Baby Bunco Page 5

  “Did Bobby have a girlfriend?”

  Mildred let out a nervous giggle. “Why on earth do you wish to know that?”

  Ethel waggled her head back and forth. “No, Janie. No way.”

  “It is a possibility.”

  “A remote one.”

  Mildred tapped her glass with her spoon. “Ladies. What’s going on?”

  Ethel gave Janie a squinted stare and then shifted her gaze to Mildred. “Janie thinks the girl killed at the Get ’em and Go maybe linked to the Edwin case.”

  “Why?”

  “Well,” Janie held up her hand and bent forward a finger, “one, they were both found near dumpsters.”

  “Wait. Edwin was inside the dumpster in pieces.” Ethel interjected.

  “So one was sliced and the other diced. Same, same.” Janie shot her a dagger-glare as she lifted her second digit. “Two. The leasing agent discovered the baby in Edwin’s bathtub, so...”

  “Huh?” Mildred’s penciled in eyebrows drew closer together.

  “Janie’s convinced the dead girl delivered her.”

  “After all, it happened the same night and someone cut her torso open. Sounds like a botched C-section to me.”

  Mildred sucked in a deep breath. “OK, that’s a stretch, but maybe.” Her eyes widened. “Wait. You think Bobby got her pregnant?”

  Janie shrugged. “He is in witness protection, but perhaps the thugs figured this would hit the news as a calling card and hoped it would cause him to surface. If he and the girl, well...”

  Mildred jabbed her finger in Ethel’s breastplate. “Has she been reading your gruesome British mysteries again?”

  Ethel shrugged. “In a weird and convoluted way, it does make sense. I give her that.” She fixed her gaze on Janie. “Not that I am buying any of this. What does Blake think?”

  Janie flipped her spoon back and forth as she stared at the tablecloth. “That most likely a teenage girl gave birth and she or her well-meaning friends panicked. What if they thought the four-story nursing unit was a hospital or something? When they discover it isn’t, they drive through the neighborhood looking for the way out and saw the vacant house.” She shrugged. “Our roads do sort of meander. Seems logical.”

  Ethel sat back. “Ever hear of a medical facility with a gated entrance?”

  Janie’s voice dropped low. “Only insane asylums.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Janie perched straighter in her chair. “Kids don’t always think things through, do they? How many times did you do something half-cocked and silly in high school?”

  “OK, point made.” Ethel shook her head. “Still, something tells me this doesn’t quite fit.”

  Mildred huffed. “Well, I can tell you one thing, Janie Manson. Bobby had nothing to do with getting a girl pregnant.”

  “Pardon me, Mildred, but how can you be so certain?”

  “Count back nine months. He still sat in the county jail for petty theft. They didn’t release him until right after Thanksgiving and this is nearing into June.”

  Janie felt her face warm. “Oh yes, well...”

  “Janie, of all the nerve even thinking such a thing.” Mildred jammed a forkful of noodles into her mouth.

  Ethel sighed. “She’s right. No connection. Give it up.”

  “Why is everyone so insistent these two cases are not related?”

  Ethel dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Why, Janie, are you so adamant that they are? Look, Betsy Ann and I have played along because you seemed excited to have something to do.” She raised her hands, fingers spread. “I admit. I am a sucker for a good whodunit. But this isn’t it. You seeking tangents that are just not there.”

  Silence draped the space between the threesome. After a few minutes, Janie sighed, took her tray, and left the dining hall.

  ~*~

  For the next three days, Janie didn’t bring up the subject of the baby or the young girl slaughtered behind the convenience store. Yet, on their way to the day clinic for their weekly blood pressure check, Betsy Ann leaned into Ethel’s left ear. “She is still stewing over this.”

  Ethel nodded. “She’s not sharing with us because Mildred and I gave her a hard time. I think perhaps her feelings are bruised.”

  “Hmm. Think we should ask her?”

  “Ask her what? She’ll rope us into her harebrained schemes.”

  Betsy Ann peered into Janie’s back as she trotted ahead of them. “Aren’t we already? I mean, she is our friend, and you have to admit her cognitive processes are sharp. I think the Edwin case ended up rather exciting.”

