “Our plan is to enhance.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Safer for you not to know.”

“So you admit you’re doing something
dangerous?”

They looked at each other and then at me
with shocked expressions.

“Of course not,” Lillian said.

“Okay. If it’s not dangerous, why not tell
me?”

“It isn’t dangerous, but it is tricky,”
Josephine said.

“I believe I can handle tricky.”

“But if you don’t know anything and Mac asks
you questions, you won’t have to lie to him.”

Sadly, I could think of no reason Mac would
need to question me. “He was just going into Mr. Souter’s office as
we were leaving,” I told them.

“Good,” Josephine said. “He must have gotten
the theft reports. When do we get to go back?”

“Not for at least another thirty
minutes.”

Josephine snorted, obviously impatient for
the outing to be over, now that her shopping was done.

“You could always window shop,” I said.

“You do realize that ninety percent of
what’s on display is aimed at people at least sixty years younger
than we are?”

“I hadn’t thought of that, no. But now you
mention it.”

“Indeed. Can you picture either Lill or me
in one of those outfits?” Josephine pointed at the nearest shop
window, where skinny store mannequins cavorted in brightly colored
tights and halter tops that were wildly inappropriate for the
season.

“I don’t know. I think you’d look quite
fetching in that pink-striped one,” Lillian said.

“As would you in the green polka dots,”
Josephine retorted.

The two laughed, pulling me in as well,
successfully deflecting my attempt to find out what they were up
to.

When we got back to Brookside, Mac’s car was
no longer parked in the visitors’ area. Disappointed, I helped the
group off the bus.

I was busy the rest of the morning, planning
for future outings and the evenings’ entertainments, but in the
afternoon, Candace showed up in my doorway. She and I rarely have
any reason to talk to each other, so it surprised me when she slid
in, closed the door, and sat in the visitor’s chair.

“I need to give you a heads-up, Devi. The
police were here this morning. They spoke to Calvin and to me, and
they’re planning to come back to talk to you.”

Calvin was Mr. Souter. And the news Mac was
coming to speak to me lightened my mood.

“What’s it about?”

“They say they’ve received three reports
from either residents or relatives of residents claiming something
valuable has gone missing from here.”

“Oh? Why didn’t they report it to you or Mr.
Souter first?”

Candace huffed. “Apparently he blew them
off. I certainly never heard anything about it. But the items are
worth thousands of dollars.”

I tried to think what I would ask if this
were the first I was hearing about this. “What’s missing?”

“A gold necklace, a rare stamp, and would
you believe, a baseball card.”

“Baseball card?”

“Yep. Surprised me as well. Who knew they
could be worth thousands of dollars? She shook her head.

“And a stamp, you said?”

I kept asking questions, getting answers I
already knew. Throughout, I wondered if Candace was as clueless as
she seemed to be, or was she playing a role, like I was?

“And did you hear all the talk about Myrtle
Grabinowitz doing this fund-raiser thing?”

“Fund-raiser?” This time I didn’t have to
pretend I had no idea what Candace was talking about.

“For kids with cancer, inspired by some kid
Myrtle knows. And would you believe, Josephine Bartlett is aiding
and abetting? She was just here, asking me to write something for
an inspirational book she and Lillian are putting together for the
kids. And she insisted I use the paper and pen she provided.”

I recalled the Staples shopping bag, and
Josephine and Lillian’s unwillingness to tell me what they were
planning. But a book of inspirational words for kids with cancer?
It made no sense.

“That’s weird,” I said, meaning it.

“I’ll say. I consider Josephine our reigning
witch. This tarnishes her image considerably. She keeps this up,
you may not be the only one willing to deal with her.” Candace
stood. “Anyway, that’s it. I just wanted you to be prepared if the
police do come talk to you, although I told them it was unlikely
you’d know anything useful.”

She smiled, and I struggled not to take
offense at her casual assessment of what I knew or didn’t know.

~ ~ ~

Shortly after Candace left, I got a phone call from a Detective
Dillingham wanting to make an appointment to speak with me. I
smothered my disappointment over meeting with someone other than
Mac. It was better if I didn’t see him.

I agreed to be available at three. Then I
went in search of Josephine and Lillian.

Josephine wasn’t home, but Lillian was.
After asking who was there, it took another minute before she
opened her door.

“I just had an interesting conversation with
Candace,” I said.

“Oh?” Lillian didn’t invite me in, which was
peculiar since she’s usually welcoming.

“Something about a fund-raiser that Myrtle’s
running?”

“Oh, yes. She’s collecting for a fund at
Children’s that pays medical expenses for children with
cancer.”

“Candace also said you and Josephine were
helping?”

“It’s a wonderful cause, don’t you think?
Several of us are helping out.”

“But you and Josephine had a falling-out
with Myrtle, didn’t you?”

“Oh, that’s been . . . we’ve
apologized to each other, and it’s fine.” Lillian was usually
composed and dignified. This was the first time I’d seen her
flustered.

“And you’re putting together a book?” I
said.

She nodded. “We’re asking everyone to write
something inspirational.”

“Are you going to ask me?”

“Of course.” She stepped back from the door,
and I followed her inside. She picked up several sheets of paper
along with a ballpoint pen and handed them to me.

“We’re asking for hopeful messages that
children and their parents may find comforting. And if you have any
trouble coming up with something, it’s perfectly okay to pick a
quotation. Then you write it out. The handwriting will make the
book more interesting, don’t you think?”

“Why the sudden interest in children with
cancer?” Then I had an awful thought. “This doesn’t have anything
to do with Eddie, does it?”

“I think that’s where Myrtle first got the
idea,” Lillian said. “But the money’s going directly to
Children’s.”

While I could understand Myrtle collecting
money, I couldn’t see why Lillian and Josephine had agreed to this
bizarre idea for a handwritten book.

“Was there anything else you needed?”
Lillian said.

I shook my head. As I did, I noticed a book
on her table. I could read only parts of the title:
Grapho
and
riting
, before good manners required me to take my
leave. I walked out, puzzling over both Lillian’s manner and the
book’s title. When I got back to my office, I wrote out the letters
I’d seen, and worked on filling in the blanks.