Gypped (11 page)

“You think I should invest in vitamins?” Zelda asked when he finally stopped talking. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“I’d be lying if I said no. Zelda, I want you to build your wealth, not deplete it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Zelda signed a piece of paper she didn’t read. Her glasses
were in the drawer and she was too tired to get them out. All she wanted to do was sleep. While Rich stuck the paper in his briefcase, she started to drift off. I should stay awake until he leaves, she told herself.

But when she opened her eyes he was gone.

W
hile Bobby Jo was in the bathroom getting ready to go down to the breakfast buffet, Roger waited in the living room of their suite. The manager of the hotel had upgraded them on their return from the drive-through chapel.

“What happy news!” he’d said as Bobby Jo announced to the front desk she’d be checking out of her room and into her husband’s. “If you’re giving up one of your rooms, then I really think you should be in one of our bridal suites, don’t you?”

“
Yippee
,” Bobby Jo had exulted.

My head is killing me, Roger thought, the sight of an empty bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the coffee table making him queasy. The last two days we’ve done so much drinking. I don’t think I’ll ever want another sip of the bubbly. He was also starting to feel a little funny inside, and it wasn’t just the hangover. Three months of nonstop Bobby Jo, then the quickie wedding. He felt like everything was a blur. This morning he missed his first wife more than ever.

“Honey, I’ll be just another minute or two,” Bobby Jo called.

“Take your time,” he answered quickly, feeling ashamed. Bobby Jo’s a good woman. Her husband died years ago and she’s still got a smile on her face. It’s not fair for me to be thinking
about Zelda’s mother. Nothing is going to bring her back. I’ve got to live in the present, although maybe I should have taken this more slowly. And I know leaving Zelda out wasn’t right. The two of us went through a lot together. I would hate it if she called me and said she’d gotten married. Heck, I want to be the proud father and walk her up the aisle.

Roger unfolded the newspaper and thumbed through it. His eyes focused on an article about divorce. “Second marriages are more likely to fail than first marriages,” it began. Roger threw down the paper. Marriage is a commitment. You have to work at it.

The bathroom door flew open. “
Ready!
” Bobby Jo enthused. “Do you think these shorts make me look fat?”

Roger laughed. “Not at all. You look beautiful.”

Bobby Jo came over and kissed him. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

The restaurant was large and ornate, with bright orange walls and crystal chandeliers. Buzzing, beeping, and musical sounds emanated from the casino. “Hello to the newlyweds,” the maître d’ greeted them, flashing a smile.

“We’ve been married thirty-six hours,” Bobby Jo crowed.

“That’s beautiful. Follow me.”

He led them to a private table, in the corner. “Now,” he said as they were seated. “Can I get you each a mimosa? Or perhaps a bottle of champagne?”

“Sure,” Bobby Jo said excitedly. “Roger, should we get the bottle?”

Roger put up his hand. “I think I’d better hold off. No champagne for me.”

Bobby Jo ordered a mimosa.

“A mimosa it is.”

“And I’ll have coffee,” Roger said.

“Perfect. I’ll put in the order. Enjoy.”

“Come on, Roger. I’m starving.” Bobby Jo led the way to the buffet table.

There was every kind of breakfast food imaginable. Roger ordered a vegetable omelet. While he was waiting, he made toast for himself. Bobby Jo stacked her plate with blueberry pancakes, then picked at the pan of bacon, choosing the crispiest pieces she could find. Returning to the table, they dug into their food.

“I can’t wait to see the house Zelda is staying in,” Bobby Jo finally said after polishing off half her plate. “I’d really love to leave here right after breakfast.”

“Honey, remember we talked about how dangerous it is to drive through the desert at the hottest time of day?”

“You’re right. What time should we leave, then?”

“Around four.”

“Sounds good. We should be there by nine. Maybe we can go to a late dinner. Los Angeles has so many great restaurants with lots of action.”

“Let’s see what time we get there and then decide.”

Bobby Jo sipped her coffee. “I have so much to do when we get back. First, I have to get rid of my apartment. All my things won’t fit in your place. Maybe we should buy a new house.”

Roger cleared his throat. “Bobby Jo, I don’t think that’s a good idea at our age.”

She smiled. “Don’t forget. I’m six years younger.”

“Yes, you are. Well, at my age, I don’t want to take on any debt.”

“I’m sure Zelda would lend you the money.”

“I’m sure Zelda would do anything I wanted. But I don’t want to borrow from her. If we ever needed money, she’d be right there. But a bigger house is something I’m not interested in.”

“You’re right,” Bobby Jo agreed. “What was I thinking?”

“We’ll have a nice life. I’d love to travel again.”

“Me too! I didn’t mean to look greedy.” Bobby Jo rubbed his hand with her finger. “You’re so neat and I have so much stuff. That’s all I was thinking. But don’t worry, I’ll get rid of as much as I can.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make room for you.”

Bobby Jo pushed back her chair. “I’m going up to get some fruit. Would you like anything?”

“No.”

Roger watched her walk over to the buffet table. A busboy with a tray of dirty dishes almost ran into her. A plate fell to the floor. Bobby Jo leaned down and picked it up for him. She’s a good woman. You made the right choice, Roger, he said to himself, you’re getting the jitters for no reason. He turned back to the table. A few minutes later he picked up his phone and dialed Zelda. It rang and rang. Finally her voice mail answered.

