CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was 11:50 that morning when we sat down in Millie’s Diner. Maybe it was nerves or the lousy food I had been eating of late, but I was starving. And when I’m starving, I want one of everything on the menu. Kristen, the hazel-eyed, somewhat flippy waitress, came running over to our table. She was as excited as if she’d just found out that she’d hit the lottery.

“Oh, Lou, I have been thinking all about you and your news story! I’ve been telling everyone who comes in all about you. You’re a big celebrity here in town!”

“Who, him?” Pawler asked. “What, are you kidding?”

“Hey, Sarge! Yes, he is so important, all the way from Washington where the president lives. I’ve told everyone all about your stories about the old lady and those nasty murders!”

She took our orders and scooted away, rushing into the kitchen, yelling out to the owner, “Hey, Sy! He’s back, the reporter! Go look! Maybe he will put us in the Washington news. Hey, Sy, look!”

“What did you tell that nitwit?” the sergeant asked. “What’d you fill her head with?”

“Nothing much.”

Just then, I saw Sy sneak a peek out through the kitchen doors. He looked me over, kind of inspecting me as if I had a contagious disease. Then he slowly made his way over to the table to say hello to Pawler. They shook hands and made some small talk for a minute before he acknowledged me. “And you’re that hotshot reporter everyone’s been blabbing about. You ask a lot of questions.” He narrowed his eyes as if trying to size me up. Sy was a big, imposing kind of man, the kind that sticks out in your mind.

“Only trying to write an award-winning news story,” I said.

“You know what they say, don’t you? Curiosity killed the cat.” He laughed loudly.

“I’ve heard that before. But I’ve never taken to cats. Besides, I’m allergic . . . .”

“Well, best of luck, young man. I’ve got some cooking to do.” Sy returned to the kitchen.

Some people just don’t take to me. Maybe Sy is related to Sergeant Pawler. Sy was a big, imposing kind of man, the kind that sticks out in your mind.

Kristen’s eyes were wide and bright as she brought our food. She smiled her big smile and said, “Do you think you could sign your placemat for me?”

Pawler laughed loudly. “Give me a stinking break!”

“You want my autograph?” I asked, shocked.

“Yes. You’re going to be famous one day.”

Pawler laughed even harder. “Him?”

“Please, pretty please . . . .”

“Fine!” I snapped, trying to end Pawler’s entertainment. I signed the placement to her as follows: “To Kristen, the happiest girl in Hagerstown. Don’t ever change! Louis J. Gerhani.”

She ran into the kitchen like she had found gold, clutching the placemat and yelling, “Sy, look what I have!”

I felt like a fool. Then I felt even dumber as Sergeant Pawler looked at me with a sarcastic grin.

“Hey, Pawler, sit on a tack!”

Kristen had been such a sweetheart, and had stored my containers of pistachio ice cream in the diner’s large freezer. I was only too happy to comply with her silly request for an autograph. She would make someone very happy someday. There is a childlike innocence in that girl, I thought. Just thinking of her brought a smile to my face. You know, innocence beats out over-educated haughtiness in a woman any day. There should be the right mix. That brought Felicia to mind, and I could swear that my heart skipped a beat.

As we entered the nursing home, Jeremy Roberts, the administrator, was waiting for us. He greeted Pawler and me and was thrilled to learn that I had brought three containers of fresh-made ice cream for Lolita and her friends. He gladly asked someone to store them in the kitchen’s freezers for me.

Residents, seated around the room, seemed to stare at people as they arrived. Smiling and waiting for you to smile at them, hoping you would say a kind word to them.

Clearly, some of them were lonely, even though there were so many other residents to mingle with. It was quite sad to study their faces, observing the real sick ones, the lonely ones, and the ones not even sure where they were.

Pawler said, “Hope someone puts a bullet in my head before they dump me in a glue factory like this.”

“I’m sure someone will help you out with that wish one day!” I joked. I understood his thinking, and that scared me too, more than anything. Sometimes the ones with the hardest outer shell are the softest inside, and deep down they have a good heart, though it may go undetected for many years.

“So, Sergeant,” Roberts said, “what brings you to our senior home?” He studied the sergeant.

“Just a precaution; someone has escaped captivity. We should have him back in custody shortly. I’ll be guarding the front entrance, and as soon as Lou here is finished, I’ll be on my way.”

The sergeant stood by the entranceway, observing everyone who came and went. I could tell he was bored out of his bird. But I never asked for his help. Still, it was comforting having a gun nearby for my defense.

I smiled a stupid grin at the sergeant and then followed Jeremy Roberts to the meeting room where Lolita would be waiting for us. It was around one, after her lunchtime and the physical therapy she did each day. Roberts explained that they exercised the leg and arm muscles to ward off atrophy, which could freeze up an older person’s joints and muscles. “Then they kind of waste away,” Roberts explained. “‘Use it or lose it,’ is what we say.”

