Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 03 - Valentined (13 page)

“I think you snort it,” suggested Opal.

“I don’t want to know what to do with it, Opal!” replied
Essie.

“No,” offered Marjorie.  “I think you put it in a teaspoon
and hold it over a flame and then drink it!”

“I don’t care!” cried Essie.  “Detective!  Please!  Can you
talk to them?”

“Yes,” said Abbott.  “Let’s all sit down!”  He grabbed a
straight back chair from Essie’s desk and set it in the middle of the room. 
The women took their seats.  Abbott straddled the chair so he could see all
four women easily.  The women watched him and waited.

“Now, ladies,” he said.  “I wasn’t going to bring anyone
else into this except Miss Essie.  Obviously, she’s already involved so we
can’t really keep her out.  I was hoping not to involve any other residents
here at Happy Haven, but it’s clear that the four of you are all very close…”

“Humph!” snorted Essie, still peeved at Marjorie.

“And not only close, but it appears that all four of you are
as involved in Miss Essie’s secret admirer valentine as she is.  Just before
you arrived, I was explaining to Miss Essie how we wanted her to help us catch
this person here at Happy Haven who is apparently involved with this
Boston-based drug ring.  She has agreed to help and I hope the rest of you will
also agree to assist us.  Will you?”

The women looked at each other and then quickly nodded in
unison.

“Wonderful!” he said.  “Now…”

“Detective,” said Opal, interrupting his speech.  “Why do
you think this drug dealer sent this card to Essie?  Why didn’t he just send it
to the drug dealer?”

“As I’ve already explained to Essie,” said Abbott, “her name
is being used as a cover for protection in case the Post Office should become
suspicious and open the card.  If the true recipient’s name were placed on the
card, yes, it would get to the person faster, but with much greater risk.  This
way, the drug dealer here at Happy Haven has some way of knowing that the
Boston dealer is going to be sending the cocaine to Essie on a certain day and
he or she makes arrangements to intercept it before Essie receives it.  In this
case, he wasn’t successful.”

“That’s why he broke into my apartment and searched for it
yesterday!” said Essie.

“He did?” asked Opal.  “Did you catch him?”

“No,” said Essie, “but I know someone was here.  And if he
was looking for the valentine, he wouldn’t have found it because…”

“Because you always keep it in your walker basket!” said
Marjorie, finishing her sentence.

“Right!” noted Essie. 

“All of this supports our suspicions,” declared Abbott.  “If
you ladies have any other information that would apply to the valentine we
would love to hear it.”

“What about Betsy?” asked Opal, tapping her forehead. 

“Betsy?” asked Abbott.

“Oh, my!” cried Essie.  “I forgot about Betsy!”

“Who is Betsy?” asked Abbott a second time.

“Betsy Rollingford,” said Essie.  “She got a valentine from
a secret admirer last year.  We talked about our cards and from everything she
told me, her card was almost identical to mine.”

“We may want to speak with Betsy and look at her card,” said
Abbott, noting the woman’s name in his black notebook.

“That’s impossible!” said Essie.  “She displayed her card on
her television set when she got it and a day or so later, it was gone!  She told
me she looked everywhere for it and asked all over but she never found it.”

“Does anyone know this Betsy’s room number?” asked Abbott.

“Yes,” said Essie because she had learned where the woman’s
room was after their discussion at Bingo.  She provided the number and Abbott
directed Magee to quickly go and see if he could have Betsy Rollingford join
the group that had already gathered in Essie’s apartment.

“It might be a good idea,” suggested Essie, “if I give her a
call and warn her you’re on the way.  It might be pretty frightening to have a
policeman just appear at your door!  Unless you’re me, of course!”

Abbott gave permission and Essie made a brief phone call.

Chapter Sixteen

“Some cupids kill with arrows, some
with traps”

—Shakespeare

Not long after, Betsy Rollingford joined the group.  She sat
demurely on the armchair next to Detective Abbott and across from the sofa
where Marjorie and Opal were entrenched. 

“Miss Rollingford,” Abbott began after all the introductions
had been made.  “Miss Essie tells me that you received a valentine from a
secret admirer last year.”

“I did, Detective,” said Betsy with an unexpected
perkiness.  “Have you found it?”

