Getting Old is a Disaster Part 32

Evvie throws her arms around Joe, laughing and crying at the same time. "My hero," she says, hugging him tightly.

I see Enya standing in the doorway, holding her breath.

"I'm all right," I tell her to allay her fears.

"The b.a.s.t.a.r.d came back early," Ida mutters. "Why?"

Joe tries to calm us as well as himself. "But it's okay, you got out safely. And you left everything the way it was. Right?"

"I think so," Ida says unsteadily.

Evvie stares down at her hands. "Oh, no," she cries out. We look at her, still clutching the small patch of cloth in her left hand. The small patch with its distinctive Iron Cross.

45.

Engaged

Hearing a commotion coming from down stairs, we hurry to the living room window and stare out and down. A group of people are gathered and chattering directly under us.

Ida says, "They're circling around Abe's car."

"Something's blocking our view. I can't see what it is," says Evvie.

Ida points. "Look over there. It's Abe. And he's talking to Jack!"

Abe is still downstairs? With Jack? What's going on?

Evvie rushes to the front door. "I can't stand it. I've got to see what's happening." She opens the door and rushes out onto the landing.

Ida and I are right behind her. Not only can we see, over the balcony, but we can easily hear. I feel Joe and Enya peeking over my shoulder. I can see Sophie and Bella standing near my car, watching anxiously.

Jack, my ex-cop, seems to be in charge. I hear him say to Abe, "I can't imagine how it happened." He looks around. "Anybody see how this big thing got here?"

What a sight before our eyes. A huge garbage Dumpster that, according to the letter on its side, belongs to R building has somehow managed to roll forward and smash the front of Abe's Pontiac, denting the hood severely.

Abe is angry, but he's trying to hide it. "How is it possible? That Dumpster is always at the side of the building. How could it get from there to here?"

Lots of surprised shrugs. Apparently, none of the gawkers had seen anything, since no one ventures forth with information.

Evvie whispers to me, "Jack must have done it. He stopped Abe from coming upstairs."

"Yes," I say, choked up. He might not have approved of what I was doing, but he wasn't about to let anything happen to me, either. But I shudder to think what would have happened if Jack hadn't been watching our backs. We've just had a very close call.

"I'm a witness," says a familiar voice behind me. I hadn't even heard Hy approach us from his apartment down the walkway.

We turn. "What?" I say, nervously.

Hy speaks very softly. "Your boyfriend is the culprit. I saw him roll the Dumpster over earlier, and as soon as Abe drove in Jack leaned down behind the Dumpster and pushed it hard. Anybody want to tell me what's going on?"

Oh, no, I think to myself. Not Hy, the town crier!

A chorus of six (which includes Joe) says in unison, "No!"

Hy performs a zipping motion across his lips. "No problem. Your secret is safe with me. If Jack is into car demolition, he must have a very good reason. Let me in on it when you're ready."

He pauses, and grins. "Here's a joke for you. Husband comes home. His wife's wearing a s.e.xy negligee and is all tied up with ropes. She says, seductively, 'You can do anything you want to do.' So he walks back out and goes to play golf." He laughs at his own joke. "I got dozens more. Saving 'em for tonight's engagement party!" With that he struts back toward his open door, where Lola stands watching.

Ida says, "I can hardly wait."

We hear Jack saying in a loud voice, "Just call your insurance company, Abe. Bye, see you later." He's warning us. Abe is climbing up the stairs. We scurry back inside, fast!

Once inside, Joe asks, "What do we do now?"

"Talk to your Jack," Enya says. "He'll know."

I lie on my couch with a cold compress on my eyes and forehead. I have a bad headache that makes me see stars; it hurts that much. My left eye keeps twitching and it won't stop. Jack brings me another wet towel to exchange for the one I have.

"Feel any better?" he asks.

"No," I groan.

"Maybe if we talk about it, your pain will go away."

"Ouch," I mutter. "I doubt it."

"You can't go to your party like this, so let's try. I'll start first. I want to tell you how I I feel. Waiting helplessly downstairs while I knew you were in Abe's apartment reminded me of Faye. I finally truly understand-I mean, I thought I understood, but I didn't, viscerally-what Faye felt all those years being married to a cop. She told me she would worry every day, with panic rising-would I come home, still in one piece, or would it be one of my pals from the precinct at the door, to tell her how I died." feel. Waiting helplessly downstairs while I knew you were in Abe's apartment reminded me of Faye. I finally truly understand-I mean, I thought I understood, but I didn't, viscerally-what Faye felt all those years being married to a cop. She told me she would worry every day, with panic rising-would I come home, still in one piece, or would it be one of my pals from the precinct at the door, to tell her how I died."

I lift the compress and turn my throbbing head to see him better.

"Today, I was Faye. Waiting to see if you came out alive. I couldn't stand it. In all my years as a cop, I was never as afraid as I was this morning."

I weakly reach over to take his hand in mine. "I'm sorry I put you through that. But I felt I had to do it. And we succeeded. We have proof. Finally." I look at him, pleadingly. "Doesn't the end justify the means?"

