Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (12 page)

“And you think I can help?” she asked.

“We do,” replied Magee softly. 

“We think you’d be the key to solving this mystery,” added
Abbott.  “So far, we believe we’ve been fairly discreet in our comings and
goings.  But just in case, we’re going to use a cover story that we want you to
use too in case anyone asks why the police were visiting you.  Just say that
the police came to answer your call for help regarding an insurance phone
scam.  How does that sound?”

“Fine.  I can say that.  Do you think this person might hurt
me or anyone here at Happy Haven?” she asked cautiously.

“Highly unlikely,” said Abbott, again cracking his
knuckles.  “Whoever this person is, they don’t want to jeopardize their set-up
here by exposing themselves to you.  So, will you help us, Miss Cobb?”

“I guess so,” she said.  “Will I need a gun?”

The men laughed and smiled at each other.

“No, Essie,” said Magee.  “No pistol for you.”

“What we need from you is information,” said Abbott, pulling
out a small black notebook and a pencil.  “So put your thinking cap on and see
what you remember.”

“My thinking cap is always on, Detective,” Essie said,
rolling her eyes.  “What do you need to know?”

The two officers proceeded to quiz Essie about the
particulars of the card and when she had received it.  Essie informed them
about all of her movements since the moment she’d pulled the envelope from her
mailbox until the moment when she discovered the white powder in the little
heart. 

“So, you would say that many people here at Happy Haven are
aware that you received this valentine?” asked Abbott, ready to note Essie’s
response in his notebook.

“I can’t imagine there’s anyone who lives at Happy Haven who
hasn’t heard about it from me directly or from someone else,” she said.

“Hmmm,” said Magee, looking over at Abbott. 

“And, of course, someone searched my room,” added Essie.

“What?” asked Abbott.  “You think your room was searched?”

“Yes,” replied Essie.  “I came back to my apartment and I
noticed that things were not in the places they were supposed to be.  Nothing
was missing.”

“You’re sure?” asked Magee.

“Oh, I’m sure,” said Essie.  “It’s just that it appeared
that someone had moved my things around.  I think they were trying to find the
valentine, but they couldn’t because I had it with me.  I’ve kept it with me
ever since I got it.  Safe in my walker basket.”

The men stared at each other.

“Miss Cobb,” said Abbott, “we’re going to have someone keep
an eye on you.  An undercover agent.  You won’t be aware of the person, but
they’ll be around if you need them.  I don’t like the idea of someone searching
your room.”  He cracked his knuckles even louder.  Essie surmised that the more
worried he became, the louder he cracked.

“I don’t either!” said Essie.  “I don’t like people messing
with my things!”

“So,” continued Abbott, “we want you to just go about your
daily activities as if nothing is different.  You can talk about the valentine
if you want to but obviously, don’t mention calling us.”

“But you have the card and the envelope now,” she said. 
“Before, I could show it to people.  The ladies here really liked seeing it. 
It was from a secret admirer, you know!”  Essie smiled proudly.

“Yes,” said Abbott, “a clever ploy on the part of the
dealer.  If anyone from the Post Office opened the letter, it looked innocuous.
“

“You can pretend you have the card,” suggested Magee, “even
if you don’t.”

Essie thought about his idea and nodded.

“Hmm,” she said.  “I guess I can.  No one needs to know it’s
not in my basket anymore.  I can still talk about it as if it’s there.”   She
reached over to her walker and patted the seat.

“So, Miss Cobb,” continued Abbott, laying out his plan, “we
want you to just go about your daily routine.  Don’t do anything different or
anything that might draw attention to yourself or to the valentine.  We will be
keeping an eye on you and if anyone tries to get into your basket, we’ll stop
them.”

“That is very reassuring, Detective,” said Essie. 

“We will do our part,” said Magee, cautiously, “but, Essie,
you have to do your part if we’re going to catch this person.  Don’t you take
any crazy chances.”

“Why would I do that, Officer?” asked Essie.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he laughed.  “I’ve only known you for a
little while, but I already have the feeling that nobody takes advantage of
you.  You’re obviously one smart cookie!”

“I hope you’re right,” replied Essie.  “And I hope that we
can work together and catch this drug dealer.”

At that, there was a loud knock on Essie’s front door.

