Getting Old Is Criminal (32 page)

I hug them all. “See you later.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be waiting.” Ida actually has tears in her eyes. “Good luck.”

The huge conference room in the Fort Lauderdale police station is filled. The task force from all over the state and from Georgia, as well, listen to everything I report. The most chilling moments are watching actor Ray Sullivan, playing Philip Smythe, murdering one of the cast member “widows” on video.

Hearing him say, “‘Parting is such sweet sorrow,’” as he pushes the actress under the bubbles in the tub, horrifies me. I could imagine how it was for Esther Ferguson at the last moments of her life.

And now I am told what the task force has found. Widow after widow dying suddenly at the end of Philip/Ray’s planned stays at each retirement home. They’ve already discovered seven so far. Unlucky women who had no families, so no one raised any questions. When Esther Ferguson’s family showed up, Philip must have panicked.

She’d hidden the fact of her family by changing her mailbox address, but when Alvin and Shirley came to visit unexpectedly, that sealed Esther’s fate.

That was his fatal mistake. He panicked. He G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 3 2 1

should have left Esther alive. But he was too rigidly set in his patterns.

And none of these retirement complexes ever dug deep enough to see these coincidental deaths. I shudder. They are still searching. How many more will there be? Evvie, oh, Evvie, we’ve got to get you out of there.

Oz Washington comes over to congratulate me.

He sees how nervous I am. “I’m worried about getting my sister out safely.”

“It will be all right,” he tells me. “I make fun of my bud, Morrie, but he’s one hell of a good cop.”

“Can I have that in writing?”

He pats me on the shoulder and joins the others.

They are all action now. Gathering up materials, conferring with one another, making phone calls.

Morrie walks over to me. “By the way, about his aunt Dorothy? He didn’t kill her. He was away at boarding school.”

“That’s a surprise. I was so sure he did it.

Morrie,” I ask, looking at my watch, “it’s already nearly three o’clock. When are we going up to Palm Beach?”

“Tonight. Late.”

This upsets me. “Why?” I want to go now.

“Because we decided it was better to move in fast, with everyone asleep; Ray Sullivan should be off guard and hopefully we can pull him out of his apartment without many people aware of it. Hope Watson and Donald Kincaid will let us in.”

That is if Evvie doesn’t start screaming and 3 2 2 • R i t a L a k i n

wake the entire place. The plan is sensible, but I am very nervous. I feel Evvie needs me. Now.

*

*

*

“Dearest, wake up. Please. It’s almost four.” Evvie
shakes Philip’s shoulders gently.

He pushes her away. “Tired,” he mumbles into
his pillow.

She starts to pull the drapes.

“No,” he shouts. “No light.”

She knows how badly he slept last night. In fact,
for the last few nights, it seemed like he was having
more and more headaches. And more nightmares.

She is about to open the door and go downstairs, but she hesitates. The last thing she wants is
to run into that cop, Donald. Something is very
wrong in her room with Philip—and outside as
well. Something is brewing. Part of her wants to
confront this stranger, and another part doesn’t
want to believe her imaginings. Maybe Donald is
just what he said—a guard at Wal-Mart.

Evvie picks up the phone and orders room service.

*

*

*

The day drags on. I twiddle my thumbs while the cops continue to discuss their plans. They have maps of the facility and they are marking routes.

When they need to know something about the lay-out of Wilmington House, they call me. Otherwise, I’m left on my own.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 3 2 3

*

*

*

Evvie doesn’t know what to do. He woke up for a
while, took some pills, then went back to sleep
again. The food she ordered for him was cold now.

She thinks she might read, but the light would
bother him, and she won’t leave him.

She finds herself thinking of Gladdy. She wonders where she is. She needs to talk to her sister.

Maybe she can call from the kitchen, but she’s
afraid Philip will wake up and catch her.

*

*

*

I go for a walk. My fingers itch to pick up the phone and call Evvie. I want to tell her to get out of there. Now! But if Philip is right there next to her . . . What if something goes wrong? What if she gets hurt?

When I get back, dinner is brought in. Everything tastes like cardboard to me. I can’t eat.

*

*

*

He finally wakes up.

“Are you all right? Evvie asks.

“My migraine’s really bad today. Nothing much
to do but try to keep very quiet until it’s over.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Just sit here by my side.”

“I will.”

He closes his eyes again.

There is nothing for her to do but think, and her
3 2 4 • R i t a L a k i n

thoughts are troubling. Something is the matter
with him. She can’t keep pretending there isn’t.

She’s been feeling this for some time now, but resisted its implications. It’s as if Philip is at war with
himself. And it’s coming out in his dreams. It’s important, but her mind won’t reveal it to her. Maybe
it’s because she’s afraid to know.

*

*

*

I come back to Morrie’s office. It’s empty. I have such a headache. I didn’t really sleep much last night, so I lie down on his small couch for a few minutes.

The next thing I’m aware of is Oz gently shaking me. I leap up. It’s actually dark out.

“I can’t believe I slept.”

“You needed the rest.”

“Are we going?”

“Yes. Everyone’s outside ready to roll.”

*

*

*

Evvie convinces Philip to eat a little dinner.