“What?” asked Abbott.

“Have you found my valentine?” asked Betsy.  “It was stolen
soon after I received it.  I told Essie about it and now I see she’s brought in
the police.  I can only assume she reported it missing and you gentlemen are
hot on the trail.  So, have you found it?”  Betsy sat primly on the edge of the
chair, her hands folded in her lap.

“Um, no, we haven’t,” replied Abbott, looking back awkwardly
at Magee who remained at the door.  Magee gave him a shrug. 

“Well, then, what’s this all about?” asked Betsy with a
little punch of her hands on her lap. 

“Actually, Miss Rollingford,” said Abbott, “we asked you
down here because Miss Essie told us that you had received a valentine similar
to the one she received.”

“Yes,” said Betsy, “that is true.  Essie showed me her card
at Bingo and it looked very much like the one I received.”

“Did your card have a little heart on it like Essie’s?”
asked Abbott.

“Oh, yes!” replied Betsy.  “But mine was red, not pink like
Essie’s.  But it was very much the same size as Essie’s—at least from the short
look I got.  Isn’t it amazing that we both have secret admirers and that they
both sent us such similar cards?”  She giggled girlishly.

“You didn’t ever have the opportunity to look inside the
heart on your card, did you, Miss Rollingford?” asked Abbott.

“No,” said Betsy.  “Why would I want to do that?  Even if I
did, it was gone so soon after I put it up on my television.  I thought it was
a wonderful place to display it; I could see it every time I watched
Wheel
of Fortune.”

“Do you have any idea who took it?” asked Abbott.  “Do you
remember seeing anyone—one of the staff, another resident, a maintenance
worker—anyone who seemed particularly interested in your card?”

“No,” said Betsy, placing her hand against her forehead.  “I
just remember that it was gone soon after I put it up on my TV.”

“And you don’t know anyone who might have sent you this
card?  Someone from Boston?” he continued hammering away.

“No, Detective,” repeated Betsy firmly.  “It was from my
secret admirer.  If I knew who he was, I would tell you.  Besides, it’s more
romantic not to know, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Abbott, again with a glance at Magee
who remained speechless at the door.

Abbott looked up and away from Betsy Rollingford and
directed his attention to all of the women in the room.

“Have any of you other ladies every received a valentine, or
a greeting card of any sort from a secret admirer?  Or, more particularly, have
you ever received any type of correspondence that might have included some sort
of object that might have been filled with a substance as were these hearts in
these two valentines?”

“Substance?” asked Betsy suddenly.  “What are you talking
about?”

“Essie’s heart was full of cocaine,” announced Marjorie to
Betsy.

“Oh, no!” Betsy cried.  “You think my card had cocaine in it
too?”

“Of course he does, Betsy!” said Marjorie.  “That’s why he
brought you down here and asked you all those questions.”

“Now, ladies,” said Abbott, standing as intense discussion
broke out among the women.  Betsy seemed furious and frightened and the other
women all attempted to calm her at the same time.  “Please, ladies!  Let’s all
sit back down and discuss this calmly.”   When silence had settled, Abbott
resumed his seat.  Magee chuckled to himself.

“Detective,” Betsy said, “you think that my secret admirer
sent me drugs?”

“Not you, Miss Rollingford,” said Abbott.  “We believe that
these ‘secret admirers’ are actually a drug ring leader in Boston.  We’ve been
in contact with the Boston Police and we’re attempting to help them identify
this individual by first identifying the intended recipient of these valentines
here at Happy Haven.”

“He thinks it’s someone here,” said Essie.

“Like one of the staff or a kitchen worker,” added Opal.

“Or even a resident,” said Marjorie.

“I can’t believe a resident would be a drug kingpin,
Marjorie!” snarled Essie.  “It’s probably some outside worker.  One of those
men who come in to do the regular bug spraying or fix the heating.  They’re
always going in and out of our apartments.  A lot of them look real seedy. 
They look like drug lords.”

“And what does a drug lord look like, Essie?” asked Opal
with her knowing look.

“Like any of the men who wander in and out of our rooms,
Opal,” replied Essie.   “They could grab something from one of our apartments
and we’d never be the wiser.”