“Now who?” she moaned.  The policemen looked at each other. 
Abbott nodded to Magee who rose and peeked out the door.

“Essie!” cried both Marjorie and Opal standing in the
doorway.  Fay was positioned behind them in her wheelchair.  Marjorie ignored
the man clutching the door and forced it open. 

“Where’s Essie?” she demanded.  The two women rolled their
walkers in, followed by Fay in her wheelchair.  Magee was almost thrown against
Essie’s small sink.

“Essie,” said Opal when she saw Essie sitting in her
recliner.  “Are you all right?  When you didn’t show up for lunch, we all
became worried that you might be sick!”

“Or in trouble!” exclaimed Marjorie, glaring back at Magee
who was cowering at the sink.

Opal stared at Abbott sitting on Essie’s couch.

“Who are these men, Essie?” she demanded.

“You see, Officers,” said Essie calmly, speaking to both
policemen.  “I have a lot of good back-up.”

“Officers!” cried Marjorie from the center of the room. 
“Have you been arrested, Essie?  Don’t worry!  We’ll defend you!”

“I haven’t been arrested, Marjorie!” replied Essie, arms up
in the air.  “Calm down.”

Abbott rose and motioned for the three women to take seats. 
He nodded to Magee to shut Essie’s front door.

“What is going on?” asked Opal, seated on the small sofa
next to Marjorie.  Fay wheeled over to the far end of the sofa.

“I’m a special agent!” proclaimed Essie proudly.

Chapter Fifteen

“Love is not blind—it sees more, not
less. But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.”

—Rabbi Julius Gordon

“Umm,” said Abbott, “Miss Cobb, I’m not sure it’s advisable
to discuss….”

“Detective,” said Essie pointedly to the man who was now
standing.  “These women are my three best friends.  I share everything with
them.  They know all about the valentine.  In fact, they helped me find out
most of what I know about it.  There is no way I can keep them in the dark
about all of this.”

“All of what, Essie?” asked Marjorie.  Opal and Fay also
stared at Essie, expecting a response.  Essie looked back at Abbott, with a
pleading expression on her face.

Finally, as the four women scowled at him, he threw up his
arms.  “Oh, all right!  I guess it’s too late to keep them out of it now!”  He
moved over to the armchair where his coat was draped and sat down, scrunching
the two stuffed animals resting on the seat cushion.  A deep sigh escaped his
mouth.

Magee remained at the door, an almost imperceptible smile on
his face.  It was obvious to Essie that he hadn’t seen his superior in such a
disgruntled form before. 

As Abbott slunk into Essie’s armchair, Marjorie and Opal sat
up straighter.  Eyeing the man, they quickly turned their attention to Essie.

“What’s this about your valentine, Essie?” asked Opal.

“Why are the police interested in a card from your secret
admirer?” Marjorie chimed in.

“My, oh my!” cried Essie.  “I can’t believe this is all
happening!”

“Start at the beginning,” said Opal.

“Now why should I do that, Opal?” sneered Essie.  “If I
start at the beginning, it would be a waste of time.  You all know what
happened from the beginning because I told you all about it.  How I got this
valentine from a secret admirer.  Then you all helped me try to find out who he
was.”

“Actually, Fay did most of that,” noted Marjorie, smiling
over at Fay.  “If it hadn’t been for her, we wouldn’t have discovered that the
return address on the envelope was fictitious and there was no such place in
Boston.”

“And don’t forget,” added Opal, “that Fay found out on the
Internet that the company that supposedly made this greeting card didn’t
exist.  That’s what led you to begin to think that it was homemade.”

“What?” asked Abbott, perking up from his chair.  “You
ladies actually researched this valentine when you received it?”

“Of course, Detective,” said Essie.  “Didn’t I tell you? 
Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we’re slow!”

“Who thinks we’re slow?” demanded Opal.

“And I told you that my granddaughter Mindy believed that
the card was homemade, Detective!” added Essie.

“What were you saying about the company that made the card?”
Abbott asked.

“Fay researched it online,” said Opal finally, in her
authoritative tone.

“And Fay is?” he asked, looking around.   The silent lady in
the wheelchair raised her hand sheepishly and smiled at Abbott.

“And you found…?” he prompted her.

“Oh, Fay doesn’t talk, Detective,” interjected Marjorie. 
“But she knows what’s going on, believe me!”