“This is not fun for you.” He pats her hand.

“I don’t mind. Philip, dear, I know something is
bothering you. Can’t you share it with me? Maybe
I can help.”

He looks at her and she can’t read his expression. His eyes grow dark and distant. Then he
smiles. “Whatever are you talking about?”

Oh, Philip. Why are you lying to me?

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 3 2 5

Evvie is utterly exhausted. She lies down beside
him and falls asleep

*

*

*

At last, we arrive at Wilmington House. The trip seemed endless to me. Everyone is taking posi-tions.

“Stay in the car, Glad.” The night air is cool.

Morrie hands me his jacket to keep warm.

I take the jacket, but I jump out. “No way am I waiting here. I’m going with you.” I grab on to his arm. “Don’t even try to talk me out of this.”

FIFTY-ONE

PHILIP AND R AY

P
hilip is thrashing from one side of the bed to
the other. It wakes Evvie, surprised to see she
has fallen asleep in her clothes.

He leaps from the bed and crashes into the wall.

Evvie gasps, fearing he hurt himself. She hurries to
him as he starts banging his fists against the wall
shouting over and over again. “Die, damn you,
Ray, die!”

She tries to pull him away from the wall.

“Philip, wake up. Phil, darling.” His body writhes
with some inner frenzy. She pulls her hands away.

They’re covered in his sweat. She doesn’t know
what to do. Finally she fills a glass of water from
the bathroom sink and throws it in his face.

That stops him. He wakes up and looks at her,
startled. It takes a few minutes for him to come to
G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 3 2 7

himself. He smiles crookedly. “Did I wake you
from your beauty sleep?” He put his hands to his
aching head and moans.

“Do you want your pills?

He shakes his head and sits down on the edge of
the bed.

“The migraines are getting worse. Darling, it’s
time to see a doctor.”

“No! No doctor.”

“Is it me? Am I causing you the nightmares?”

He reaches out to her and she comes and sits
next to him. Philip puts his arm around her shoulder. “I actually think so.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s different. Because it’s you that’s
different. You’re not like any of the others.”

“The other dying old ladies,” she says ruefully.

“I didn’t love the others. It was playacting. I
pretended to love them so they would die in peace.

I can’t do that any longer. I’m not pretending anymore. I love you, Evelyn. I never expected that to
happen.”

His body shudders against hers. She holds him
tightly.

“I’m not dying, Phil, dearest.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear her. “You’re my
only cure. You’re the only one who can save me.

The actor is dead. Long live . . . long live . . .” She
can feel his tears running down both their faces.

Evvie takes a deep breath. “My darling. Long
live who? Long live Ray? Who is Ray?”

3 2 8 • R i t a L a k i n

His eyes blaze. Suddenly she sees the rage come
over him. He throws her to the floor, and stands
up. “Damn you! Damn you to hell!”

Evvie lies there petrified.

“Ray is dead!”

She crawls away from him slowly, never taking
her eyes off him, as he paces the room. He reminds
her of a tiger. About to pounce.

“Why did you have to mention his name? Now
I have to kill you.”

Evvie manages to slide up and sit down on the
edge of the bed, next to the phone. She tries not to
move. She’s beginning to understand it now.

“Ray didn’t want to kill them. Not him, not Mr.

Goody Two-shoes. He wanted them alive and
happy. I wanted them happily dead. Like her.”

“You mean Aunt Dorothy?”

He looks at her sharply. His voice is rough, his
breathing shallow. “I was so angry at her. The
things she did to me. She tortured me. It gave her
pleasure. Who could I tell? Who would believe
me? When she got sick I thought I could get away.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her. She demanded
I wait on her constantly. But when things got very
bad, her doctor insisted she send me away. So I
never had my revenge. The crazy old bitch died
while I was away. She burned down the house herself.”

“So you took it out on all the poor old lady
characters on
World of Our Dreams?”

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 3 2 9

That stops his pacing; he turns to her, startled.

“You knew? How long have you known?”

Evvie sighs. “Only a few minutes. I finally remembered where I’d seen you. I remembered a
soap opera I used to watch.”

“Daytime serial. Glory Hill would have a fit if
she heard you call it a soap opera.” He laughs
madly at the memory.

She speaks softly, evenly. “Who’s Ray?”

“Who’s Ray?” She says it louder.

He lunges toward her. Evvie braces herself.

“Stop it! He doesn’t exist anymore. I told you! I
killed him, too.”

“And Esther Ferguson. Real people like her?

And more. Did you kill all the old ladies you pretended to love?”

Evvie’s heart is pounding so hard, she’s afraid
she’ll have a heart attack before he has a chance to
murder her. She’s thinking fast. Is Donald Kincaid
outside again? She could try for the door. What
about the phone? He said call 505. What were her
chances of having time to dial?

As Philip reaches her, she kicks her legs out,
slamming into his stomach. He’s caught off guard
for a minute. She makes it to the door, but he’s too
fast for her. He grabs her and throws her down
once again.

Now she realizes that Donald tried to tell her he
was here to help her, and that the police knew and
were coming. Too late. They were going to be too
late.

3 3 0 • R i t a L a k i n

I’m going to die, she thinks.