By Douglas Goff
Hattie May Hatfield pulled her gray ladies box coat tightly about her frail form. It wasn’t that she was cold, just defensive. She was seventy-five, with nearly gray hair that she wore in a flipped bob style that she had maintained since the sixties.
Her husband of over forty years, a former police detective, had passed. So had most of her dear friends. She had two daughters who lived out of state with their own families and lives. In her younger years, Hattie had been an author. Failing eyesight had slowly and steadily robbed her of that pleasure.
The slight woman weighed all of a hundred pounds, but was still curvy for her age, and wore contacts, mainly because she had grown tired of constantly searching for her glasses. Hattie had been in the Berkshire Elderly Center for almost a week. Seems longer. The home housed two-hundred residents, most in their seventies and eighties.
The Berkshire wasn’t a terrible place. She found the food bearable and the common areas were always clean. Plus, the private bedrooms were much larger than she expected, each having their own restroom. That’s always a plus in the constipated world of the elderly.
No, her issue was with the people in the facility. None of them had proved too friendly. They all watched her like they half expected her to attack or something. Yeah, they were wary. That was a good word for them.
Hattie was sitting in the reading room with a good example of unfriendly sitting at the table across from her reading a book titled ‘Crimes of Sodden House’. He was an elderly man pushing ninety. She called him Grumpy Gus, but had no idea what his real name was.
That was because he never answered anyone with more than a grunt, followed by a smirk. The smirk was an easy transformation from the perpetual scowl that had set up permanent residency on his mug. Hattie had even caught him gifting others a couple of snarls in the past week. Probably best to keep a wide berth from that one.
At a different table to the left of Grumpy Gus was a nice looking smaller fella named Art. He was closer to Hattie’s age and looked clean-cut in his docker pants and light-blue polo shirt. She knew his name because she had heard others call him that. Her name for the man was Art Antica.
Hattie had dubbed him this because he was cold. On two occasions, Hattie had tried to engage Art Antica in conversation. Each time he had been terse, answering her questions with one word responses. He couldn’t seem to be bothered. She hadn’t tried a third time.
She sat down ‘Crooked House’ unable to focus. Not that she didn’t love Agatha Christie, but she was just too disturbed. Hattie didn’t feel like she belonged in this place. An unexpected feeling came upon her. I miss my home.
Her intentions when her eldest daughter, Sarah, dropped her off was to keep an open mind. She had been very lonely in her big old house, especially since her husband Paul had died eight years ago. Now that her house was gone, along with her Cadillac Brougham, she would just have to make the best of it.
Well, the car I can do without. She had hit two parked cars in the month before she had finally decided to permanently park it three months ago. Her eyesight just wasn’t what it used to be. But the house was a different story altogether.
It had been a stunning two-story, four bedroom, three bath white Colonial style that was located in a middle-class neighborhood close to downtown. It even had two magnificent columns at the front that ran to the roof, giving it an air of opulence.
Her and Paul had lived there for over forty years and had raised both of their daughters there. The memories inside those walls were palpable. But now someone else was making new memories there. It had sold for a pretty penny.
Recently, sitting inside of the big house with its many closed off rooms had been so lonely. Yet, now that she was surrounded by numerous people her own age, the feeling of emptiness was still with her, hanging about her like a bad odor.
The center’s director, a pencil-pusher named Harold Chapman, had spent the entire first day of ‘indoctrination’ speaking with Sarah. He had never said even one word to Hattie, which was fine by her. The man had the personality of a dead fish.
Hattie had worn all black that day, right down to her formal shiny church shoes. She looked like a woman in mourning, and had taken subtle pleasure in entering the Berkshire Center that way. It was her way of letting go of her past. The statement was lost on Chapman and Sarah, or at the very least, they did not acknowledge her gloomy attire.
One lady had recently talked to her. She wore a blonde beehive hairdo and large silver bifocals. She wore an out of style, faded pink floral print doll collar dress Her name was Katherine Beck. ‘Had’ talked to her was a great description for what had occurred.
The woman had sat down at Hattie’s dining table and talked for thirty minutes straight. The rapid talker never let Hattie get in even a single word. Then she said “good chat” and left. In and out like a tornado of babble. That earned her the name Chatty Cathy.
Hattie May Hatfield pulled her gray box coat even tighter around her body. No, it certainly was not cold in the center. She just felt closed up as she hadn’t been able to open up to anyone. The standoffish residents were just too wary.
Nope, so far I haven’t met a single person I could possibly befriend. Hopefully my second week will go better. Yes, I must remain positive. I will say that back in my day, people were much more friendly.
CHARACTERS:
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who had made her living as an author
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old resident
| Author Notes |
Okay, I am going to try something new that is WAY out of my comfort zone. Let's see how it goes.
The awesome picture of the manor is by Dodgement. |
By Douglas Goff
Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her daughters living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly.
New Chapter:
“So, I hope you’re finding our little place hospitable?”
“I—-“
“Because that’s what we’re all about here at The Berkshire. Everybody who lives here calls it The Berkshire. Friendly hospitality is important. Don’t you agree?”
“Well—-“
“Anyways, I heard you’re an author. Anything I may have read?”
“I’m not su—-“
“I read constantly, especially before I go to bed because it always makes me sleepy, not that all books are boring, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I—”
“Well, you should just fit right in. Everybody loves a celebrity. I could introduce you to my friends if you like?”
“I would—”
“Well, you’ll meet everyone eventually, anyways. I mean, it’s not like we’re going anywhere, is it?”
Hattie kept her mouth shut this time.
“Okay, gotta run. Girl, you sure are a quiet one.” Then Chatty Kathy and her beehive hairdo disappeared into the blue hair sea that surrounded them.
Hattie simply shook her head. That was . . . something.
Hattie noticed a similarly aged Italian man, who had his thick-black hair gelled back, winking at her in a lascivious manner.
Jerk Beefy. That wasn’t his real name, of course, but that is what she had dubbed him on day one. His real name was Howard Martin and he had approached her on her very first day wearing a brown tweed three-piece suit. Never trust a man with two first names. Nor one who wears tweed. At least that’s what my mother used to say.
“If you need somebody to show you around, let me know.” Jerk Beefy had offered. “And the tour ends in my room where you’ll get the full Berkshire experience.”
Hattie had simply ‘harrumphed’ him and scurried as far away as she could. Now, every time she looked at the man, he would merely wink. Save that sleazy crap for a floozy.
A chunky woman with a blue-tinted afro came and sat beside Jerk Beefy. She was Lisa Furlewitz. Lisa roomed directly across from Hattie on the third floor. Now Hattie would like to claim she came up with the name, but the entire center called the woman Moaning Lisa.
That came from the awful moaning that came from her room every other night. It was so loud her first evening at the center that Hattie had gone to knock on her door to check on her. She was interrupted when Jerk Beefy exited Lisa’s room. He simply winked at Hattie and said, “Let me know when you want your turn.”
Jerk Beefy didn’t belong on the third floor as it was reserved for the women. The second floor was for the men. Everything on the first floor was public areas such as the dining room, exercise room, nurse’s center, both large and small reading rooms, a big tv room, a game room, and such common venues.
Hattie ignored the pair that was watching her intently and finished her meatloaf. Strange birds. Just as she was finishing, Barfett came and sat at her table.
The obese woman stared greedily at a large plate of food she had set down, and said nothing to Hattie as she began shoving chicken into her mouth. The chewing was the worst as several greasy chunks escaped from her gnashing teeth and fell back to her plate.
Hattie did not know the frumpy lady’s real name, but Barfett seemed to fit perfectly. With great joy at having finished, Hattie happily rose and took her plates to the dirty dish bin.
