At breakfast, I mentioned that I would miss the exercise class because I had to take care of some business matters and would be away until mid-afternoon. No one cared. When the others left for their workout, I left too, but quickly sneaked back and waited inside my suite with my ear to the door. At ten fifteen, I heard a shuffling which paused occasionally for a quiet plop as Herman delivered the mail.
Soon after, I heard footsteps pass my door and stop at Willa’s. There was another plop and I quickly opened the door.
“Hello, Darcy.”
In his hand were two pieces of mail. He looked at me with surprise, fear, anger, and hatred, a lot of emotions on one face simultaneously.
“I thought you were away on business.”
“My business is here. I’ll bet those letters in your hand are Willa’s.”
“I was just …getting them for her.”
“She’ll be here in a moment. And you forgot the ones on the floor which are, I suspect, junk mail, while the ones in your hand are personal, right?”
He snarled comments about what he hoped the Deity would do to me and the marital status of my parents, but nothing worse than I had overheard students saying about me.
“Why, Darcy?”
A pause, then he seemed to sag like a bag of potatoes.
“Have you ever really loved anyone?” I didn’t think it was time to tell him about my first dog, a chihuahua named Lucrezia Borgia.
“Willa’s a wonderful woman and I love her. I wanted to cut her off from other people, have her all to myself.”
I didn’t know whether to feel admiration, pity, or contempt for him. The object of his twisted affections arrived and we all went into Willa’s suite to sort things out. The stolen mail had all been destroyed, of course. It was a painfully embarrassing quarter-hour. Should we report Darcy to the management, in which case he would be evicted, if not arrested? I left it up to Willa to decide. She told me later that she had decided to give him a second chance. Perhaps she was flattered by his ardent worship.
That afternoon I told Marilyn that I was moving out. She was hurt. “You don’t like your suite — or the food — or the other retirees?”
“No, everything’s fine, but I can’t take Laura’s workouts. Maybe I’ll come back when I’m in better shape.”
“You don’t have to do the exercise classes.”
“I know, but if I didn’t, I’d feel like a wimp.”
Willa caught me leaving with my last load of luggage.
“Thanks, Elmer — Rock. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Seeing you again was payment enough and learning about life in a retirement home.”
“Keep in touch.”
“I shall.”
Hank’s first question was if I had received all his notes.
“How many did you send?”
“Three.”
“I got one. Maybe the rest will arrive later. Besides, one out of three isn’t bad for Canada Post.”
There was a phone message. I hoped it was another case for Rock Tuff, the non-violent, geriatric detective, but probably it was a demand for the payment of my phone bill.
