In this blog:
Part 3 -Murder at Meadow Lakes……Again
A Note from Joy
New Offers in The BOOB Girl Series
In the last blogs:
Ruthie Vytrznik was flat on her back, eyes closed, quite dead.
“Vi-Tris-Nick,” Robbie volunteered. “It’s Polish for ‘Troublemaker.’”
“She’s making trouble even when dead,” Marge Aaron said. “Ruthie Vytrznik was poisoned. She died of an overdose of onions.”
Marge pulled her phone out of her pocket. “911”, she said into it.
“Alphonso already called 911,” Robbie said.
“I know,” Marge replied, “but I bet he didn’t ask for Homicide.”
She walked toward the windows, and they heard her ask for Detective Elle Mentary.
“Elementary?” Mary Rose asked, raising her eyebrows.
Marge talked for a few minutes, nodded as if satisfied, then limped back to the table and pulled out one of the extra chairs set against the wall.
“Elle Mentary,” she explained. “She’s new but my sources say she’s one of the best.”
“She still has sources,” Hadley noted.
“How do you die from an overdose of onions?” Robbie asked, typing ferociously into her computer.
“You don’t need to look it up,” Marge said. “If someone is seriously allergic, anything can kill you. There were bruises on her lips where I think, strong onion juice was forced into her mouth.”
Mary Rose made a face.
‘I feel bad for her,” Robbie said. “When we are over 70 we are cursed with the Damned D’s.”
Robbie started counting on her fingers. “Doctors, Drugs, Discouragement, Dismay, Despondency, Death. Not to mention experiencing Disrespect and Dismissal.”
“Duh!” Wiley said.
“Doomed,” Hadley added.
They heard Alphonso’s Green Machine scooter before they saw it. Raven was doing a good job keeping up with the big piece of metal as it rolled down the long hall toward them.
“I found her records,” Alphonso said, laying a thick file folder on the table. “She wasn’t Polish like we thought. She was Rumanian and her middle or maiden name, whichever, is Nosferatu.”
They looked at her.
“That means, ‘Vampire,’ Robbie said, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was more noise down the hall and a tall, black woman in a Liz Clairborne business suit and low- heeled black boots was leading three large men in trench coats toward them. All sported badges.
Marge turned and walked forward to greet them. They shook hands and Marge pointed to the closed door to apartment 322. The entourage sent inside, and Marge came back to the table where her friends waited.
They waited just a couple of minutes longer.
The door to 322 opened and Detective Elle Mentary strode toward them.
“What did you do with the body?” she asked, giving Marge a cold shiver
Marge looked confused. “We wouldn’t move it or touch anything,” she said defensively. “It’s a murder scene.”
Elle Mentary turned on her heels and motioned for Marge to follow.
Everyone else followed as well.
Detective Mentary held the door open for Marge.
Alphonso got off his scooter and leaned against the door frame, staring at an empty room.
The others crowded in and peered around him. “She’s gone!” Mary Rose said.
“A keen observer of the obvious,” Wiley whispered to Raven.
“She did not come out the door!” Robbie insisted. “We were watching the hall for Alphonso and Raven.”
“The windows are all locked from the inside,” one of the trench coats said, checking all three windows in the room.
Hadley leaned toward Robbie. “What was her middle name?
“Nosferatu,” Robbie whispered. “Vampire.”
A Note From Joy
Those Damned D’s
Ted and I are in a gangbusters independent retirement community in Omaha: Arboretum Village. Look it up on Google. It’s beautiful and I love it here. It’s also home to those Damned D’s. People here have helped me with the list.
I’m going to be 85 next month, and I am extremely lucky. Both Ted and I are able to do whatever we want to do – we just do it a lot slower.
It is true though, that even in an independent community, when we meet someone in the elevator, it’s more than a 50-50 chance they are headed for a doctor’s visit.
In my BOOB Girl talks, I always said, “Get four people with hair this color (white) together and you’ll get a medical report. We get angry when we’re Dismissed as useless or too old. We get angry when we are Disrespected. We talk about our Drugs, our Discouragements and we become Dismayed when we hear of falls or hospitalizations.
I credit Willy Nelson, but whoever said, ‘Growin’ old ain’t for sissies,” was right on.
So I want your help with the Blessed B’s. Those of us over 70 are also, Brave, Beautiful. Bountiful. Boisterous. Bright, Brilliant and my favorite – Ballsy.
Send me an email, email@example.com and add more B’s or go for a list of positive attributes of seasoned women starting with another letter. I’ll wait to hear from you.
In the meantime, send someone who needs to feel beautiful and ballsy a BOOB Girl book listed below in our specials.
Oh – and yes – One of my good friends here is deadly allergic to onions. It is possible for Ruthie to die on an overdose of onions.
Perfect Gift! for ANY occastion! Pick up your copy of any of The BOOB girls books at The Bookworm, 2501 S 90th St #111, Omaha, NE 68124 or Centering, 6406 Maple St, Omaha, NE 68104. Both are fully stocked with my books. Or, order online: www.theboobgirls.com.