As she passed by Jerk Beefy and Moaning Lisa’s table she saw a squat bald man handing the sleazy man a bottle full of blue pills. What the heck? All meds were supposed to be dispensed by the Berkshire nurse, a spunky young blonde lady named Debra. It wouldn’t surprise me if those were drugs. Those two look like dirty hooligans.
Hattie made her way to the third floor where she passed by an abnormally skinny black woman who was quite pretty. The lady, named Nancy, nearly ran into her as she was messing with her hair while staring into an ornate handheld mirror.
She had struggled finding a name for the woman, but now it dawned on Hattie that the lady was always staring in that mirror. In fact, she had never seen her without it. Narcissistic Nancy. Perfect.
CHARACTERS:
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who had made her living as an author
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-A resident who looks at herself in the mirror constantly
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
By Douglas Goff
Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her daughters living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people.
New Chapter:
Hattie was heading to an empty corner table with her tray of meatloaf and corn hash when she saw a plump woman waving her over. She had to do a double-take, just to make sure the woman wasn’t signaling to someone else. Interesting.
Hattie made her way over to the table and took a seat. The woman, who wore a purple dress and purple rimmed glasses, stuck her hand out. “I’m Nelly. Everyone here calls me Nel.”
“Hattie. Pleased to meet you.” She took Nelly’s hand and shook it, noticing the woman’s curly hair bore a purple tint, as opposed to the more common blue hue of her Berkshire counterparts.
“I’ve been watching you. You always get the meatloaf.” Nelly smiled. “Well, not on Mexican Mondays or Fish Fry Fridays, but every other time.”
“You’ve been watching me?” Hattie wasn’t sure she liked that at all.
“Yes, and I can see that you’re a smart one. I want to ask you something.” Nelly leaned in and lowered her voice. “Do you know anything about Mr. Howell?”
“The rich man from Gilligan's Island?” Hattie scratched her head.
Joy giggled. “No, same name, but different man. A resident.”
“Howell? Never heard of him.”
“Well, let me fill you in. He lived up on the fourth floor.” Nelly nodded her head knowingly, as if the mere mention of the fourth floor would bring a wave of comprehension to Hattie. It didn’t.
Hattie noticed the use of past-tense as in ‘lived’ but her curiosity led her down a different path. “What exactly is the fourth floor used for?”
“Seriously, nobody told you?” Nelly seemed happy to have some unknown information. “It’s where they keep the bed-ridden, very sick, very old, and those with dementia.”
“So, what issue did this ‘Mr. Howell' have?”
“How about none of the above. All I know is Edward Howell started complaining about the poor quality of the food and the next thing we knew they moved him to the fourth floor.“
“That is odd.” Hattie’s interest was genuinely piqued. I love a good mystery.
“For sure. What’s more odd is that within a week, poor complaining Mr. Howell was dead.”
“No.” Hattie gasped, swirling her last bite of meatloaf around in her gravy. Nelly didn’t answer. When Hattie looked up, the woman’s eyes were closed.
“Nel?” Hattie was confused. The previously animated lady responded with a slight snore. What the heck?
“Don’t worry about ol’ Nelly. She suffers from narcolepsy. She can literally fall asleep anywhere at any time.” The new woman who sat down was a bouncy redhead. Obviously dyed.
“Seriously?” Hattie stared at the now snoring woman, who now had a trail of gravy running down her chin. A small noise to their left disturbed Hattie.
“As serious as a heart attack.” The woman snapped her fingers in front of Nelly’s face with no effect. “I’m Joy by the way.”
“I’m Hattie.” She couldn’t help but notice that the ginger was extremely bubbly and could hardly sit still.
“So, was Nel telling you about the odd happenings on the nefarious fourth floor?” Now Joy’s jolly voice lowered. Perhaps that is how the residents of Berkshire discussed the uppermost level.
“Yes, until she fell asleep. We were discussing Mr. Howell and his untimely demise.”
Joy looked about, as if to ensure that they were alone, even though they were in a room full of people. “It’s all true. I was in the lobby when they brought the poor dead man off the elevator and wheeled him out. He was covered in a white sheet. Very creepy.”
“When did this happen?”
Joy smiled at Hattie’s genuine interest. “Last month. August 12th. It was hot that night. I remember it well because the air conditioning was on the fritz.”
Another noise, sounding like someone was blowing raspberries, caused Hattie to turn around and look behind her at a black-haired lady. She wore her hairdo long and looked to be a decade younger than Hattie. “What—-“
“Oh, that’s just Wendy. She’s quite gassy. She lets ‘Polly out the back door’ continuously.”
“Windy” Hattie smiled at the quick pick-up on her name. Windy Wendy.
“What?” Joy cocked her head with a curious look.
“It’s just something I do. Wendy . . . Windy. Get it?”
“Oh my gosh, you’re too funny.” Joy giggled. “So what about Mr. Howell?”
Hattie sat and thought for a bit. Suspicious death? Mystery? A slight smile spread across her face. Perfect. This is right up my alley. “I have a contact in the police department. I think I’ll make some inquiries.”
“Oh goodie!” Joy loudly clapped her hands in excitement.
“Shhh!” Hattie frowned. “A situation like this calls for discretion. We must proceed with great caution.”
Joy put her finger to her lips. “Yes, of course. Discretion. What’s our next step, Hattie?”
“Well, how about you give me two days? Then come to my room after lights out for a meeting. Make sure you keep quiet. This will be our little secret for now.” Hattie grasped Joy’s hand. “Can I trust you to stay quiet?”
“Of course.” Joy gulped, nearly bursting with excitement at the prospect of an adventure. “We’re going to solve this caper.”
“Maybe. But first, we need to determine if we have a caper.”
“Okay.” Joy excitedly rose to leave with her food tray.
“What about Nel?” Hattie didn’t think they should leave the woman snoozing in the dining room.
“Oh, the aides will bring a wheelchair and take her to her room. She’ll be fine. By the way, I saw that creepy Italian Howard checking you out. I would steer clear of him if I were you.”
“I plan to.” Hattie nodded.
“He fadoodled me my first week here.” Joy shrugged. “It had been awhile, so I gave him a go. Trust me when I say that you ain’t missing nothing.”
It had been eight years for Hattie since she had intimate relations, but she couldn’t imagine being that desperate. Ever.
Later that night, Hattie went over the entire talk she had with Narcoleptic Nelly and Jubilee Joy, the names she had dubbed her new friends with. She liked the two women. They were . . . different. Hattie had remained calm and collected with Joy, but her excitement was building. A mystery?
She was so excited that she was having trouble sleeping. Well, that and Moaning Lisa was shaking the walls with banshee-like wails that would make a ghost blush. Apparently, her neighbor wasn’t missing 'anything' either. How does a guy Jerk Beefy's age get it up so often?
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously died
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
| Author Notes | I am trying hard to hit the proper terms and references for this age group and am even consulted with my elders. (The older I get the less there are.) |
By Douglas Goff
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Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it.
New Chapter:
Hattie held her finger to her lips as she waved her visitor into her room. It caught her by surprise when Jubilee Joy was followed by Narcoleptic Nelly.
“Okay, Detective Steele. I appreciate your assistance on the matter,” Hattie said into the receiver.
Joy and Nelly looked at each other then stared at Hattie with excitement.
“Of course, Detective Steele. Understood. We never spoke.” Hattie set the phone in its cradle.
All of the private rooms had hard line phones. Another pleasant surprise for Hattie as the residents were not allowed to have cellphones. The Berkshire Center had too much trouble in the past with lost cell phones and billing issues and such. Now the facility provided the residents with room phones.
“Detective Steele?” Jubilee Joy giggled. “He sounds dreamy.”