“Ladies!” said Abbott, again raising his arms in an attempt
to achieve order.  “That’s what we’re trying to determine.  That’s why we need
your help.  All of your help.”  He looked around pointedly from one woman to
another.

“What do you want us to do, Detective?” asked Marjorie, smiling
flirtatiously at Detective Abbott, her shoulder flounce particularly
noticeable.

“Several things,” said Abbott.  “First, and foremost, don’t
do anything to endanger yourselves.  If you even suspect anything or anyone, I
want you to contact me directly.”  At this point, he handed each woman a
business card.  “That’s my direct line.  Call me if you see anything that
concerns you.”

“Oh, I will,” said Marjorie, shoulders gyrating.

“Second,” said Abbott, obviously ignoring Marjorie’s
attempts at seduction, “if anyone should ask about the presence of the police,
the cover story is as we discussed.  Miss Essie contacted us because she was
being harassed by a telephone scammer.  That should explain our presence in her
apartment.  If anyone asks about the rest of you, you can say you were just
here to give Miss Essie moral support.”

“We can do that,” said Opal.

“Of course we can,” added Betsy.  Fay gave a little hand
gesture from her wheelchair to indicate that she too was on board with the
plan.

“And finally,” said Abbott, “don’t discuss the whereabouts
of your valentine, Miss Essie.”

“I don’t know its whereabouts!” Essie exclaimed.

“I know,” replied Abbott.  “We will be testing it in our lab
and running down any lead we can.  We really can’t return it.  I think it best
that you not tell people that you no longer have the card, but on the other
hand, I don’t want you to tell them that you do have it.  It’s too dangerous. 
Of course, he may think you have it, no matter what you say.”

“Should I say where I keep it?” Essie asked.  “If I say it’s
in my room, the crook will just wait until I’m out of my room to go look for it
and then I’ll never find out who it is.  If I say I have it in my basket, he’ll
know he won’t have a chance to get it because I always keep my walker with me.”

“Truthfully, Miss Essie,” said Abbott, “I wouldn’t do much
advertising of where the card is or isn’t.  I’d just play it coy, if you know
what I mean.”

“Not really,” scoffed Essie.  “I usually say what I mean.”

“But now, Miss Essie,” said Abbott with a flourish, “you’re
going to have to do some acting—if you want to help us catch this rascal!”

“Oh, she does, Detective!” said Marjorie, beaming.

“We can do this,” said Opal, seriously looking from one
friend to another.  “We just continue our lives as normal.  If someone asks
about Essie’s card, we say we really don’t know where it is—and we really don’t
know where it is.  If someone asks you, Essie, you can say it’s in a safe
place—and it is in a safe place.  You just don’t have to tell anyone that that
safe place is the police lab.”

“That makes sense,” said Essie, reflecting on Opal’s
sensible reasoning.

“It does,” said Abbott.  “How does that sound to the rest of
you?”  The remaining women nodded their agreement.

With the strategy devised, the women seemingly all breathed
a sigh of relief.  Abbott and Magee bid the five farewell with a final reminder
of the importance of keeping in touch.  Abbott also told them that an
undercover police officer would be keeping an eye on them in case they ran into
an emergency.  When the policemen had departed, the women broke out into a
riotous conversation.

“This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened at
Happy Haven,” announced Marjorie.

“Not to me,” noted Betsy Rollingford.  “I just wanted my
valentine back.”  She pouted but remained seated.

“You’re all being ridiculous,” said Opal.  “We need to snap
out of this!  Nothing has changed.  There is a slight possibility that we might
have an opportunity to aid the police in apprehending a criminal—but that possibility
is remote, so I suggest we just go about our business and forget entirely about
this little episode.”

“Opal,” cried Essie.  “You can forget it if you like!  But
this drug dealer and his little cocaine-filled valentine has wreaked havoc on
my life.  I sat in this chair for hours with that foul powder drenching my
trousers, not knowing whether or not I’d be dead before the police managed to
get to my door, not knowing whether I had exposed my darling granddaughter to
the horrible stuff, not knowing whether I had exposed you, and Marjorie, and
Fay, and all my other friends here at Happy Haven to some horrible poison!  I
can’t just forget it!  And I’m not going to forget it.  I’m going to find this
creature that did this to me and to all of us!”