Nursing a Grudge: An Earl Walker Mystery

Chapter 5

The kid was almost out of sight before it registered with Earl that he had been left behind. Hands on his wheels, he decided to follow. He had the disadvantages of (1) being tired from all the earlier excitement; (2) not being as fast as the young man; and (3) not being able to quite remember his way back.

Making a vow to soon sit down with some sort of map of Candlewick Retirement Community, he made a mental note to become fully acquainted with the exact layout of the place—if only for the few days left before the place was shut down forever.

The second time Earl passed the chapel, he reoriented himself and was on his way. Probably. About two-thirds of the way there, he had to stop. His hands were starting to cramp. This was more activity than he’d had in, well, years.

He could imagine the scene of the crime. There would be a scuffle. Maybe a full-blown fight. Did the boy have the stuff to defend himself?

Waiting to catch his breath, resting his hands, Earl wondered what in the world he thought he was doing. What if he got to the scene there and the kid was involved in some sort of karate fight?

What good could an old man in a wheelchair do? He was in no condition to back the boy up.

In the old days he could have helped big time. Back when he was a metro bus driver, Earl had the stuff to take care of troublemakers. That is, until—

But look at him now. Broken-down. Defeated. Just a grumpy, withered, lonely old man in a wheelchair. What did he have to offer anyone? Really?

By the time Earl found his way back to Kent’s apartment, the door was open. Light streamed into the dark hallway. Earl stopped his chair short of the door. He looked this way and that, making sure the coast was clear. That young man, Caine, was nowhere to be seen.

Earl heard a gruff voice cut into the darkness. “What’s goings on out here?” One of the doors had opened after all, an old man standing there. Earl did not recognize him. The man demanded, “Do I gotta calls the cops?”

“Mind your own business,” Earl grumbled.

The man, halfway out his apartment door, stood in his robe and fluffy slippers. Earl didn’t want to think what might (or might not) be under that ragged terrycloth robe. The man pointed at Earl. “What’s all the noises out here?”

Earl raised his eyebrows. “You heard something? Did you see who it was? Perhaps somebody dressed in black?” He squinted. “Maybe a foreigner?”

The apartment door across the way opened. A woman’s voice cracked, “What’s all the fuss?”

The man pointed at Earl. “This fella’s makings all kindsa racket.”

“I am not!” Controlling his tone of voice, Earl tried again. “Ma’am, I was just passing by. Now, maybe if this gentleman could—”

“Like fun,” the man said. “I hears the noise, I wents and gots my glasses, and then I looks out the window and sees you right here.” The man shook his fist at Earl. “Now, knocks off the noise so some people can gets some sleep!”

Earl turned his attention to the woman, her gray hair exploding in frizz. “I am just an innocent bystander.” Seeing her notice the wheelchair, Earl added with a forced chuckle, “So to speak.”

He pointed at the other man. “This gentleman here seems to have heard some sort of disturbance and, instead of getting his facts straight, thought it would be easier to accuse—”

The man in the doorway cursed. “Fine. Fine.” He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like winding himself up to start moving again. “I’m gonna calls the police force.” He shut the door.