“He was a friend of my deceased husband Paul. They were cops together back in the day.” Hattie smiled. “And oh yes, he is dreamy. If I was ever going to step out, and trust me I wasn’t the type, then it would’ve been with Detective Steele. Broad shoulders. Black hair and deep ocean-like blue eyes.”
“Stop, Hattie, or I’m going to have to visit Howard.” Nelly giggled like a school girl.
“You haven’t? Had a go with Jerk Beefy, I mean?” Hattie laughed, thinking that just about everyone had.
“Jerk Beefy? Oh my, that is perfect, isn’t it!” Joy laughed. “I absolutely love it.”
“And no, I’m one of a handful of ladies on the third floor who had avoided How . . . er . . . ah, Jerk Beefy’s overactive libido.”
“Speaking of that, the man must be pushing eighty. How does he keep up his amorous appetite?” Hattie was curious.
“You haven’t met Phillip? Squat bald fella who looks a little bit like Danny DaVito? He wears the poindexter glasses?” Joy raised her eyebrows.
“Yes. I’ve seen him.” Hattie remembered the man with the blue pills from the dining room.
“He scores more Viagra than the boys on the second floor can handle. Gets it from his son, who visits every Sunday.” Joy revealed.
“I would stay off that second floor, Hattie. It’s boner city down there.” Nelly snorted back her laughter.
“Okay ladies, enough of Pharmacuetical Phil. Let’s get serious. First off, I thought we were keeping this investigation a secret between us, Joy?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Hattie. I didn’t think you meant Nel as you and her had already discussed the case.”
“Yeah, Hattie. Don’t cut me out. I won’t tell anyone.” Nelly seemed offended. “I’m the one who told you about Mr. Howell, afterall.”
“Okay, fair enough. But just the three of us. Nobody else needs to know about our efforts. We certainly don’t want things to get out of hand.”
“Scouts honor.” Joy held up one finger in an attempt to make the Boy Scout symbol.
Nelly leaned over and tried to push up a couple more of Joy’s fingers. The woman resisted and an argument ensued about what the proper amount of fingers one needed to make the Boy Scout’s symbol.
“Ladies, can we try to focus here?” Hattie had to stifle a chuckle.
Joy stuck her tongue out at Nelly, then turned back to Hattie. “Yes, sorry she’s being so childish. So what did Detective Dreamy tell you?”
Hattie left her bed and went over to a picture of a vase hanging on her wall. With a wink at the other two ladies, she removed the picture, revealing a white marker board hidden behind it. Written across the top was Senior Sleuth Society.
“Oh wow!” The two excited onlookers gasped and quickly sat in the two room chairs, their faces riddled with anticipation.
“My daughter, Sarah, came to check on me yesterday and brought the board here for us. She’ll be assisting us in our investigation from the outside.” Hattie wrote three words on the white surface with an erasable black marker. ‘Clues, suspects, and theories.’
“Oh what fun!” Joy bounced up and down, clapping her hands.
“So, Detective Steele told me a few interesting things. First off, they found Mr. Howell dead on the floor between his bed and the Davenport. They suspect homicide.” Hattie emphasized the last word for affect.
“Murder!” Joy gasped, placing her hands over her mouth.
“What’s a davenport?” Nelly asked, seemingly unfazed with the revelation that they actually had a mystery on their hands.
“It’s what they used to call couches,” Joy whispered to her while Hattie continued.
Hattie wrote ‘body on floor’ under clues and then added 2:00 am under that. “The coroner put Mr. Howell’s death at around 2:00 am. That means we can cross all the day shift staff off as suspects.”
“So, we need to find out what staff was working that night?” Nel correctly guessed.
“Yes. We need suspects. Can you two work on that?”
Joy raised her hand excitedly. “Like I said, I was in the lobby when they brought the body down. I remember Mrs. Cooley was working the front desk that night.”
Mrs. Janice Cooley was a middle-aged, hefty, black woman. She had a warm and kind personality and was well liked by the residents. Still, Hattie wrote her name under ‘suspects’. That leaves an aid for each of the other three floors, as well as the night nurse.”
“Also a maintenance guy,” Nelly interjected. “They keep one on duty for night emergencies.”
“Okay. We need those names. Do you ladies remember who was working this floor the evening of the crime?” Hattie hoped they could.
Joy and Nel looked at each other and shrugged. The floor aides were rarely seen, especially at night, unless a resident had an issue. It made sense that the pair would not remember who had been working.
“Well, no matter. We’ll figure it out.” Hattie reassured them. “Detective Steele will call me back when they get the toxicology reports. That’ll tell us more. The coroner listed this as a suspicious death of undetermined cause. He also said that Mr. Howell had no visible wounds on his body. So, any ideas how he might have been murdered?”
“Poison?” Joy clapped her hands excitedly.
“Or maybe an overdose?” Nel raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
“Very good!” Hattie wrote poison and overdose under theories. With that, she ended the meeting by replacing the picture over their case chart.
It was time to wrap up the first meeting of the Senior Sleuth Society because she needed to call the floor aid. Nelly was lightly snoring as she had fallen asleep in her chair. Oh
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Pharmacuetical Phil-Supplies pills to the male residents
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
Mrs. Janice Cooley-Attendant
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously died
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Detective Steele-Hattie's deceased husband's old partner
By Douglas Goff
Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society.
New:
Joy came and sat next to Hattie and Nellie in the reading room. She looked about, and seeing that they were alone, whispered, “I learned that Nurse Debbie was working overtime the night Mr. Howell died.”
“Oh my. How did you find that out?” Hattie liked the young, high-energy nurse.
“Chatty Cathy. She talks everyone’s ears off and she was told by Grumpy Gus that he had a bad migraine that night and had gotten some motrin from Debbie just before midnight.”
“Nice work, Joy. So that means we just need to find out who the attendants were working the second, third, and fourth floors that night,” Hattie advised her companions.
“Oh, don’t forget the night maintenance man.” Nelly reminded her. “We still need to figure out who that was too.”
“Oh yes. So any ideas, ladies?”
“I do.” Nelly smiled mischievously. “Follow me.”
Joy shrugged at Hattie as they rose. The confused pair followed Nelly to the main lobby of The Berkshire. Mrs. Cooley was sitting at the front desk reading a book called ‘The Cypress Hill Killings’, quite intently.
Nelly pulled her two friends into a huddle and whispered, “Okay, you two distract Cooley while I sneak into the Administration Office behind her. They keep the employee work records there.”
Hattie grabbed Nelly’s arm as she turned to go. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to be the one to go into the office . . . alone?”
“Why not?” Nelly looked perplexed.
“What if you . . . ya know . . . fall asleep?”
“Oh, right.”
Hattie patted her arm. “You two handle Cooley. I’ll sneak into the office.”
“Just play dumb and confused if you get caught in there. The attendants expect that from us old people.” Joy nodded reassuringly.
Her two friends walked towards the front desk when Hattie heard Jubilee Joy exclaim, “Mrs. Cooley, help me. Nelly has fallen asleep on her feet!”
The large black woman scrambled from her chair and rushed around the desk to help Joy. Hattie used the opportunity to slip around the opposite side of the main desk, away from the commotion, and snuck into the door positioned behind. There was no doubt it was the correct room as it had ‘Administration’ stenciled on the frosted glass window of the door.
Once inside, Hattie noticed there was a large desk, two file cabinets, and a wall rack full of manilla folders, marked with the various months. Easier than I thought. She grabbed the one that said August. Inside, there were two sheets. One was marked day shift and the other night shift.
Oh no! Hattie had a senior moment when she could not remember what day Mr. Howell had died. You old fuddy-duddy. Oh bother. She folded up the night shift schedule and shoved it into her bra. Hattie quickly made her exit, seeing Mrs. Cooley snapping her fingers in front of Nelly’s face, the feigning woman’s eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“Absolutely amazing! She’s sleeping right on her feet.” The attendant looked shocked, and couldn’t stop snapping her fingers.