Miss Lolita was sitting in a comfortable reclining chair and had her eyes closed. There were a few other residents in the recreation room where family members came to gather with their loved ones.

Roberts and I spoke for a few minutes about the kind of care that his home could provide. I didn’t want to disturb Miss Lolita. Along with other elderly residents I saw, she slept in the chair. It’s a wakeup call to someone like me. I couldn’t wait to leave and appreciate the freedom I have. I don’t think I could work in a nursing home. It would be heartbreaking when someone I had come to love passed away, as surely happens regularly. I was acting paranoid and I knew it, but the place really affected me.

I was looking around for Lolita’s family members, but Roberts told me that they would be coming by that evening. We waited a few more minutes, and Roberts gave me a bottle of spring water to drink. Of course, I had to discuss the 1923 murders with him. But he shed no additional information on the investigation, just reinforcing all the previous facts I had come to learn from various sources about past suspects.

In Roberts’s opinion, whoever committed the murders had some connection to the young women—either a jealous boyfriend, a jilted lover, or perhaps a loser of some sort—someone who always struck out with the girls. Some men can’t get a date and have been hurt many times in their efforts to get close to a woman and, thus, according to Roberts, who had some knowledge of psychology, might lash out at women due to their sense of inferiority.

It made perfect sense to me, and I absorbed his theories and filed them away in my mind for later reference.

Some ten minutes later, Lolita awoke. I didn’t rush in to speak with her right away, as I wanted to give her a chance to fully awaken. From a distance, I saw a beautiful Felicia, in her white uniform, go in and attend to Lolita. She adjusted Lolita’s position in her soft chair, fixing a pillow behind her and making sure she was comfortable. Miss Lolita’s hair was combed, and Felicia made sure her makeup and lipstick were touched up.

I realized at that point that I had serious feelings for Felicia. She was the most stunning woman I had ever laid eyes on. And although her gray eyes were a knockout, her smile floored me every time I saw it. She was trim and fit, and her hair was long and dark, and was perfect for her gorgeous face. She was a ten out of ten for me. It is amazing how someone can fall pretty deeply for another person so soon after meeting him or her. I suppose that’s love at first sight, which I had never really believed in—not until I came eye to eye with Felicia that very first time.

My life would not be enjoyable without Felicia being a part of it, though I had no idea how we could or should move forward from this very early and intense infatuation we had for one another. Once I got my assignment finished and the 1923 murder investigation all sewed up, I would talk to Felicia about the possibility of a relationship going forward. I prayed that I would do nothing to risk losing my job or to screw up the Lolita story. After all, it was my only opportunity to keep a very good-paying job. And who wants to date a poor, unemployed, homeless guy, even if he is cute? Yes, I had to add cute to the list. I have to hold on to a shred of self-confidence, after all! Love begins within, or so I tell myself.

Felicia and I made eye contact for two full seconds, then we said our hellos without showing any special interest outwardly. We knew that she could lose her job if she was discovered flirting with or dating anyone connected to the nursing home.

Jeremy Roberts was right on the scene, and I made a special point not to stare at sweet Felicia. But it was killing me. When you are very attracted to a very beautiful woman, it is almost impossible not to look at her.

Roberts whispered in Miss Lolita’s ear, “Lou, the reporter from the Washington newspaper, is here again, and he brought your favorite homemade ice cream!” Miss Lolita’s eyes lit right up when she finally realized I was there.

“Show that young whippersnapper in! Don’t make anyone with pistachio ice cream wait. Time’s a-wasting!” She giggled.

As I got close to her, she said, “Now you know the deal: get real close so that these old eyes can see your baby face in all its glory!”

I got real close and kissed her gently on her cheek.

“Look, how sweet is that?” Felicia said.

“Careful, young man, there must be three hundred old women here who will fight me for you. I may have to beat them off of you!” Lolita laughed with a roar. “Did you go out of your way to that farm and get fresh-made ice cream for little old me?”

“Oh, no!” I bluffed. “You wanted pistachio, too? Some woman who’s only ninety-nine took it from me . . . .”

“Listen, Sonny, I still can put you over my knee for a spanking! Don’t let the white hair and lack of some fool you!” She laughed.

We all laughed with her, including some other residents in the lounge area who were enjoying our banter.

I pulled up a chair and sat almost up to her face. With my notepad at the ready, we talked more seriously to each other.

“Miss Lolita, I read the many great quotes in your wonderfully insightful diary. I was amazed at a woman so young, in her early twenties, being so philosophical.”

She smiled at me and said, “Come a little closer. I want to see your eyes better. You’re a handsome lad!”

