He begins, "You are probably wondering why I'm here."

Jack says, "Whatever the reason, you're most welcome."

"Allow me-the good news. It will take a while to clear the rubble, and to secure the building so it will be safe to enter, but then you and your neighbors will be able to get into your apartments again to gather up whatever has not been destroyed. I've already informed the others in Z building."

Jack is properly grateful. "That's a relief. Hopefully we'll retrieve important papers and not have to make endless reports to endless government agencies."

I agree. "Especially since the lines will be horrific."

Jack shakes Stanley's hand. "Thanks, you're a G.o.dsend."

Stanley accepts this shyly. "I wouldn't say that." He sits up straighter in his chair. "However, I've just come from the police station with disturbing news. They finished the autopsy. The poor man's head was bashed in. They found bone fractures in the skull. And on some parts of the skeleton. No accident. It was murder."

"How awful," I say.

Jack asks, "Will they investigate? The department is overloaded and I doubt they have the manpower or the time."

Stanley nods. "You hit the nail right on the head." He clasps his hands together on my table. "Who knows when or if they'll ever find out anything. That's why I'm here. Gladdy Gold, I want to hire you to investigate."

I'm surprised. "I don't know what to say."

"Listen, let me tell you what I know." He grimaces. "It's true what they say about old age. I don't recall what I did yesterday, but I can remember fifty years back like it was was yesterday." yesterday."

I nod in agreement, but don't respond, not wanting to break his train of thought.

"The crime happened about this same time of year. The weather was stormy. We were late laying in the foundation. So many delays in the construction. So much mud. Men leaving for warmer climates and other jobs because they couldn't wait any longer for the weather to change. A lot of aggravation, but I won't bore you with my tsouris. tsouris.

"As I said, my foreman, Ed, had hired a new man during the week I was in Chicago. Family situation. A relative in trouble. Ah, I digress. I al ready mentioned the worker's name was Johnny Blake. Ed told me he was a large man, a good worker, but he didn't talk much. He told Ed he came from Tampa. Somewhere near the Gulf. The day I arrived home, the storm was at its worst. But the next day, we had a break in the weather and we decided we had to get the foundation done. Fast. Ed was surprised Mr. Blake didn't show up for work. He believed Mr. Blake wasn't the type who would walk just after getting a job he needed. Besides, his locker still had his things in it.

"But we had plenty of other problems on our plates and I a.s.sumed the man would come back for his stuff one day, so I stored it. And I forgot about him. Until now."

"Do you remember what was in his locker?" Jack asks.

"Yes. But I didn't find out until after the job was done-when we closed down our on-site work office, I remembered it. I opened the locker, but there was very little in there. A change of clothes. Another pair of work shoes. A denim jacket with a wallet with a few dollars, and a key in the pocket. And a Christmas card signed 'your sister Lucy.' I thought it was odd that he left those items, but I was too busy to give it any more thought."

Jack and I look at each other. "So," I say, "it can be a.s.sumed the key was his house key and Mr. Blake wouldn't have left without his wallet before going home that night."

"Anything might have happened," Jack comments. "Maybe it was an attempted robbery. Or someone thought he could steal equipment and this man, Blake, tried to stop him."

"Do you still have the things from his locker?" I ask.

Stanley smiles. "Does not a pack rat save everything? I am such a pack rat. Actually it's in a storage locker that Esther has been asking me to empty for years." He shrugs, guiltily, as if to say "You know how it is."

Jack says, "Get whatever you have to the station. They have a good forensic lab. His stuff might be of some help."

"I will," Stanley agrees. "Then maybe it will prove to my wife that I'm not just a shmegegge. shmegegge."

I laugh. "No way are you a fool, Mr. Stanley Heyer!"

The phone rings. I excuse myself and answer. It's for Jack. I hand him the phone. He listens briefly and tells me he's wanted down at the station. They have work for him.

Jack kisses me good-bye. In front of Stanley. But Stanley is lost in his thoughts.

"See you tonight, gorgeous," Jack says, on his way out.

Stanley gets up. "I should not take up any more of your time. But my conscience is bothering me that I didn't look into this. He must have had family-this sister Lucy-who never knew what happened to him. At least let me make it up to them. Find out who they are and let me inform them."

He looks at me with an expression of pain. "I

won't sleep well until I know I have done my duty to the poor man."

He looks so forlorn standing there beseeching me with his eyes.

"I'll try, Stanley. I will."

Needless to say, the girls are standing right outside my door as Stanley leaves. They waited until Jack left and now the coast was clear. They greet Stanley as they rush inside.

"So? How are things?" Sophie cuts right to the chase as she sits down at my kitchen table and helps herself to a bagel. "We just happened to see Jack leaving."

Bella adds, grinning, "And he was whistling."

"Things are just fine," I answer, taking cream cheese and b.u.t.ter from the fridge and setting them on the table. One severe look from me means this subject is off-limits and that's that.

Ida leans against the kitchen door and gives me one of her raised-eyebrow looks, but I'm telling nothing.

"I wish I could say the same," Evvie kvetches as she pours her own cup of coffee. "Joe is making me nuts. 'Should I fix the venetian blinds? Should I take down the boards in the Florida room? Should I do this, do that?' I wish he'd leave me alone."