“This should work.” Hattie came over and poked Nelly on the nose with her pointer-finger.
Nelly’s eyes popped open, and she broke into a wide grin. “Oh, was I napping, again?”
“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Mrs. Cooley shook her head and waddled back to her desk.
The three ladies interlocked their arms and headed to Hattie’s room on the Third Floor. Once her door was closed, they quickly took down the vase picture. Hattie pulled the folded paper from her brazier and after studying it, added three names to the suspect list.
The Second Floor Attendant had been Harvey Marsh. He was a skinny black man, in his mid-twenties, that everyone seemed to be fond of. The third floor aid had been Becky Hazel. She was a motherly white woman in her late fifties. She often brought snacks and sweet treats for the ladies on the floor.
The name for the Fourth Floor, Jimmy Williams, had a black line through it and the sheet annotated that he had called in sick the night. His replacement was not listed. Plus, there was no slot for the maintenance man.
“The schedule for the maintenance men is kept in their office at the far west end of the First Floor. But, they keep the door locked. I don’t think we’ll be able to pilfer that list, Hattie.” Joy frowned. “What do we do?”
Hattie replaced the vase picture and came over to the two ladies and grabbed their hands. “We figure it out. That’s all part of solving a mystery. We don’t give up until we’ve figured it out.”
Her two new friends nodded at her with a quiet resolve.
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Pharmacuetical Phil-Supplies pills to the male residents
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
SUSPECT Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
SUSPECT Mrs. Janice Cooley-Attendant
SUSPECT Harvey Marsh- Attendant
SUSPECT Becky Hazel- Attendent
SUSPECT Jimmy Williams-Attendant
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously died
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Detective Steele-Hattie's deceased husband's old partner
By Douglas Goff
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Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society.
New:
The smaller of the two first floor reading rooms had become the sleuths daytime meeting spot. They usually got together a half hour before dinner to discuss the case. Today, Hattie had arrived first to find the room occupied by Art Antica, who was reading a book called ‘Three Rivers of Blood’.
The smaller framed man probably weighed about what she did. Not that he didn’t appear stout, he was just a man with a smaller build. She studied his short curly hair and light blue eyes, which she realized were now staring at her. Hattie blushed and stared at her hands. I’m seventy-five and turning red-faced like a highschool senior.
When Joy and Nelly came in, Art got up and left the reading room. Hattie was fairly certain the man’s eyes never left her as he exited the room. He’s such a cutie. Oh, what is wrong with me? Snap out of it, Hattie. Act your age!
“Don’t be upset, Hattie.” Joy’s comment interrupted her thoughts.
“Upset about what?” She stared at the woman.
“Just for the record, it wasn’t my idea.” Nelly interjected while Joy waved someone in from the hallway. In walked Narcissistic Nancy.
“I thought we agreed it would just be the three of us, Joy?” Hattie could not hide her disappointment in the woman’s inability to keep a secret.
“I’m sorry, Hattie, but you have to hear what Nancy has to say.” Joy nodded her head reassuringly.
The skinny black woman took a seat and sat her mirror on the table, face up so she could still glance at herself. “I don’t mean to interfere with any friendships here, but Joy told me what you ladies were up to after I told her I was on the Fourth Floor the night Mr. Howell passed away.”
Immediately forgetting Joy’s infraction, Hattie leaned in close to the pretty woman. “What were you doing on the Fourth Floor that night?”
“I go up there a couple times a week to see my sister, Marcy. She is ninety-six and bedridden so they put her up on the Fourth Floor.” A sad look covered Nancy’s face for a moment.
“So, did you see who was working?” Hattie was excited.
“Of course. I always have to be escorted when I go there. It is a safety regulation as some of the folks up there have severe dementia. The attendant was Carmen Marsala.
“Oh yes, Carmen has worked on our floor a few times. She's a sturdy woman.” Hattie nodded and grabbed a piece of paper and pen. “So, can you do us a favor? Can you draw us a map of the Fourth Floor and show us where Mr. Howell’s room was?”
“Depends.” A grin covered Nancy's face.
“On what?” Nelly spoke up before Hattie could.
“Well, You want a map . . . and I want in. I want to join your Senior Sleuth Club.” Nancy grabbed the pen. “And I know the room you are asking about.”
Senior Sleuth Society. Hattie corrected her and shrugged. “Okay, but ladies, this is it. The inner core. We all must agree to that if I let Nancy in.”
“Of course,” Nelly agreed.
“Sure,” Joy promised. “The inner core.”
They all looked at Nancy. “I won’t tell anyone, I just want in.”
“Okay, you’re in.” Hattie pointed at the blank sheet
Nancy took several minutes and drew a meticulous map. It was helpful, but looked much the same as the Second and Third floors. The high value information was when she put an X on one of the rooms and wrote the number 413.
“There.” She pointed at the X. “That’s the spot.”
“X marks the spot!” Nelly quipped.
“Good work, Nancy.” Hattie stared at the map. “When is the next time you visit Marcy?”
"Tonight. Why?” The woman picked up her mirror and started messing with her hair.
“Is there a chance you could see if room 413 is still vacant.”
“My sister is in room 403, at the near end, but I think so. If they catch me I’ll just play confused. The attendants eat that up. Why do you need to know if 413 is empty?”
“Oh no, Hattie, don’t tell me that you’re planning on sneaking up to that room.” Jubilee Joy didn’t look so jubilant as she shook her head.
“I’m in.” Nelly grinned from ear to ear.
“Joy, I have to get a look at that room. We need clues, and I bet we find something in there.” Hattie was firm.
“The cops have already gone over that room with a fine toothed-comb. Do you think it’s worth the risk?” Joy was equally as firm.
“Nobody has to go with me. Why don't you ladies take some time and think it over while we wait to see what Nancy finds out. That way you can all make a well-thought out decision,” Hattie offered.
“I’m in.” Nelly was not thinking anything over.
Nancy cleared her throat loudly, tensing up in her seat. She stared Hattie in the eyes hard and turned her mirror for Hattie to look. She put it at an angle showing that Art Antica was standing behind her in the hallway listening in.
The man must have realized the women had stopped talking because he hurried away, heading down the hallway. Joy went and peeked out the door, to make sure he was gone.
“I wonder what that was all about?” Nancy grimaced.
“More importantly, what did he hear?” Hattie was bothered by the man’s snooping. “We better end this meeting for now.”
“Wait! Nancy hasn’t told you the best part.” Joy looked like she was about to burst.
Hattie turned back to Nancy, not sure what else she could know.
“I wasn’t the only person from the lower floors visiting the top floor the night Mr. Howell had died.
“What? Who else did you see up there?” Hattie had to know.
“Phil Barnes. I saw him coming from the far end of the hall. We went down on the elevator together.” Nancy’s mouth formed a grim line.
“Oh my!” Nelly gasped.
“Pharmaceutical Phil?” Hattie was surprised. “Oh my is right.” Why would he be up there?
Joy burst out laughing. “Pharmaceutical Phil? How do you do that Hattie? You’re simply brilliant.“
“Regardless, I guess we have another suspect to add to our list.” Hattie lowered her voice. “Let’s all meet in my room two nights from now, just after lights out. Maybe I will have heard from Detective Steele by then, and hopefully Nancy will have the information we seek. Then we’ll see who is going up to the fourth Floor.”
“Not sure if you heard me earlier, but I’m in.” Nelly gave Hattie a thumbs up.
