WHO YA GONNA CALL?
The Whodunnit Club
AKA Brinkley’s Wrinklies
What on earth is a Whodunnit Club?
Let me explain. Gazza Brinkley put together a small group of geriatric detective wannabes to solve problems in the Sunset Retirement Home. Generally speaking, there aren’t too many earth-shattering problems in the Home except when residents have to be moved into Assisted Living — that causes a helluva ruckus because nobody wants to be reminded that’s where we’re all headed sooner rather than later. Still, it’s not a problem that can be investigated or solved by The Whodunnit Club. Declining old age is a fact, no question about it.
But some issues need sorting out, and that’s when Gazza steps in. When a problem arises, he calls a meeting of his gals on Skype, which seems bloody ridiculous because we all live in the Retirement Community part of the facility and could easily meet up in the café. That, however, isn’t clandestine enough for Gazza, who, truthfully, is a total wanker, and fancies himself as Charlie (With the Angels).
Gazza is a born-and-bred Aussie who talks with a fake British accent and sticks his nose in, generally where it‘s not wanted. We girls love a bit of mystery, so we play along with Gazza’s nonsense.
The other members of the Whodunnit Club are Gloria and Phyllis. I’m Nancy, and probably the biggest stuff-up of the group. I always wear sunglasses because I once tried to emulate the It Girls, Gloria and Phyllis, by having a facelift. Because I tend to attract bad luck, I began cautiously with just an eyelift. Now, my left pupil turns inward, and the eye sags slightly and runs like a river in bright sunlight.
I recently appeared on Skype without my glasses, and Gazza cried, “Good God, woman!” and dry-retched before disconnecting the call.
New rule: Nancy must wear glasses at all times in public.
Gazza is an equal-opportunity wanker. He likes to remind Phyllis that she was (is) a bit of a tart, and he shamelessly tries to exploit Gloria for her wealth.
About a month or so ago, we were summoned by Gazza to a Zoom call.
“Whodunnits!” Gazza announced as he twirled his nasty moustache. We have a situation.” He flicked his eyes briefly toward me, no doubt checking to see that I was obeying ‘the rule’.
“Old Cec is missing!”
“He often goes off; he has dementia,” I reminded everyone.
Gazza scowled at the interruption and continued. “He’s been missing for five hours. Management has asked us to look into it.”
I doubted that very much. The Whodunnit Club did not have the Board’s seal of approval. Old people were supposed to be not seen nor heard — looks like Cec took that directive to heart.
“When was he last seen?” asked Gloria, who probably hoped she could throw some money at the problem and then pop off to the beauty salon.
Gazza cleared his throat and read from notes. Seriously? He needs notes?
“Cec was last seen after breakfast in the Assisted Living quarters. Several female residents reported seeing him walking with his cane through the corridors with his old fellow hanging out. He accosted several residents in wheelchairs by stopping them and demanding they perform a breathalyser test.”
Phyllis snorted her coffee, and Gloria tsk-tsked as she filed her nails.
“Again?” I queried. “Shouldn’t the staff be keeping a closer eye on him?”
“Not our problem,” Stated Gazza. He put his notes down. “Wrinklies, I want you to search the Assisted Living quarters and grounds thoroughly. You’d better split up.”
“Surely that’s already been done,” complained Phyllis.
“Obviously not well enough,” retorted Gazza, signing off abruptly.
The three of us decided which area to cover, and I set off with Phyllis to scour the gardens. Gloria agreed to check around the Assisted Living area.
I met Phyllis outside the rec hall.
“You go around the seating and walking areas, Nance. I’ll go to the outer regions of the gardens.
“My name’s Nancy,” I reminded her.
She shrugged as if my name preference was irrelevant, then wandered off.
I spent the next half hour searching the lower part of the gardens and questioning residents enjoying the outdoors. I then decided to catch up with Phyllis to see how she was going.
The main path is divided into several walking areas. I took the one leading to the outer gardens, hoping to spot Brian, the handsome bloke tasked with garden maintenance. Truthfully, I have a bit of a silly crush on him even though I know I am not Phyllis or Gloria. I still believe in fairytales — daft at my age, I know. He doesn’t know about my botched eye, and I do not intend to let him see it.
I rounded a bend just in time to see Phyllis blowing a kiss to Brian, turning prettily on her heels and waggling her scrawny arse as she departed.
Brian spotted me and waved. I waved back.
“Hi Nancy!” he called, wiping sweat from his brow and tipping back his wide-brimmed hat.
“Hi!” I call back. Clever! Right?
Phyllis walked up to me, clearly displeased that I had interrupted her flirty behaviour.
“Did you find anything about Cec?” I enquired, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
Brian walked over to join our conversation. “I haven’t seen the old codger,” he offered. “I hope you find him soon.” He directed a lovely smile my way.
