along the senior community’s buildings to their right, and the beach on the left. They observed several people, presumably residents, promenading themselves or sitting on the property’s beachfront benches on that fine afternoon in April. The ocean scene was peaceful and tranquil. They soon engaged in shoptalk, taking advantage of their outdoor privacy.
Andi said, “Everything we’ve seen and heard so far is sweet and proper, and the place seems a haven, justifying its name.”
“I agree,” said Huber. “It will take time to dig underneath the surface. And if the digging gets me nowhere, you can assure the Ralphs that we tried. I’ll interview everyone concerned, without them realizing that they’re being interviewed.”
“You’re good at that! At my end, I’ll do a background check on each person, soon as you give me their names.”
“For starters, I can give you the names of the executive director, the in-house LVN nurse, and the front desk receptionist. Getting last names of residents might be a problem. The head honcho informed me the other day that they only go by their first names.”
Andi, full of confidence, stated, “You’ll think of somethin’, no doubt.” Then she said, “Best call or text me when you have info, not the other way around. I don’t want to interrupt talks you may have with suspects.”
“Strictly speaking, they’re not suspects yet. We don’t know whether any crimes have been committed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They had walked about half a mile and decided to turn around and head back to Shore Haven.
When they got to an unoccupied bench Andi said, “Let’s sit and enjoy the ocean view.” And pulling an iPad out of her touring bag, she suggested, “How about giving me those names now?”
Huber obliged with the names Dave Beaulieu, Bea Guinto, and Caitlyn Novark, spelling them out letter by letter.
Then she said, “If you want to stay for dinner, I’ll sign you in as a guest.”
“Thank you kindly, but I’d best be headin’ home. Oh, I almost forgot” - - she rummaged in her bag and dug out three bright-red skeins of yarn and a pair of knitting needles. “This should keep you busy camouflaging your purpose in this place.” she said.
Huber stared at the offering, then burst out laughing.
Before they parted Andi grinned and said, “I’ll leave you with the same advice you gave me when sending me off on undercover jobs: Live the role!”
CHAPTER 5
R. A. Huber moved in on a Tuesday. Bright and early on Wednesday morning, as she was about ready to head down to the dining room for breakfast, there was a knock at her door. She opened it and faced a young-looking Asian man who was actually 41 years old.
He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and said, “R. A.?”
“Yes. And you are?”
“Dr. Wang. May I come in?”
“Sure,” she said, letting him pass by her and closing the door behind him.
Since there was only one chair in her studio, and sitting on her bed seemed awkward, they both remained standing.
“I’m a physician with a medical practice in Ventura. I have committed to taking care of patients at Shore Haven. Every Wednesday morning, I come here to check on my patients.” He did his thing with the glasses again and continued, “My visit with you today is because you’re a new resident, and as such, I want to make you aware that I can be your doctor, if you wish.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” she replied, “but there is no need. I am happy with my own physician who gave me a clean bill of health when I had my yearly physical three months ago.”
He seemed embarrassed and said, “I totally understand. I introduce myself to all new residents to let them know that I’m available.”
“Thanks again, but no thanks.”
“Just checking,” he said, making a hasty retreat.
Huber thought; did I intimidate the young doctor?
Dr. Wang was riding the elevator down to the ground floor and thought, why did I let myself get rattled by that R. A. person? She’s just an old woman, and I’m an established doctor, for crying out loud! In his mind, he replayed the short conversation they’d had and could not recall anything unusual about it. So why the tense feeling? Forget about her, he told himself, as he exited the elevator and walked over to the assisted residents’ building to tend to his patients.
Breakfast was buffet style and R. A. helped herself to bacon, scrambled eggs, a piece of toast, and a cup of coffee. That was more food than she was used to eating in the morning, and she hoped that she would still have an appetite for lunch. She shared the breakfast table with a married couple, Jim and Jane, who immediately introduced themselves and welcomed the newcomer into the community. The woman was a youthful appearing blonde, and he, three years her senior, had dark-brown eyes with pure white hair. They both were fit for their ages.
Jane wanted to know, “What does R. A. stand for?”
“I’d rather not say. I dislike my first and middle names, so initials will have to do as we don’t use last names.”
Jane, who was fast approaching seventy, giggled like a schoolgirl and said, “With us it’s the reverse. We prefer our simple first names since Jim’s last name is a tongue twister.” She leaned close to Huber and whispered it into her ear. The latter paid keen attention, memorizing every syllable.
Then she said, “I saw you the other day at the front desk with your golf gear. Is there a golf course nearby?”
“Only about 10 miles away. Do you play?”
“Occasionally.”
Jim said, “We’ll take you along on our next round.”
“Thanks, but I’m without my clubs; I haven’t moved all my stuff yet.”
The conversation continued along those lines. They wanted to know if she played tennis. When she told them she’d replaced tennis with racquetball decades ago and that her tennis game was rusty at best, they maintained that playing mixed-doubles would be less challenging. Jim suggested that she partner up with a resident called Bill.
“I’ve already briefly met someone named Bill. I wonder whether that’s him,” R. A. remarked.
Jane said, “If he looked like a jock, it must be ‘our’ Bill.” And she giggled again.
The chat then got to more personal matters, and Huber learned that the pair had been married for over four decades and still kept their romance going strong. When they touched on the subject of her own status, she produced a sad face and shared that she was recently widowed.
For some reason that prompted them to finish their last bites of breakfast in a hurry and as they got up Jim said, “We’ll organize a match against you and Bill soon. I promise.”
The second they were out of sight,