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Pharmacuetical Phil Barnes-Supplies pills to the male residents
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
SUSPECT Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
SUSPECT Mrs. Janice Cooley-Attendant
SUSPECT Harvey Marsh- Attendant
SUSPECT Becky Hazel- Attendent
SUSPECT Jimmy Williams-Attendant
SUSPECT Carmen Marsala-Attendant
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously died
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Detective Steele-Hattie's deceased husband's old partner
Marcy-Narcicisstic Nancy's sister
By Douglas Goff
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Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society.
New:
The ladies pulled up chairs around Hattie's bed, only this time, she had three visitors. Nelly, Nancy, and Joy all stared at her intently, barely able to hide their excitement at how things were going. Their investigation seemed to be moving along nicely.
The vase picture was already down, and their suspect list had grown. Noted were:
Assistant Janice Cooley
Nurse Debra
Assistant Harvey Marsh
Assistant Becky Hazel
Assistant Carmen Marsala
Pharmaceutical Phil
Assistant Carmen Marsala
Maintenance Man ?
"Have you heard from that dreamy detective, Hattie?" Joy clasped her hands together.
"Steele? Unfortunately, he's still waiting on the coroner's toxicology report. I'm hoping we get that soon, so we have more to go on." Hattie nodded. "You all know how slowly the government types move. That may be key to this case, but for now, we have to wait for it."
Her three companions all agreed.
"Until then, we have other avenues of investigation to attend to. Nancy, what did you discover when you visited your sister last night?"
The skinny woman toyed with her bangs one more time, before putting her mirror down. "Room 413 is still unoccupied."
"Are you certain?" Hattie smiled.
"Yep, I took a peek inside. Empty as Jerk Beefy's promises." Nancy's comments caused the other ladies to snicker.
"Then it is decided." Hattie clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling with excitement. "A raid to room 413 is scheduled for 1:00 am tomorrow."
"Decided?" Joy looked unnerved. "Who decided? I just don't think it is worth the risk. We should discuss this and not just go off half-cocked and willy-nilly."
"I'm in!" Nelly ignored Joy's protests.
"It is decided, because I'm going." Hattie was firm. "I will take Nelly with me while you two stay behind."
"Nope. I'm going along too." Nancy gave Hattie a thumbs up. "What are they gonna do, spank us?"
"Oh, I certainly hope so!" Nelly giggled, then the three women stared at Joy.
"Are you girls sure about this?" All three nodded that they were.
Joy wrung her hands. "Really, really sure? Because if we get caught, we could get into some real trouble."
Again, they all nodded their heads excitedly.
"All right then, I'm in as well." Joy sighed. "But if we get caught, we aren't going to get away with feigning confusion this time."
"We can all pretend we're sleepwalking," Nancy suggested.
"That may work for Nel, but not the rest of us. We'll look like the walking dead if we all start stumbling about with our eyes closed and our arms in the air." Joy's comment brought about even more giggles.
"So that settles it then. We just won't get caught." Hattie said with much more certainty than she actually felt.
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy residentÂÂ
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriendÂÂ
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror ÂÂ
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Pharmacuetical Phil Barnes-Supplies pills to the male residents
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
SUSPECT Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
SUSPECT Mrs. Janice Cooley-Attendant
SUSPECT Harvey Marsh- AttendantÂÂ
SUSPECT Becky Hazel- Attendent
SUSPECT Jimmy Williams-Attendant
SUSPECT Carmen Marsala-Attendant
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously diedÂÂ
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Detective Steele-Hattie's deceased husband's old partner
Marcy-Narcisistic Nancy's sister
By Douglas Goff
When they hurried past the room, they saw Becky Hazel laid back in a large reclining armchair with her snoring and snorting face sounding off at the ceiling it faced. Her feet were up on the desk. Next to her white uniform shoes was a tin with squares of fudge marble brownies. Hattie could just make out a ring of chocolate around the assistant’s lips.
The group of elderly women scurried past the open doorway, feeling relief at having passed their first obstacle. Then to their surprise, Nelly turned back and went straight into the floor attendant's office!
Joy and Hattie stared at each other, mouths agape in shock. A moment later, Nelly returned with four of the brownies. Hattie wasn’t happy. Of all the nonsensical deliciously ignorant tasty mistakes. Okay, they are quite delicious!
Once the ladies had gobbled down their mid-raid snack, they continued to the stairway. They could not risk the elevator, because Nancy had advised that the fourth floor attendant sat at a desk right beside the elevator. This was for the safety of the fourth floor residents who tended to wander about.
Once they started up the stairs, Hattie had to grimace at all of the popping knees and cracking bones as they climbed, including her own. It sounded like some type of creepy skeletal band. Luckily it’s only one flight of stairs, or we will never make it!
Finally, they were at the far east end of the fourth floor. They snuck as quietly as church mice down the dimly lit hall. The fourth floor was neither as tidy nor as bright as the other floors down below. The entire place had an eerie feel to it. Creepy, in fact.
Luckily, the single bulbs hanging down from electrical cords every fifty feet or so provided just enough illumination to reveal the room numbers. Once they reached room 413, the ladies huddled behind Hattie at the door.
She opened it as quietly as she could and all four of them slipped into the room, nervously running into each other when she stopped in the middle of the room. The first thing the ladies noticed was that it smelled stale and the air was stagnant.
When Nancy flipped on the light switch, they saw that the room was sparsely decorated and stripped of all personal items. Hattie noted that there was at least twenty feet distance from the davenport to the stripped bed. There were two chairs, a small table, and a private bathroom. The entire setup and size was very similar to their rooms down on the third floor.
Joy started to speak when they heard footsteps in the hallway outside the door. All four of the ladies froze, hoping that whoever was walking by, wouldn’t notice that the light was on inside of the room. If they did, then their caper was all over.
A loud noise, obviously the passing of gas, sounded out in the hallway as the person continued down the hall. Hattie held her finger to her lips after seeing Nel’s face trembling. Then out came a snicker, followed by a louder giggle. That broke Joy, who also giggled. When Nancy joined in, Hattie had to shush them.
Once they managed to control themselves, and grew silent, the ladies listened for several minutes. It seemed whoever had passed, most likely the floor attendant at this hour, was gone. Then they resumed their search.
“Is that blood?” Nancy pointed at a large round stain in the middle of the mattress.
Nel took a closer look and saw that it was yellow, stating, “Depends.”
“On what?” Nancy questioned.
“No . . .Mr. Howell needed some Depends.” Nel smiled, “That’s a pee stain.”
Hattie had to silence another round of giggles before they continued. It didn’t take them long to discover that there wasn’t much in the room. All of Mr. Howell’s personal items were long gone. Needless to say, it was a little disappointing.
“What exactly are we looking for, Hattie?” Joy went and looked out the window.
“We're looking for clues, silly.” Nelly answered and made her way to the closet. After pulling it open, she sighed at the emptiness. “Besides, isn’t it good to actually see the scene of the crime?”
“What type of clues are we looking for?” Nancy questioned from behind her mirror.
“It’s always good to see the crime scene, so as to ensure that you have it pictured correctly in your mind.” Hattie bent over and appeared to pick something up off the floor. She held up a bright shiny earring pinched between her fingers. “And we’re looking for a clue exactly like this one.”
By Douglas Goff
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Hattie sat on her bed studying the earring intently. It had an intricate gold and silver interloping design with a quarter diamond placed in a center setting. Although it was fairly simplistic in design, she was certain that it was expensive. It is unique. Someone must be looking for this.
She heard a noise that she hadn’t heard in a very long time. It was a giggle that had unexpectedly slipped from her very own lips. This is too much fun! The other ladies had agreed it was a hoot last night, after they had all made it safely back to her room. Her friends were all very excited about the case.