Too late, I saw the spite cloud Phyllis’s face as she reached up to roughly rip off my sunglasses. She threw them at Brian’s feet with a nasty laugh, then turned and walked huffily away.
Brian is a gentleman — a seventy-year-old, gorgeous, well-built gentleman. He bent to retrieve my glasses and placed them gently on my face in one fluid movement. I knew he had to have seen my disfigurement, but his face didn’t betray him.
“We don’t want the harsh sunlight to cause you discomfort,” he said, then patted my arm gently before returning to his gardening duties.
It took me a moment to galvanise myself into action. I was shocked by Phyllis’s behaviour and warmed by Brian’s concern, but I still had a job to do.
Cec had to be found before nightfall.
I found Gloria and Phyllis at the café. Phyllis proudly shared her garden escapades and how Brian saw me without sunglasses. “You should have seen Brian,” gloated Phyllis. “Nance’s face completely repulsed him.”
Gloria shrugged without comment and then spotted me standing nearby.
“Any news?” she enquired with a sympathetic look.
I shook my head. “Nope, if you like, we could doorknock the residential community. Someone must have seen something.”
“Would you mind?” asked Gloria. “I have a nail appointment next door.” She indicated the onsite beauty salon.
Phyllis declined, pleading her own appointment with somebody and waved vaguely in the direction Brian was last working.
Feeling sad that Phyllis seemed to have her talons into Brian, I said I would report to Gloria when I had more news.
“So much for the Club,” I grumbled as I knocked on the first of the fifty front doors in the residential area. Ten doors later, I was no closer to discovering Ces’s whereabouts.
Feeling parched and dispirited, I was about to search for a cold drink when Brian appeared on the pavement in front of me.
“Here,” he grinned, sending my knees weak, “I thought you might be thirsty.” He held out a sparkling cold mineral water.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I whispered girlishly. “I thought you had a date with Phyllis.”
“Are you kidding?” he appeared to shudder. “Why would you think that? She came looking for me a few minutes ago and told me you were busy doorknocking. I figured you could use some help, seeing as you are working alone.”
“Can you do that?” I asked, worried about his gardening gig.
“I don’t see why not. I’m going to be a resident here soon. Just waiting for Settlement in a couple of weeks.”
I could feel my cheeks flaming red.
Brian became all business-like. “Okay, I’ll take the odd numbers; you take the even. See you back here in an hour. Okay?”
“Thanks a lot,” I mumbled, shuffling my feet.
Brian tipped his gardening hat and left me to it. I suspected he would have a devil of a job extracting himself from some of the old ladies he would encounter on the way.
An hour later, we met up where we had begun. Brian was shaking his head as he approached. “Not a single sighting. I even peered into the windows of a few houses where nobody was home.”
“I did too,” I grinned.
“The only places left are Phyllis’s and Gloria’s,” mused Brian.
“Surely you don’t think…?” A funny shiver ran down my spine. “Wait here!” I called, rushing off. “I’ll fetch Gloria.”
“I’m going to get the manager,” he replied. “I’ll say we need to do a wellness check on Phyllis.” Brian ran off in the opposite direction.
Turned out we did need to do a wellness check, but not for Phyllis.
With the manager, Mary, in tow, we found Cec sitting, strapped firmly into a wheelchair, happily watching porn on Phyllis’s 65-inch television. Because Ces has advanced dementia, he was blissfully unaware he was missing. What Phyllis had in mind for him is something none of us wants to know. Her lawyer might, though.
Mary freed Ces’s hands, whereupon he promptly freed his old fellow and began blathering about speed traps and breathalysers. Mary was appalled. Gloria, Brian and I had a fit of the giggles all the way back to Assisted Living.
With Phyllis’s semi-permanent absence, Gazza asked Brian if he wanted to join the Whodunnit Club. Surprisingly, he agreed.
When everything settled down, I scheduled another surgery to fix my botched eye. They say it should be a resounding success. Somehow, it doesn’t seem as important anymore, but I might as well give it a go.
I was sitting, mulling over the pros and cons of my operation, when I received an unexpected Zoom call from Brian.
“Hi, Nancy,” he greeted me.
I knew I was blushing with pleasure. A silly giggle escaped my lips.
“There’s a situation,” Brian winked.
“Really?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Want to meet me in the back of the rhododendron garden in ten minutes…?”
When the tragic events of childhood begin to impact her adult life, Emily escapes to a happier place, one that exists in her mind.
A mysterious older woman befriends Emily, whose real world has become complicated by difficulties and weird coincidences.
Could the mystery woman be the catalyst behind all that is happening in Emily’s life?
Eventually, Emily is forced to consider, “It might be me.”
It Might Be Me by Raine Lore | Blurb Books Australia — Available in softcover or pdf.