Bella huffs. "I'll change places with you in a minute. That Dora is driving me up a wall. Why don't you have strawberry jam? What kind of apartment doesn't have cable? Could you run to the store right now, I need my pills . . ."

Sophie jumps in. "I told Bella to ask for rent."

Bella says, "And what does my new boarder say? Her checkbook is in her apartment, her destroyed apartment."

Sophie again: "So we tell her she can always go to the bank."

Bella: "And she says her bankbook is gone, too."

"I hate to break in on all your miseries," I announce. "But we have a new job."

The girls stop, mid-chewing. I have their immediate attention and I fill them in on Stanley's a.s.signment.

Ida asks, "How can we find out about something that happened so long ago?"

"Especially with practically no information at all," Sophie comments.

Evvie says, "First stop, our girls in Gossip. If anybody can track someone down, Barbi and Casey can."

"Wonderful," says Bella. "At least it will get me out of the apartment."

"Ditto," says Evvie.

26.

Goings On

We watch Irving and Yolie bring Millie out of his apartment. Millie smiles brightly and waves to us even though she doesn't remember who we are. It's heartbreaking to think back on the dear lady she once was. Always positive and interested in everything around her. A good friend when you needed one. She and Irving were crazy about each other. Now here is this sh.e.l.l of a person; her vacant smile has no substance behind it.

As much as Irving wants to keep her home, Millie needs round-the-clock hospital care. As wrenching as it is, Irving must take her back.

We all take turns hugging a giggling Millie, trying to put a good face on how we really feel.

Just as she is about to be helped into Irving's battered car, she swivels, startled, as if she were waking from a dream. She looks around, suddenly seeming to know where she is. "Irving?" she says, reaching out to touch him. He jumps, shocked. It is Millie again, come back.

One of us gasps. I think it is Sophie, but I don't turn to see. We are mesmerized.

Millie clutches at Irving's shirt. "Don't let them put me in a box. Promise!"

He leans his head into hers. "I won't. I promise." Through his tears, he hugs her.

Then, as if a light went off, she is the Alzheimer patient once again. Lost and bewildered. Irving and Yolie help her into the car.

Irving sobs. "It's like losing her all over again. She was so happy to be home."

We stand there silently, as we watch the car pull away.

We remain near Irving's apartment tearfully, arms around one another.

But suddenly Tessie says, "Look, there's Bingo Bob. He's back at last." Bingo is the nickname of our mailman, who spends all his free time with his wife in the bingo parlors. Well, it's something to take our minds off Millie.

We hurry toward our mailboxes. Hooray. It's been days and we've missed our mail delivery. He tries to fill the boxes while the girls are eagerly grabbing their mail out of his hands before he can even insert the envelopes.

"Neither rain nor sleet can stop the U.S. Postal Service," Bob emotes in his high-pitched voice.

"Yeah," says Ida. "But a hurricane can.""We're very glad to see you," Sophie says. "How are you doing at bingo?"

"The Indian casinos are shut down 'til further notice," he reports grimly. "Even the churches are too busy these days."

Sophie groans. "Now, that's bad news. I was looking forward to playing."

As I flip through my mail, a familiar square white envelope catches my eye.

I beckon the girls to join me. Away from listening ears. We head for our usual picnic table. Sure enough, it's from our old friend Grandpa Bandit. I rip open the envelope.

Ida comments, "I wondered if we'd ever hear from him again. What's the old geezer got to say this time?"

I read, " 'Happy you all survived the storm. Back to business-if we don't get hit with another hurricane. First I got to get my car running. Getting old is not for sissies. But the good news is: The older you get, the more money your old junk will be worth on eBay. Further instructions to come.' "

The familiar green feather is enclosed.

Sophie stamps her feet. "The postmark is Fort Lauderdale. He lives in Lanai Gardens. I just know it. Let's get a list of all the cars that need fixing." She stops, realizing how impractical that is, since all the cars were affected.

Ida says, "But who could it be? He doesn't sound like any of the men who live here."

Evvie shrugs. "Even with six Phases, we haven't met everyone. It's easy for someone to keep a low profile."

Bella says, "Round 'em all up and we'll drill 'em 'til we suss him out."

We look at her, amused at her vehemence. "Yeah," says Ida, "great idea."

As we head out for Gossip, I glance up, to see Enya moving along on her balcony, toward the laundry room, carrying her basket. I wonder if she's had a chance to talk to her new neighbor, Abe. Evvie looks to me and winks. I know we share a feeling. Maybe these two people can reach out to each other-they, who have known so much pain, and have history in common.

27.

Neighbors

From outside, Enya hears the sound of the whirling dryer. With her basket firmly placed under her left arm, she opens the door with her right. She moves toward a vacant washer and stops abruptly.

Abe Waller is standing near the dryer, his empty basket on a plain brown wooden chair under a small unframed mirror. This is a utilitarian room with just the basics: two washers, one dryer, and a sorting table. The room is steamy and too warm. There is no air-conditioning in here. But one small louvered window, half-open, lets in a small breeze.

She is taken aback to see him, immediately uncomfortable. She hopes her new neighbor doesn't feel he has to speak to her. For a moment she is motionless, but poised to flee. Enya's eyes glance downward, to avoid looking directly at this large, overwhelming man. He is new to the building and won't know she does not make small talk to anyone, let alone strangers. She starts to leave, saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't know the room was occupied."