And the earring! The ladies thought it was a great find! Jubilee Joy believed that it meant the killer was rich. Narcoleptic Nelly thought it meant the killer was a female. Narcissistic Nancy added that their nemesis must be a pretty gal. Hattie knew that it guaranteed none of those things. Only facts could do that. After much hearty yawning, the ladies had departed to their own rooms just before dawn.
Attending meals wasn’t mandatory, and skipping them wouldn’t even be noticed until a resident skipped several. So, all four of the tired sleuths decided to sleep through breakfast and lunch. Hattie had awoken just after one o’clock.
Another noise caught her attention. A different noise that certainly hadn’t come from her. The rustling of paper, followed by some movement, caught her eye over by her door. What was that? Hattie jumped up and went over to the door. Someone had slipped a note under the crack at the bottom. By the time she got the door open, nobody was there.
Hattie shut her door and stared at the folded piece of paper sitting on her floor. She reached down and picked it up, her hand slightly shaking. Unfolding it, she stared at the words before her. What in tarnation?
Madam,
I’ve learned of your investigation into the Howell murder. I thought you should know that both he and Phil were vying for the amorous attentions of one, Becky Hazel. It was a torrid love triangle of sorts, and although strictly platonic in nature, created an intense rivalry between the two men, fueled by jealousy. Hope this helps your endeavors.
Now Hattie’s hand was shaking from excitement. Oh my, my, my. She had to reread it. Twice.
An hour later, Hattie and the Senior Sleuth Society were gathered in the small library. She passed the letter around to the group. After a lot of bubbling gasps and sighs, the ladies settled down.
“Thanks to our unidentified benefactor, we now have our first possible motive.” Hattie couldn’t keep from smiling.
“But who would give you this?” Narcissistic Nancy questioned, examining the note suspiciously, like she might spot a fingerprint.
“She doesn’t know, Nancy. That’s why she said ‘unidentified benefactor’," Chatty Cathy pointed out with a big shrug.
“Maybe our benefactor knows more than what was in the letter?” Nelly’s face fell forward onto the table, a snore popping out.
Hattie shook her head at the sleeping woman, then shrugged herself. “Regardless, someone in The Berkshire is an ally. We need to figure out who that person is.”
“How?” Joy asked.
Hattie rose. “We’ll have to figure it out later. For now, I must be going. I don’t want to be late. I have a meeting to attend.”
“With who?” All Senior Sleuth Society eyes turned on her, minus the set that was closed, after Cathy voiced the question.
Hattie grimaced. “Director Harold Chapman.”
By Douglas Goff
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“So, how are you adjusting to your new home at our fine facility?” The balding, pasty man in the fancy collared dress shirt smiled at Hattie as he shoved a paperback novel into his desk drawer.
The shorter woman barely managed to catch a glimpse of the title, Clues of Corpse River, written in blood red on a black cover. Figures Chapman would be into gore.
“Mrs. Hatfield? I asked how you are enjoying your stay at our little home?”
“The Berkshire? Oh, well enough.” She had never liked fake smiles. They mask real emotions.
“Don’t do that." The director's smile immediately turned upside down.
“Do what?”
“Call this facility The Berkshire. Not to be menial, but that’s my pet peeve. It’s not The Berkshire. It’s Berkshire Elderly Center. That’s what the facility is called. Berkshire Elderly Center.” Harold Chapman wrung his hands. “Can you call it that for me, Mrs. Hatfield?”
Director Harold Chapman had been running The Berkshire’s for the past eleven years. He had much bigger ambitions for himself, but did not have the mental capacity to rise above his current station in life.
“I can call it whatever you like, Mr. Chapman. I had no idea it was an issue.” Hattie smiled at the agitated man.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” His fake smile crawled back into place, reminiscent of a lazy cat climbing onto its favorite pillow. “Now that we have that settled, back to my original question. You have been here for a couple of weeks. Are you settling in nicely?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Chapman.”
“Good. Good. Have you made any friends?”
He may be a bureaucrat, but he certainly has a one-track mind.. “Yes. Nelly and Joy have befriended me.”
“Oh yes, fine residents. Very fine.” His smile flatlined. “I have heard rumors though.”
“Rumors?” This is taking an interesting turn.
“Yes. Rumors that you three ladies have been asking questions about the passing of Mr. Howell up on the Fourth Floor.” The man could drop the smile as quickly as he could raise it. “Why?”
“Just curious, I guess.” Her answer did not seem to appease the man. “Any other rumors?”
“Well, yes actually.” He continued to frown. “Rumors of secret meetings late into the night. Are you snooping? Because that would make you a Snoopy Snooperton, Mrs. Hatfield. And nobody likes a Snoopy Snooperton.”
What in tarnation is he talking about? A snoopy snooperwhat? “Secret meetings?”
“Yes. The walls at Berkshire Elderly Center have ears, Mrs. Hatfield. Nobody hoodwinks my staff.” He literally smirked.
“There were no secret meetings. It was just a few old ladies with insomnia getting together to chat. That isn’t against any of the rules is it?” Hattie matched his snooty smirk. “We're all adults here, aren’t we?” The bureaucrats never like it when we elderly play the ‘adult card’ in any situation.
“Of course, but I highly doubt Nelly has insomnia.” Now Chapman’s frown returned. There was nothing fake about it. “Let’s go back to your earlier comment about why you ladies are interested in Mr. Howell and his . . . unfortunate departure.”
Persistent little bugger. “Yes. As I said, we were merely curious.”
“Curious?” He rubbed his forehead, although his hairline had receded far enough to call it a fivehead. “We certainly don’t like it when our schedule rosters disappear and we have to reprint them. But I’m sure you don’t know anything about that do you, Mrs. Hatfield?”
Hattie ignored that dangerous topic. “Just why was Mr. Howell up there on the Fourth Floor? I heard it was for the incapacitated residents.”
“Ah, Mrs. Hatfield, how cute, but I'm not here to argue semantics with you.”
Condescending twerp. Does he even know what semantics means? “Why was Edward Howell on the fourth floor, Mr. Chapman?”
“He had a bad case of pneumonia, Mrs. Hatfield. Now how about we just let the dead rest in peace?” Mr. Chapman sighed. “We certainly don't use the Fourth Floor as punishment for food complaints.”
Odd, I didn't mention anything about our suspicions concerning Mr. Howell’s alleged issues with the facilities menu. But of course he would know about the complaints. “Is that what killed him, pneumonia?”
“Umm . . . unfortunately, yes. Now, I must insist that you let this issue go.” Another fake smile, albeit weaker.
“As you wish, Mr. Chapman. Like you said, the dead should rest in peace.” Hattie feigned a smile of her own.
“Yes. Yes I did, didn’t I.”
“So, why exactly did you want to see me, Mr. Chapman? I’m sure it wasn’t concerning this silly Mr. Howell matter.” Hattie knew it was exactly why he wanted to see her, but was curious as to any other motives. “Why the chit-chat?”
“Well, Mrs. Hatfield, I like to check on all of my new residents, just to make sure that everybody settles in nicely. Plus, your lovely daughter asked me to check up on you. She wanted me to make sure that you are being treated just like everyone else.” The director’s smile never wavered. “Is she . . .ah . . . single by any chance?”
Ewww. Hattie ignored the skin crawling question, now fixated on the man’s lips. Botox? Those lips look frozen. “Of course, Mr. Chapman. Everyone is treating me well.”
“Great! That’s exactly what we like to hear at Berkshire Elderly Center.” Chapman rose uncomfortably, signaling that the impromptu meeting had ended. “And I don’t expect to hear anymore about your unnecessary detective work on poor Mr. Howell.”
“Of course not.”
Hattie quickly rose, and as she reached the door, turned back to ask one more question. She pointed at a shiny object on his desk. “Where did you get such a lovely earring?”