  “True. Beats watching soap operas.”

  Betsy Ann stooped and bent to flick a piece of freshly mowed grass from her slacks. “I could ask George is he’d like to help out with any research.”

  “Oh, I bet you could.”

  She jutted her hands to her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” After a moment the twinkle in her own eyes matched Ethel’s. “OK, during lunch, let’s approach her and ask her to clue us in on her thinking. And no snide remarks. We have to play along to keep her in check. I don’t want anyone else breaking into her apartment and jamming a knife at her.”

  “Deal. Besides, a little sluething wins out over playing Canasta or watching the sappy romance movie channel. Bunco Biddies unite.” She raised her right hand to the sky.

  Betsy Ann stood on tiptoe and slapped her palm.

  Janie turned back to them. “Come on, you two. The day’s a wasting.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ethel whispered in response, barely loud enough for Betsy Ann to pick up. She stifled a giggle, dreaming of her and George once again sitting hip to hip, eyes glued to a microfiche screen at the newspaper archives. Her heart thumped a bit harder, and not due to the accelerated walking.

  ~*~

  Betsy Ann and Ethel plopped their trays down in the dining hall. They edged forward to Janie who sat on the opposite side. Ethel knitted her eyebrows. “OK, Janie. Come clean. What’s churning in that brain of yours?”

  Janie gave them a wide-eyed, lash-fluttered expression.

  “We know you haven’t let go of this abandoned baby and slaughtered teen thing. So, tell us what your theory is.” Betsy Ann shook some salt into her beef stew—or so the lady ladling the brown, shimmery chunks swimming amidst the carrots and potatoes claimed it to be. Thank goodness, she’d taken an extra cornbread wedge to sop up the grease in her stomach.

  Janie pouted. “I assumed you both didn’t care.”

  Ethel reached for her friend’s wrinkled hand. “We’re sorry. Perhaps we niggled you too much. I apologize, and I’m certain Betsy Ann does as well.”

  “Yes, my bristling occurred because this happened so soon after the whole Edwin ordeal...” Betsy Ann cocked her head.

  Janie’s eyes lit from within. “Exactly my point. There must be a reason.”

  “Maybe it is simply the fact his place lay empty. We are at 97% capacity according to Mrs. Jacobs. Remember? She said so while we were folding the fliers.”

  Janie let out a sigh. “True, Betsy Ann. Could be merely a coincidence.”

  “We cannot connect the young girl to the baby either.” Ethel stabbed her Caesar salad and sniffed before allowing it in her mouth.

  “We should ask Tony, the Get’em and Go clerk, if he recalls what the girl looked like. My bet is her eyes and hair were the same as the baby’s. That would prove it, right?” Janie’s gaze passed between the two of them as if pleading for affirmative responses.

  “OK. I agree there aren’t that many Pakistani or Hindi in this neck of the woods.”

  Betsy Ann scoffed. “Except for the physicians who still take Medicare.”

  Her two friends bobbed their heads in agreement.

  Janie’s eyes flickered again. “Wonder if any who work at our skilled nursing facility have teenage daughters?”

  “A stretch, don’t you think?” Ethel picked at her fruit salad. “Ugh, this canned stuff always leaves a tinny taste on my tongue.�
��

  “Suppose the young woman goes into labor and tries to reach her parent who is on duty. Only it’s too late. The baby crowns.”

  “Uh uh, Janie. Doesn’t wash. Besides, you think she had a C-section, right?”

  “True. The Get’em and Go is no more than half a mile from the entrance to Sunset Acres anyway.”

  Ethel agreed. “Besides, we aren’t certain the dead girl had a baby. There could be other reasons for slicing her open.”

  “I agree.” Betsy Ann reached across to pat Janie’s arm. “Don’t they swallow bags of drugs sometimes?”

  Janie jiggled her head back and forth. “Possible.”

  “Not that we are nay-saying you, understand? I mean, if it was a botched C-section, why let her bleed to death so close to a medical facility, albeit for geriatric patients?”

  Janie slumped into her plastic cafeteria chair. “I know. Which is why this all baffles me.”

  Ethel bore into her face. “You still want to retrieve a DNA sample from the baby?”

