Getting Old Is Criminal by Rita Lakin Page A

of her card and gives it to me. “When you see him, tell him everyone at Grecian Villas misses him.”
    When we are outside, we take a last lingering glance at the spacious Grecian Villas. Bella and Sophie sigh.
    “Only five thousand a month,” says Evvie. “A mere pittance.”
    “Who cares,” says Ida as she walks quickly toward our car. “I like where we live better.”
    “I can’t wait to meet this guy,” says Sophie.
    “Me, too,” says Evvie.
    “Me, three,” says Bella.
    “I can wait. Believe me,” says Ida, our lady of petulance, “no man can be that good.”
    Yes, some can. I think of Jack, hoping he’ll have returned my call by the time we get home. I’m anxious to put this fight behind us.
    But I admit I’m intrigued about “Romeo” as well. Lover or killer? I wonder. Hopefully we’ll find out soon.

    TEN
    CASE REVIEW
    Ida pours us another round of coffee, all decaf-feinated except for mine. We are in her apartment this time around. Shoes off, exhausted from our meeting this morning and lunch on the way home. I need my nap and am dying to check my answering machine, but the girls want to rehash what we know so far.
    Ida’s place is sparsely and simply furnished, spotlessly clean. She isn’t into any specific type of décor. Her living room walls are covered with photos of her grandchildren, who live in California.
    They are very old photos, since she has not heard from her family in years, even though she continues to write to them. It’s obviously heartbreaking for her, but she has yet to tell any of us what caused this terrible rift. Nor are there any photos G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 6 9
    of her ex-husband—she never talks about him, either.
    Her “Florida room”—as enclosed sunrooms are called down here—is for her many crafts. She sews, embroiders, quilts, and knits. Most of which she gives away. She makes stuffed toys for poor children at Christmas. So many things to keep her busy through the lonely nights?
    Sophie warms up some macaroons in Ida’s toaster oven. To make them softer, she claims.
    Once the food and drinks are ready, the meeting of Gladdy Gold and Associates is off and running.
    First we discuss the latest Peeper incident with Dora Dooley.
    “We should do another follow-up, anyway,”
    Evvie says, “before we call Morrie again.” The girls all adore Jack’s son, Detective Morrie Langford. Not only because they think he’s cute, but because he’s always willing to help us—after I do a little convincing. Frankly, right now I’m not in any hurry to face Jack’s son with our relationship so up in the air.
    “Maybe Dora remembers some details by now.
    Maybe she did get a look at the Peeper,” adds Ida.
    “I’ll do it,” I say quickly. Any excuse to stop by Phase Six and maybe run into Jack. Or casually drop in on him. He has to be home sometime.
    Now Ida is ready to give her report as everyone noshes contentedly.
    “I got the manager of the Seaside Cliffs Retirement Resort in Sarasota on the phone a few 7 0 • R i t a L a k i n
    minutes ago, and it was as if I was talking to that Mrs. Gordon at Grecian Villas. Same story.
    Everybody loved Philip. He was the belle of the ball, so to speak.”
    “You mean, beau of the ball.” Evvie can’t resist.
    Ida ignores her. “The really interesting part is that he had a special lady he lived with who died of heart failure. A Mrs. Elsie Rogers. Same response.
    He moved out because he couldn’t bear living where everything would remind him of his beloved. Boo-hoo. Everybody cried at the funeral and they cried when Philip Smythe left. Sound familiar?”
    We exchange glances. This is a surprise.
    “Sure sounds like a pattern to me,” Evvie says as she helps herself from a bowl of strawberries.
    Sophie asks, “So what kind of pattern?
    Ida, not surprisingly, spouts a caustic opinion about men. “My guess is he picks out a woman in a retirement place. Gets all the sex he wants ’til she drops