“Hey, honey, it’s Dad. Bobby Jo and I will be leaving Vegas around four. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay at your end. We thought we might take you out to dinner when we get there. Give me a call. I love you, sweetheart. Bye.”

Bobby Jo returned to the table as he put down his phone. “You called Zelda?”

“Yes. Just to check in. My wife always liked to speak to Zelda every day.”

Without a word Bobby Jo grabbed her napkin and placed it on her lap. She then folded her hands and looked over at Roger.

He waited.

“Roger,” she said, her expression one he’d never seen before. “I’m your wife now. Till death do us part.”

W
hen Regan got out of her car at Zelda’s, Norman was pulling up the driveway.

“Regan!” he yelled. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting!”

“Isn’t Zelda inside?”

“She can’t get out of bed. Whatever made her sick last night knocked the stuffing out of her.”

“That’s terrible. I hope she feels better soon,” Regan replied. Her purse dangled over her shoulder, a carrying case that contained her laptop, portable printer, and iPad in her right hand. She grabbed one of the grocery bags from Norman’s trunk with her free hand and followed him into the kitchen. A clock over the sink that matched the color of the appliances indicated the time was 12:05. “I’ll see how Zelda is.”

“Let me know when you’d like to have lunch.”

“I will, thanks. I’m fine for now.”

Upstairs all was quiet. Regan was surprised to find Zelda in a heavy sleep. She put down her carrying case, then pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and wrote a note.

Zelda, I’ll be downstairs. Call me on my cell phone when you wake up. I hope it rings! I’ll check back in on you in a little while. Regan. It’s just after noon.

Norman was standing in front of the refrigerator, throwing the leftovers from the party into a trash bag.

“Zelda’s in a dead sleep,” Regan told him.

“She is?” Norman asked as he sniffed a package wrapped in aluminum foil, then dropped it into the garbage. “Her financial adviser came by when I was leaving. He probably bored her to death.”

Regan laughed. “What do you mean?”

“When he gets started talking about stocks and bonds and blah blah blah blah blah, you’d better run for cover.”

“That’s his world,” Regan noted, taking a better look around the kitchen. “I keep telling myself I should learn more about finance.”

“You and me both. I’ve never ever balanced my checkbook.” He peeked into another mound of food surrounded by tinfoil, then sniffed it. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to check the leftovers from last night, since I’m throwing everything out anyway.”

The package landed in the trash with a thud.

“You think Zelda got sick from something she ate?”

Norman shrugged. “Who knows? This morning Zelda asked me if she thought someone might have spiked her drink.”

“She did?” Regan asked.

“Yes.”

“But it was her party. That’s the kind of thing that happens when you’re out at bars or with people you just met. Do you think she’s concerned about someone who was here?”

Norman pulled his head out of the refrigerator and looked straight into Regan’s eyes. “You’re right! She must be suspicious of somebody to even ask that question. I hope it’s not me!”

“It’s not you, Norman. She wouldn’t have talked about having
me check out her father’s new wife in front of you if she didn’t trust you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Every instinct I have tells me that she trusts you implicitly.” Regan smiled. “Whether she should or not is another story.”

“Regan!”

“I’m just kidding. Tell me about the financial adviser who was here today.”

“His name is Rich Willowwood. You met him last night.”

“Where does he work?”

“He has his own investment company in the valley.”

“Where did she meet him?”

“He advised the woman who left Zelda her money. Tell me you’re not going to love the person who forwards you a check for eight million.”

Regan thought for a moment. “He doesn’t even look like he’s thirty years old yet. He couldn’t have been handling her money for long.”

“I guess not.”

“How old was that woman?”

Norman rolled his eyes. “This is an exasperating topic for me. I should have been nicer to her.”

“How old?”

“She was ninety-two. But she didn’t look it. Boy, was she feisty.”

“What was her name?”

“Florence Natalie.”

“Do you have any idea who was handling Natalie’s money before Rich?”

“Who was handling Natalie’s money before Rich was born?” Norman asked, pushing his glasses back on his nose.

Regan shrugged. “I guess all that matters is whether he’s doing a good job.”

“I never got involved in Zelda finances,” Norman pronounced. “I don’t want to seem like I’m looking for anything from her. She knows that.”

“I’m sure she does. When she wakes up I’ll ask her more about Rich. What do you know about his girlfriend?”

“Heather’s a lawyer with a firm downtown. Zelda has had dinner with them a few times. I wasn’t invited.”

“Have they been going out for long?”

“For as long as I’ve known them.”

“And how did Gladys enter the picture?”

“She was Natalie’s bookkeeper.”

“So Gladys has been associated with Rich for a while, then.”

“I guess.”

“Heather isn’t Zelda’s lawyer, is she?”

“No. Another firm downtown.” Norman paused. “Dewey Cheatem and Howe,” he said, then exploded with laughter. “It’s such a stupid joke,” he said, covering his mouth with his hand, “but I crack up every time I hear it.”

Regan laughed. “It is a stupid joke.”

“I can’t remember the firm Zelda uses,” Norman continued, an occasional laugh still bursting forth. “It has about six different names. You should see their letterhead. I wondered if they fight over whose name goes first.”

“Maybe they take turns,” Regan quipped. “I think I’ll set up my laptop on the table in here.”

“There’s no Internet service.” Norman’s eyes twinkled. “You’re not surprised, are you?”

“I shouldn’t be.”