  “Couldn’t hurt. We can send a specimen in and pay the money ourselves. If anything, it will tell us the nationality of the child, right?”

  “Oh, OK. I’ll go with you.” Ethel lifted her gaze to Janie’s face and raised her forefinger. “Don’t you dare ask me to change a diaper.”

  Betsy Ann glanced from Ethel to Janie. “I’ll go, Ethel. I love the scent of newborn babies, and they’re so soft to cuddle.” She cradled her arms and swayed a bit.

  Janie snickered. “Deal. I’ll call them later on my cell. We’ll swing by the drug store on the way. Splitting the cost between us three and Mildred will only be $25 each.”

  “You think Mildred will pitch in?”

  Janie shrugged. “Sure. She bonded with that baby. I saw it in her eyes.”

  Ethel sighed. “You’re right. She does keep bringing it up.”

  Betsy Ann scrunched up her nose. “Then what? Sneak into the morgue and yank out some of the dead girl’s hair?”

  Janie’s lips curled. “Yes, and possibly snatch the autopsy report while we’re at it. Got any black clothes and a flashlight?”

  They stared at her wide-eyed.

  TEN

  Later that afternoon, Ethel called Janie. “News break. I went to the convenience store and talked with our friend, Tony. He jabbered on and on about that young girl. Evidently, he found her when he took out the trash from the graveyard shift.”

  “You don’t say? And...?”

  “She definitely seemed Indian or Pakistani to him. Had one of those dots on her forehead. He figured her to be in her late-teens or early twenties.”

  Janie clucked her tongue. “How tragic.”

  “Yes, it is. He confirmed she’d been sliced wide open. Bled out, evidently.”

  “So she died on the spot. Nobody hauled her body near the vicinity of the dumpster?”

  “Uh, no. No repeat of the Edwin murder. Tony said she took her last breath just as the emergency crew arrived. He swears she whispered, ‘Gurney.’ Weird, huh?“

  “Indeed. I’d say strange.” Janie flipped the edge of the doily under the centerpiece on her coffee table, reminding herself she needed to be more diligent about dusting. “They still seem connected somehow.”

  “It does appear that way, but how could that possibly be so?”

  “Not a clue. Good work, Ethel.”

  A pause came over the receiver and for a moment, Janie wondered if Ethel had disconnected the call. Then her voice came through the wires. “You are serious about getting a sample from the corpse, aren’t you?”

  “Yep. I plan to sneak into the hospital morgue tonight.”

  “Are you sure the body will still be there?”

  “No, but often they keep a body until someone claims it or the police release it. I learned that when I volunteered as a greeter.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Once Mel and Nick went to school, I got bored. So I decided to lend a hand as an aide. We helped out in the gift shop, delivered posies and letters, straightened the magazines in the waiting areas, and directed people to the rooms. I served three days a week from ten to one from the time Mel entered fourth grade until she graduated high school.”

  Ethel harrumphed. “You never told me that. OK, I’ll go. But only because I want to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

  “Thanks. Meet me at my car tonight at ten sharp.”

  ~*~

  Ethel gulped as Janie pulled into a parking lot catty-cornered to the county hospital. “Are you sure we can pull this off?”

  “Ninety-percent positive.” She turned off her headlights and eased into a space near the fence, facing away from the back of the building. “Let’s go.”

  Janie exited her vehicle and closed the door with a soft click. Ethel mimicked her and came around the backside of the car, crouching low. Janie pointed and whispered in her ear. “This way. They always leave the employee entrance in the alley wedged with a roll of gauze so the employees can slip out for some fresh air or a few puffs of nicotine.”

  “Well, I’ll be. No one complains?”

  “About them sneaking out for a cigarette or the fact they keep it open? This is a small town still. Most of us citizens are honest.”

  “Right.” Ethel eyed her.

  Janie felt her own face heat as she realized her faux pas. “We aren’t breaking too many laws. It’s not like we’re going to steal her body or anything. Only a few hairs.”

  Ethel’s chest rose and fell. “OK, let’s go before I chicken out.”

  “Atta girl. This way.”

  They slipped down the alley and crouched behind the dumpster. “Tell me this one isn’t for medical waste.”