“That’s for sure,” added Essie, smiling warmly at Fay.

“And what did she find?” Abbott redirected his question to
the other women.

“She found that there is no Boston Bell Greeting Card
Company,” announced Opal, regally.  “That was the name in the logo on the back
of the card.”

“Where is the card, Essie?” asked Marjorie.

“They took it to the lab,” replied Essie.

“Why?” asked Opal.  “Why do the police care about the
identity of your secret admirer?”

“Oh, not because of the secret admirer,” replied Essie. 
“Because of the cocaine!”

“The what?” cried Marjorie.

“Cocaine?” shouted Opal.

“Ladies!  Please!” said Abbott in a pronounced whisper. 
“Keep your voices down!”  He looked over at Magee who was still manning the
door.

“Why would someone send Essie cocaine?” asked Marjorie. 
Then, suddenly, her demeanor changed.  “Oh, my, Essie!  Are you a drug addict?”

“Of course not, Marjorie!” replied Essie, annoyed.  “How
could you think such a thing?”

“You mean your secret admirer was trying to get you hooked
on illegal drugs, Essie?” asked the ever thoughtful Opal.

“No!” cried Essie.  “If you all would just be quiet for a
minute and let me explain, you’ll understand!  I didn’t know about the cocaine,
actually.  I was just sitting here in my chair examining the card.  I kept
thinking that the more I knew about how it was made, the greater the likelihood
that I might be able to identify my secret admirer.  After all, Mindy did
suggest that the card was actually made by the same person who sent it.  So, I
figured that since my secret admirer made this card, I might learn something
about him if I…well…took it apart.”

“Oh,” said Marjorie softly. 

“The little heart,” added Opal.

“Yes,” said Essie, nodding.  “I got out my nail file and I
carved open a small opening in the back of the heart and some of the stuffing
fell out on my lap.  I expected to see sand or salt or foam rubber or something
similar.  But instead I saw all this very fine, white powder.  The only thing
that came to mind was….”

“Poison!” exclaimed Marjorie.

“You mean you thought someone had sent poison to you in the
mail?” asked Opal.   “That seems a little far-fetched.”

“Well, what would you have thought, Opal, if all this white
stuff had puffed out onto you?  It’s one thing to chastise me now, but I bet if
it was you and you were all alone, you would have thought the same thing.” 
Essie puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms in annoyance.  

“Now, ladies,” said Abbott.  “It doesn’t really matter what
Miss Cobb was thinking or what you…Miss Opal…might have done.  What matters
is what actually happened.  And that Miss Cobb called us.  And lucky that she
did.  If she hadn’t, we would not have discovered the cocaine in this card and
this drug ring would continue on unabated.”

“Drug ring?” asked Marjorie.  “You mean a drug ring here at
Happy Haven?”

“At least a part of it,” replied Abbott.  “We believe the
hub is located in Boston.”

“See!” cried Marjorie.  “That’s where your envelope was sent
from, Essie!”

“I know, Marjorie,” replied Essie.  “It’s postmarked
Boston.”

“Maybe now the police can figure out that indecipherable
return address,” suggested Opal.

“No,” said Abbott.  “That return address is indecipherable
for a reason.  The sender doesn’t want anyone to decipher it.”

“I understand, Detective,” said Marjorie.  “But I still
don’t understand why this drug dealer in Boston sent this cocaine to Essie. 
Essie may be a little weird…”

“Really, Marjorie!” cried Essie.

“Well, you are unusual, Essie,” replied Marjorie.  “Even you
would have to agree with that!”

“I’m not a drug addict!” exclaimed Essie.  Opal lifted a
finger as if she had an idea.   “And I’m not a drug dealer either, Opal! 
Really!  I would think my three best friends would have more faith in me!”

“If it’s any help,” noted Abbott, still in the center of the
room, seemingly trying to manage the flow of information and at the same time
extract any additional information, “we don’t suspect Miss Cobb…Essie…of any
involvement in this drug ring at all.”

“There!” cried Essie.  “I hope that clears it up for you,
Marjorie!”

“Why me?” asked Marjorie, flouncing.  “Opal was just as
curious as I was!”

“Never mind,” said Essie.  “As it is, I wouldn’t have any
idea what to do with cocaine even if I did recognize it on my lap.”