Long in the Sleuth: A Tension on a Pension Mystery by Carol Novis

Author:Carol Novis [Novis, Carol]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2024-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

 Chapter Sixteen 

R iva and I were relieved, but a little glum when the detectives left. Fortunately, we had escaped with nothing but a tongue-lashing from the cops and a worried look from Josh.

I had fed Josh a cock-and-bull story about getting locked in Ms. Robins’ office by mistake, and although he didn’t really buy it, he seemed to have reserved judgment. At least he wasn’t dragging me out of the Menorah by the hair. Maybe he was beginning to think that Officer Smyth had a point when she claimed I was s. e. n. i. l. e.

On the other hand, we were still being treated with indulgence, as if we were biddies with wild imaginations, rather than sensible people who should be listened to. There was a murderer on the loose in the Menorah, and the police refused to believe it. Of course the residents believed it, but since they were old, no one believed them either. Josh might well believe it too, but he wasn’t going to be able to stop me searching for the truth if I could help it, or so I sincerely hoped.

The police wanted us to stop investigating. ‘Stay out of trouble’ was the way they put it—but if we did, who would be killed next? No, we had to keep going.

The entrance lobby was crowded with people bidding farewell to Joyce Kramer, who was moving out. Her daughter dragged suitcases and the parrot cage to a waiting car, while Joyce hugged a bevy of sorrowful women.

“Good-bye! Take care.”

And our resident super-hypochondriac was gone.

Mollie, of course, was in her element. Sitting in state on the sofa, she proclaimed, “I heard that Joyce is moving into the Mount Carmel Assisted Living Residence. She’s afraid to live here, now that people are getting killed. Here, look at this,”

She handed me a colorful brochure. “Everybody found this in their mail boxes this morning.”

It appeared that the owners of the Mount Carmel Retirement Residence, a competitor of the Menorah, were making hay while the sun shone, so to speak. They had evidently heard about the tsores at the Menorah, and were actively recruiting.

I glanced at the brochure and read,

“The Mt. Carmel Senior Residence, offers an elegant and safe community which promotes well-being in a home-like, well-protected environment. Respectful independence, supportive services, and Jewish traditions all with family and community involvement, along with supreme concern for security…”

Right, I got the idea.

Oy vey. What was Ms. Robins going to think about all this? And more important, what were her bosses going to think? She was in trouble. I looked around for her. Ms. Robins was in the lobby, but what had happened to our usually self-confident warden?

Pristine no more, her hair, normally styled into a sleek, lacquered helmet, was messy and oddly off kilter. She was wearing the usual business-like suit, but her blouse was buttoned unevenly and there was a run in her hose. Even more alarming, her usual air of authority seemed to have disappeared. She seemed

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