"Glad, that's not the point. It could have ended very badly, and-"

I interrupt. "But didn't you push the Dumpster into his car? And bought us time to escape? Wouldn't you say you broke the law a bit, too? Didn't the end justify the means then, too?"

He sits me down and pulls me close. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if I lost you."

"Please say you forgive me. Please?"

He crushes me closer. "I do, but promise never to scare me like that again."

"I do. I do." We rock back and forth in each other's arms. This is no time to tell him about how I got scratches on my body.

A few moments later, he asks, "How's the headache? How do you feel now?"

I think about it. My headache is nearly gone. "Better. Much better."

I kiss him long and hard. "I absolutely give you permission to save my life any chance you get."

I make two phone calls.

"Morrie. Big news. We have the proof we need on Abe." I fill him in on the iron cross without mentioning where and how I got it-later for that. And also about Abe's plane reservations.

Morrie says, "I'll alert the airline not to let him on the plane tonight."

"You've got to catch him before he can get out of the country."

"I'm on it," Morrie says.

The second call is to Stanley. "Can you meet us

at the clubhouse an hour before our party? Without Esther?"

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Yes," I say. "Something is very wrong."

We need to inform Stanley before the police do.

46.

Showdown

So here we are in the clubhouse, dressed in our finest. We, who live in sundresses and shorts, had to dig through our closets for c.o.c.ktail dresses and heels. I'm wearing a peach organza dress, last worn for my daughter Emily's wedding, in New York. It still fits, thank goodness. Evvie is wearing a multi-colored caftan-type dress, all swirly, with lots of folds. Sophie and Bella have matching lemon and lime outfits they bought for a bar mitzvah years ago. Sophie tugs at her dress, realizing she's gained a few pounds since the last time she wore it.

And Ida-well, Ida owns one basic black dress, and that's that. We were going to go shopping, but what with Enya's problem, we decided to make do with what we had. Frankly, I'm just as pleased. I confess, I don't like shopping. And besides, Jack, having never seen me dressed up, whistled when I modeled the peach number to get his opinion.

Jack looks wonderful in a dark suit and tie. Joe, who insists he threw out every tie he owned when he moved here, wears a sports jacket.

We're surrounded by cheerful decorations put up by an energetic, romantic group of Phase Two friends. Lots of balloons and greeting cards with congratulations. There is a large shoji-type screen off to one side with smiling photos they've gathered of me, then Jack, then both of us together. The catered food sits on tables, waiting for the party to begin.

We may be dressed for a party but anxiety is the group emotion. The seven of us are standing, facing the front door, waiting for Stanley. Enya, dressed simply in a beige dress, sits on a chair, all by herself, away from us. There is a strange kind of calm about her. What must she be thinking?

Stanley will arrive any minute. I'm not looking forward to breaking this man's heart.

There's the expected knock on the door and Stanley enters, a puzzled look on his face. "Esther doesn't know why she should stay home and I come an hour earlier."

"You'll explain later," I tell him.

Stanley looks from one face to another. He sees worry, concern, fear, nervousness. "I better sit down." He uses one of the folding chairs facing us. "You all look like somebody died."

Jack moves behind me and rubs my shoulders. I take a deep breath. "Someone did die, but it was fifty years ago. And we found his skeleton recently."

Stanley is ready to smile. "You've solved it, haven't you?" He half stands, about to come forward. "Congratulations."

"Don't!" Evvie blurts. "Please sit back down."

Startled, Stanley lowers his body once more, worry furrowing his brows.

I go on. "Stanley, dear, I have to warn you, it's taken us a while to be able to believe what we now know, and I expect it will be very difficult for you to accept. But we found proof."

Bella nervously needs to get water from the drinks table. I wait until she comes back. This time, she takes a seat. I can see her trembling.

"You know the name of the dead body?" Stanley asks eagerly.

"Yes." I close my eyes for a moment, not wanting to see the expression that will be on his face in a moment. "Abe Waller."

A deadly silence sinks in. Sophie gasps as Stanley clutches the sides of the flimsy wooden chair for support. His face has gone pale.

Bella rushes forward to give him her water, but he shakes his arms in refusal.

"What do you mean?" He is alarmed now. "What can you possibly mean?"

I twist around to Jack and indicate that he should take over.

"It means," Jack says, "that the man who murdered Johnny Blake in Tampa, and took his ident.i.ty, murdered another man, that night at your construction site. His next victim was a survivor of the camps who tracked down the n.a.z.i who killed his family-"

A new voice interrupts, "Very bad manners to talk about a person behind his back."

We all spin around quickly, to see an unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. He enters and shuts the door behind him. It takes a few moments to realize the large, slightly bent over, clean shaven, no longer bearded man, sporting a barber-styled haircut and wearing a tan suit and tie, is the man we've known as Abe Waller. Now that I can see the face, it's an ordinary face, but it reveals hardness. He's no longer wearing gla.s.ses, and the scar that circles his left eye is faded, but still identifiable. I glance at his hands and, to my horror, he's wearing the signet ring.