  “Of course not, Ethel. Those are incinerated. Don’t tell me you’re getting squeamish on me. After all of those bloody murder mysteries you read?”

  Ethel didn’t respond. Onward they tiptoed.

  Janie halted and placed her hand on Ethel’s shoulder. “Sshh. Someone’s taking a break.”

  She peeked around the corner. In a wedge of light emitting from the steel door, two people in surgical scrubs spoke in low tones. A minuscule glow of reddish yellow appeared near one of their faces and then a puff of white haze. Janie held her breath as the second-hand smoke filtered their way.

  After a few more drags, one of them stubbed out the cigarette and motioned to go back inside. The women waited for a few more minutes to make sure nobody else came out. Without speaking, they eased toward the employee entrance. Sure enough. There at the bottom wedged a roll of gauze.

  “Some things never change.” Janie pulled on the handle, gesturing for her friend to pass. “I’m glad the thrift store carried these.” She tugged on her hospital-blue shirt. “It’ll help us blend in.”

  Ethel spoke in a lower voice. “Won’t they wonder why two elderly women are wearing scrubs?”

  “Hey. Sixty is the new forty. Many people are returning to the work force after they figured out their nest eggs cracked. It’s politically incorrect to ask about one’s age nowadays.”

  “I guess. Which way?”

  “I hate to sound proverbial, but down the hall and to the left. It leads to the stairs. The morgue is in the basement, one floor down.”

  The two slithered with the stealth of trained secret agents. They eased open a metal door that housed a meshed window in the upper half. A stale odor of old paint and linoleum met their nostrils. Up above in the non-air conditioned stairwell, footfall sounded and another door opened. Taking a deep breath in unison, they edged down the flight of stairs to the bottom floor housing the mechanical rooms, storage archives, and the morgue.

  “Why do they always put them down here?” Ethel eased past some old iron lungs shrouded on plastic, reminiscent of the polio epidemics after World War II.

  “What?”

  “Morgues.”

  Janie shrugged. “You tell me? Tradition?”

  “Well, it makes sense. That would be the coolest place up unt
il the mid-twentieth century when central air and heat became common.”

  “Hmm. Good thinking, Ethel. You might be right.” Janie winked at her friend whose stance rose a bit higher in her sneakers.

  She jiggled the doorknob. “Rats. It’s locked.”

  “Now what?” Ethel huddled close to her.

  “Give me a minute. Oh, come on, brain, work.” She slammed her hand against the door in frustration. Immediately the hallway filled with red flashing lights and a whoop-whoop of a siren.

  “You tripped the alarm. Oh great, Janie. Just great.”

  “Guess some things do change after all. Come on. Let’s skedaddle.”

  They yanked open the stairwell entrance just as a uniformed guard stomped down the last steps. “Hold it right there, ladies. What do you think you’re doing down here at this hour of the night?”

  Ethel slouched to the stoop. “Oh boy. Your son-in-law is not going to like this one bit.”

  ELEVEN

  The two silver-headed women huddled in the security guard’s office like penitent school kids caught skipping class. The redness in the hospital officer’s face lessened by the minute as he spoke on the phone.

  “Yeah. They gave me their drivers’ licenses. Ethel MacDaniels and Janie Manson. Both live in Sunset Acres, that retirement community off of RM 1275 and the highway.”

  They heard a murmur of a male voice through the receiver. The guard twisted toward them as a lopsided grin stretched across his lips. “Is that so? Mother-in-law, huh?”

  Janie rolled her eyes.

  He chuckled and hung up. “Well, you might as well get comfortable. Seems they’re waking up your son-in-law as we speak.”

  Janie stuck out her chin.

  Ethel coughed. “Um, sir? I need to find the ladies’ room.”

  “It’ll have to wait.” Their captor shifted his weight. “I’ve orders not to let you out of my sight.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I am an old lady, and my bladder isn’t as strong as it used to be. So let me use the loo or bring me a diaper.”

  He sputtered. “OK, there’s an employee only one through there.” His head motioned to a non-descriptive door to the far right. “Guess it’ll be OK. No window so you can’t try to escape.”