Chapman picked up the gold and silver encased pearl earpiece and studied it. “Oh, this? I’m holding it for Mrs. Hazel. I run the ‘Lost and Found’ cubby. Seems she lost the other one and wanted me to keep an eye out for it. Why do you ask?”
“It’s beautiful.” Hattie excitedly exited the office without looking back. That was her first real conversation with the facility director. The other time they had met, her daughter Sarah had done most of the talking. Now she only had one impression of the man. What a suspicious wierdee.
By Douglas Goff
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The Senior Sleuth Society met that night to discuss the earring in Chapman’s office and to add it to the clue board.
“Does that mean he’s a suspect, Hattie?” Nel scratched her head.
She gave it some thought.“Hmmmm . . . not necessarily. He said that Hazel gave him the earring so he’d know what the other one looks like.”
“Ohh. . . ohh!” Jubilee Joy raised her hand excitedly. “He wasn’t here the night Mr. Howell died. Chapman was on vacation that week. He goes to that silly butterfly convention over in Ritzville every August. It couldn’t have been him!”
“Very good, Joy!” Hattie was pleased with their enthusiasm for the case. “So Chapman has an alibi and is definitely out. But, we still have plenty of viable suspects.”
“Yes, but that earring certainly puts Hazel to the top of the list.” Narcissistic Nancy nodded.
A knock on the door froze everyone in place. Who could that be at 11:30 at night? Oh no! Not Chapman?
The door slowly opened and a blue-tinted beehive hairdo popped into the gap. In came Chatty Cathy.
“What are you doing here?” Hattie frowned.
“I’m so disappointed in you. Hattie.” Cathy frowned back. “You started a secret society without me, your best friend?”
Bestfriend?
The woman clicked her tongue. “I mean, after all our deep conversations, and you left me out? I want in!”
“How did you even know about this?” Hattie was still having trouble figuring out what was going on.
“A little bird told me.” Chatty Cathy gave a quick glance over at a very guilty looking Jubilee Joy. “I want—
This time, Hattie cut her off, “It looks like you are already in, but you have to tone it down if you want to stay in.”
“Tone what down?” The outspoken woman looked genuinely confused.
“You must not interrupt and you have to let others speak. Everyone here is an equal member. That means you will have to remain quiet at times. Can you do that? Remain quiet?”
“Stay quiet? Yes, of course. Quiet is my middle name. I mean, once, in the sixth grade I didn’t say a word all day. My mother thought I was . . .” Cathay caught herself, then made a zipper motion across her lips.
They went over a few other things, including a planned visit to interview Hazel. It was decided that would be a worthwhile endeavor. Then Hattie shared more exciting news.
“Edgar Howell died from a heart attack.”
“A heart attack, Hattie?” Joy frowned. “Where does that leave our case?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. Detective Steele said it was brought on by an overdose of sildenafil.”
“Silden-what?” Nel shook her head.
“That’s the medical term for Viagra.” Hattie revealed, barely unable to hide her excitement.
Nancy giggled. “Holy smokes, he died from erectile dysfunction medication!”
“What a wild story!” Chatty Cathy clapped her hands rapidly. “Taken out by the little blue pill.”
“From the sounds of it, several of them.” Hattie grinned, then admonished, “Don’t you even think about it, Cathy. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Me? I haven’t told anyone about your little club, not like some people.’ The woman conspicuously nodded her beehive hairdo towards Jubilee Joy.”
When the meeting ended and the ladies went to leave, Art Anica was standing outside the door, preparing to knock.
“May I come in.” He shuffled his feet. “I’d like to talk with you.”
| Author Notes | The spacing came out weird on this chapter and I couldn't fix it. |
By Douglas Goff
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By Douglas Goff
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By Douglas Goff
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Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society. They decide they need to visit Room 413, where Mr. Howell died. There, they discovered an earring. Hattie's investigation didn't make Director Chapman happy. Finally, Hattie discovered a Last Will And Testimony showing that Attendant Hazel inheritrd all of Mr. Howell's assets.
New:
“What are we going to do, Hattie?” Nelly asked her as she walked in with a large bag at her side. “Mrs. Hazel was outside my door last night.”
“And mine as well. She took Chapman’s orders seriously and patrolled the halls.” Nelly frowned.
The Senior Sleuth Society was gathered in the main reading room, excitedly discussing their situation amidst the lite chatter of several other residents. Nobody seemed to be paying them any attention.
Their numbers had grown to six. Miss Hattie, Jubilee Joy, Narcoleptic Nelly, Art Antica, Chatty Cathy, and Narcissistic Nancy. The toxicology report had sent the mystery into overdrive, pushing the case towards its conclusion.
Art Romantica cleared his throat. “How are we going to meet?”
The woman smiled at her anxious counterparts and said, “Just like this.”
Hattie pulled their caseboard out of the big bag, and sat it in a chair, facing the group. Her friends stared at her with their mouths hanging open.
Finally, Joy found her voice, “What are you doing? Aren’t you worried people will see what we are doing?”
“No, because we have uncovered enough clues and information to solve this case. So let’s solve it.” Hattie smiled and pointed at several names:
Director Harold Chapman
Nurse Debra Brown
Attendant Janice Cooley
Attendant Harvey Marsh
Attendant Becky Hazel
Attendant Jimmy Williams
Attendant Carmen Marsala
Maintenance Main Bill Henderson
Pharmaceutical Phil Barnes
“So here’s our list of suspects. Who did we eliminate?” Hattie pressed.
Chatty Cathy raised her hand. “I was quietly minding my own business when Helen told me that she was playing high-dollar poker with several of the attendants the night Howell passed. Harvey, Marsh, Jimmy Williams, and CArmen Marsala were all there.”
Hattie smiled. “Awesome. What about Cooley?”
“Janice?” Art chuckled. “She runs those games every Thursday and is usually the big winner. That woman is a card shark.”
“Okay, who else can we eliminate?”
“We know that Chapman was out of town at his butterfly convention the day of the murder.” Nel said.
“And Bill Henderson is too disabled to have been involved.” Art reminded them.
“What about Nurse Debbie? Wouldn’t she have the best access to Viagra?” Nel questioned.
“No. She can’t prescribe those.” When Art saw all of the ladies staring at him, he blushed, and added, “Not that I was checking.”
“We’ll, anyways, that’s a good start.” Hattie pointed at the word ‘Methods’. “So we only had poison and overdose.”
“And thanks to your Detective Dreamy, we know it was a heart attack brought on by an overdose of Viagra.” Nancy seemed happy to have added to the conversation. “Seems to me, this murder keeps coming right back to the love triangle.”
“So that leads us where all great mysteries are solved. The clues we uncovered.” Hattie pointed at the last column.
“Body was between the davenport and bed, an expensive earring stuck in the floorboards, a love triangle, and a last Will and Testimony.” Art read down the list, then scratched his head. “Nope, I don’t see it.”
"Well, Hattie snatched the will from Hazel's desk. It interestingly revealed that not only was a recipient as she had mentioned, but she was the sole benefactor of all of Mr. Howell's assets." Joy revealed.
This caused the rest of the group to break into animated discussion.
Hattie cleared her throat, quieting the others. “Look at the clues and tell me who killed Mr. Howell, and how, and more importantly why?”
