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Oh boy. Grandma and the swingers.
“I was only gone for an hour and a half,” my mother said. “You might be able to catch her at the airport.”
“Which airport? What airline?”
“The one that goes to Florida,” my mother said.
“The Trenton airport has flights to Florida, but they’re limited. If Grandma is trying to get to Florida, she’ll probably fly out of Newark. So how will she get to Newark?”
“Myra Rulach or Ester Nelley. All her other friends have had their licenses confiscated.”
“Call them and see if they took Grandma to the airport.”
Ten minutes later my mom called back. “Ester Nelley took her to Newark Airport and dropped her off at United. You have to go get her.”
“Why me?”
“If I send your father he’ll personally put her on the plane. And I can’t go because I already took two Valium and had a calming cocktail.”
“It’s not even noon! And no one’s died.”
“Special circumstances,” my mother said. “I felt a migraine coming on. Anyway, you don’t have to live with this woman. You don’t know what it’s like. Last month she ran up a seventy-five-dollar bill on adult television. She said she was doing research on monkeys spanking fraternity men.”
Sick and yet disturbingly intriguing.
“Okeydokey then,” I said, “I’ll see if I can find Grandma.”
I drove Big Blue out of Ranger’s garage and took Route 1 to the turnpike. There wasn’t a lot of traffic at this time on a Sunday, but even with light traffic it wasn’t a great drive. Needless to say, I was the only one on the road in a powder blue and white Buick Roadmaster. I took the turnoff to the airport and parked in short-term parking. I ran into the United terminal and didn’t see Grandma.
I called my mom. “I’m at the airport, and I don’t see her,” I said. “A plane left for Miami twenty minutes ago. Call Ester back and see if Grandma was planning on taking that plane.”
I sat in one of the waiting areas and cringed when my mom called back.
“Ester said your grandmother was hoping to make the plane that just left. And then she was making connections for Key West.”
Great. Key West. It might as well be the moon.
I went to the ticket counter and got a ticket on the next flight out. It left at four-thirty and got into Miami at seven-thirty. The connecting Key West flight was at eight o’clock. Personally, I felt like Grandma was capable of taking care of herself, and if she wanted to go to Key West she should go to Key West. On the other hand, my mom was popping Valium and swilling down whiskey. And the spanking monkeys were troublesome. There was a small fear that Grandma would be romping around on a nude beach doing nooners with the swingers. I was no one to judge, but there were diseases to worry about.
I walked around the airport, ate a turkey wrap for lunch, and called Morelli.
“Did you get the bathtub in?” I asked him.
“Yeah. It looks good. Rooney came over and hooked up the plumbing.”
“And now?”
“Now we’re grilling burgers and sausages. You should come over.”
“Rain check. I’m in Newark Airport. Grandma decided to go to Florida to hook up with Mr. Wrong, so I’ve been dispatched to bring her back. I’m one flight behind her.”
“How do you know it’s Mr. Wrong?”
“I ran a background on him. He’s married, and he belongs to a swingers club.”
“There are still swingers clubs? I thought they went the way of the phone booth.”
“This one is in Key West.”