CHARACTERS:
Key Residents
Hattie May Hatfield-New resident who used to be an author
Katherinne Beck-Chatty Kathy, a resident who talks constantly
Jubilee Joy-Bubbly lady
Narcoleptic Nelly-Plump, purple-fashioned lady, who falls asleep
Art Antica-A cold, but cute resident
Jerk Beefy-An amorous sleazy resident
Moaning Lisa-Jerk Beefy's girlfriend
Narcissistic Nancy-Pretty lady who loves the mirror
Lesser Residents
Grumpy Gus-A cranky, very old residents
Barfett-a slovenly resident who eats sloppy
Windy Wendy-A resident who constantly passes gas
Pharmacuetical Phil Barnes-Supplies pills to the male residents
Employees
Harold Chapman-Pencil pushing Berkshire Director
SUSPECT Debra-The Berkshire Nurse
SUSPECT Mrs. Janice Cooley-Attendant
SUSPECT Harvey Marsh- Attendant
SUSPECT Becky Hazel- Attendant
SUSPECT Jimmy Williams-Attendant
SUSPECT Carmen Marsala-Attendant
SUSPECT Bill Henderson-Maintenance Man
Deceased
Edward Howell-Sent to the 4th floor, then suspiciously died
Paul Hatfield-Hattie's deceased police detective husband
Extras
Sarah Hatfield-Hattie's oldest daughter
Detective Steele-Hattie's deceased husband's old partner
Marcy-Narcisistic Nancy's sister
By Douglas Goff
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Previously:
With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society. They decide they need to visit Room 413, where Mr. Howell died. There, they discovered an earring. Hattie's investigation didn't make Director Chapman happy. Finally, Hattie discovered a Last Will And Testimony showing that Attendant Hazel inheritrd all of Mr. Howell's assets. Now Hattie's group has gathered to solve thew mystery!
New:
"Well?" Hattie stared at her furrowed browed companions.
“We know that the last two people to see Edgar Howell alive were Hazel and Phil, making them our two key suspects.” Narcoleptic Nelly speculated.
“Even more suspicious is that Phil and Mr. Howell were both vying for Hazel’s attention,” Nancy added. “Has to be one of the two.”
“So which one did it, Hattie?” Art shrugged his shoulders.
“Come on Senior Sleuth Society. Look at the clues.” Hattie nodded at them with expectation.
Kathy raised her hand excitedly, “Okay. Me, me me! Let’s see . . . a love triangle between the three . . .or at least an ‘attention triangle’. . . Detective Steele said Howell died of a heart attack from too much viagra . . . who left a will leaving his money to Hazel.”
“Hazel stated she didn’t know about the will until after Mr Howell died. Poor man had no living relatives.” Art reminded them.
“That means it was Phil. He slipped Mr. Howell a lethal boner concoction so he could have all of Hazel’s attention.” Nancy deduced while staring into her mirror. “Very romantic in an odd sort of way.”
Everyone looked at Hattie, who said, “Nope. You are forgetting the two clues we found in room 312.”
“Two? You just found Hazel’s earring.” Joy frowned.
“Yes. I remember that Mr. Howell died halfway across the room, heading for the davenport, like somebody was there. He was up when he had his heart attack.” Nel deduced, scratching her head.
Jubilee Joy started bouncing with excitement. “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe I missed it. When we interviewed Hazel, she said she had lost her earrings the same day Mr. Howell had died!”
“So?” Art shrugged.
“So she also said that she had not seen Edgar Howell for two days. That’s not possible if the earring was in his room.” Joy clapped her hands.
“She lied!” Art exclaimed eagerly.
“Yes, and of course she knew about the will. Howell would have told her if he was after her attention.” Nel determined.
“So, Attendant Hazel is our killer. For his money?” Nancy stared at Hattie.
“Very good, my friends. You solved it. Hazel got the pills from Phil. She went to Mr. Howell’s room that night and gave him the overdose of Viagra under the guise of seducing him. He had a heart attack when he got up to take her on the davenport.” Hattie beamed proudly at her group.
“So what now, Hattie?” Joy looked nervous. “Do we call the police?”
“No. We don’t do anything.” Hattie frowned.
“What? Why not?” Art shook his head.
Hattie’s face tightened. “Because I made the whole case up.”
The others all began to talk . . .but Joy raised her hands and took over. “What do you mean? The whole thing was faked?”
“Yes. I got the idea when you and Nel approached me about Mr. Howell’s death, I really did place some calls and learned that he had actually died of a heart attack, but it wasn’t suspicious. I also learned that he had no family so didn’t see any harm.” Hattie shrugged. “I never picked Hazel’s earring up off the floor. It had been in my hand the entire time. I actually found it on the floor of her office the day Nelly had fallen asleep in my room. When I went to get Hazel she was sleeping and I saw it buried into the carpet near her chair. I got the idea to use it in our caper.”
“But you found the will, Hattie.” Joy accused. “You took it from Hazel’s desk.”
“Did you actually see me take it? Or did you just see it in my hand?” Hattie shrugged again. “My daughter Sarah works in a law office. She drew it up for our little murder mystery.”
“But why, Hattie?” Nel asked the million dollar question.
Hattie’s mind went back to that day in the dining room when she first met Joy and Nel and saw a way out of her loneliness and remembered what she had thought at the time. Suspicious death? Mystery? Perfect. This is right up my alley.
“Why? Because when I came here I had no friends. I was very lonely. So . . . I went back to what I knew best. Murder.” She sighed.
“Murder?” Joy looked confused.
Hattie went to the nearby bookshelves and began pulling books off, tossing them to her companions. They included Crimes of Sodden House, The Cypress Hill Killings, Three Rivers of Blood, Clues of Corpse River, and What Lies Beneath The Lilies.
“These were all written by Cora Black?” Art held up Three Rivers Of Blood.
“Black was my maiden name. When I was a child, the adults all called me Cora, short for incorrigible. I used that as my pen name when I published. It sounded better than Hattie Hatfield.” She shrugged.
Chatty Cathy shook her head then whistled. "I had heard you were a writer, but you're telling us you're the famous Cora Black?”
“Well, west coast famous, but yes, guilty as charged.” Hattie smiled.
Art was staring at her, his face unreadable. “ I don’t remember seeing any case like ours in any of your books.”
“It just came to me as we went along.” Hattie looked nervous, realizing the entire reading room was now staring at her. She wasn’t quite sure how long they had all been silent. “Look, are you guys mad at me? I just wanted some friends.”
After an awkward silence, Jubilee Joy started clapping. Soon, she was joined by others until the entire room was applauding. Hattie stood there stunned. “How did all these other people know?”
Chatty Cathy gingerly raised her hand. “I told just a few people what we were doing. Well, a few each day. By the end of the first week it had spread all over and people wanted updates.”
Art Romantica came to his feet. “That’s how I found out. Guess I am a co-conspirator in your little drama bexause I was the one who slipped the note under your door since I was aware of the innocent flirtations between Hazel, Phil, and Mr. Howell. I thought it was a genuine clue.”
“Art, are we good?” She rubbed her hands together nervously.
Art came over and kissed Hattie on the forehead. “Of course. You’re brilliantly clever.”
“I don’t know about brill—”
“Do another one,” Barfett shouted from the back of the reading room..
Windy Wendy made a suspiciously unpleasant sound, then seconded, “Yes, but you must include more people.”
“I want in!” Grumpy Gus actually had what could possibly pass for a smile on his face.
“Yes indeed, Hattie, this is the most fun we’ve had in years. Can you please do another one?” Her friend Joy smiled warmly at her.
Hattie cleared her throat and began pacing. “It’s interesting you asked, because I recently heard some disturbing information about a cook who disappeared from this very building ten years ago, and was neither seen, nor heard from again.”
“Old Mister Mcgillicuddy?” Joy bounced with excitement
“Yes, the very exact one. Of course, we will need to keep our investigation strictly amongst those of us in this very room. ” Hattie May Hatfield was finally home.
THE END (Or is it?)
| Author Notes | A short one . . . but fun to try a new avenue! I appreciate everyone who hung in there with me!!! |
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