I felt a little self-conscious about having Lolita study my eyes, but I moved my chair close enough that I could have kissed her. Felicia smiled a loving smile. I could tell that Felicia was a sensitive and loving person as soon as I met her. People can fake that sensitive caring stuff only so long. A person can see through you and find the real person rather quickly. Body language and a person’s eyes can give away a person’s attitude quickly. Perhaps that was why Lolita wanted to see my eyes up close.

“You know, Louis,” Miss Lolita began, “my Uncle Walter was a doctor, and he was also a very positive, philosophical man who influenced my early days a great deal.”

“Yes, I gathered that from your journal entries,” I said.

“We used to read the Bible together, and then he, along with Minister Trylan of our church, along with the minister’s son, Seymour, would discuss the meaning of the words and the real messages behind the verses of the Bible. It was like the minister wanted his son to learn while we were learning. The minister’s son was a bookworm, and he could recite large sections of the Bible from memory. We learned so much with Minister Trylan. So, I had great influences early on and kept it going for life.”

“Amazing. There were so many motivating sections in your diary. What really caught my eye, Miss Lolita, was the part about being the greatest living miracle. Can you elaborate on that for me?”

“Oh, yes. You see, we are each born as the greatest living miracle in the world. Most of us don’t realize this or appreciate how much of a miracle we really are. I have been explaining this to everyone for my entire adult life. The odds of your being born with your exact personality are millions to one. And if you analyze the human heart, lungs, and brain, they contain over sixty thousand miles of blood vessels. The greatest living miracle in the world? Yes. You see, whether you are a millionaire or a homeless, penniless person, you are equally the greatest living miracle in the world. And you should never forget that!” She smiled lovingly.

“Miss Lolita, I have taken that for granted my entire life. I’ve been down and out, and sometimes at the top of my game, but I’ve never realized that we are each the greatest living miracle in the world. We are each as amazing, in reality, as each of the Seven Wonders of the World. In fact, the headline for my story about you will be ‘The Greatest Living Miracle in the World.’ And, Miss Lolita, can you touch on your self-suggestion statements?”

“I’d love to share an affirmation, or self-suggestion statement, with you. You must keep in mind that I have been saying the same statements for most of my life.”

She began, “Thank you, Lord, for this new and glorious day. As I look out my window, I see a beautiful blue sky with gorgeous white clouds slowly passing by. I thank you for this new and glorious gift of a new day of life. But I don’t realize why I have been chosen to receive this gift of life while so many others have been taken away. I will not waste this day. I will squeeze from the grapes you have given me, Lord, every drop of juice, not wasting one drop, as this could very possibly be my last day on earth. And if it is my last day on earth, it will be my finest day. I thank you, Lord, for all of the precious gifts you have given me throughout my life, but most of all I thank you for this extra precious gift of a new day of life.” She smiled at me and said, “There is more, but I gave you the meat of it.”

“You call them self-suggestion statements. You really are the Wise One, as people call you!”

“I am as equal in value as anyone else is,” she said lovingly. “The reason they are self-suggestions is because as you repeat the statements to yourself, your inner mind accepts them and retains them in your brain for later retrieval. You see, it’s easy for us to dwell on negative thoughts, as eighty percent of all things around us daily are negative in nature. So, to combat the negativity, I call it adding mental blinders to protect my mind from negativity. The positive statements create the mental blinders, and the negativity bounces off.”

“You know, Miss Lolita, what you say makes perfect sense. But you have a special way of explaining things in easy-to-understand language.”

“Miss Lolita, tell him the other morning statement you taught everyone,” Felicia chimed in.

“Okay, sweetheart. Here is another positive statement I repeat a couple of times per day: ‘I feel healthy, I feel happy, I feel terrific. I like myself. I like myself, I like myself. I will be successful; it’s inevitable, because my aggressiveness will lead to opportunities for my success. I can, I will, I want to. All things are possible through belief in myself and the Lord, and with His help, I can accomplish anything.

‘I feel great, I feel wonderful, I’ve got the world by the tail. If I start acting enthusiastic, I’ll become enthusiastic; if I start acting positive, I will become positive; and if I start acting happy, I will become happy. It is amazing, but when I act enthusiastic, others around me become enthusiastic. When I act positive, others around me become positive. And when I act happy, others around me become happy. Life is rewarding, and we all have choices in life; we can choose to act positive or negative. I choose to act positive. We can act happy or we can act sad; I choose to act happy. Why would anyone in their right mind want to act sad? The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not fear. After all, I was born into this life as God’s greatest living miracle in the world. I owe it to Him, my family, and myself to be all I can be. Thank you, Lord. Amen.’

As Miss Lolita finished her daily positive statement, all I could do was look at her eyes and stare for a few seconds. Then I looked at Felicia, who had been mouthing the words along with Lolita. I realized just how powerful those words were. She had a smile on her face, and it all made perfect sense to me. There was silence in our area. I looked around the room at the elderly residents who were either sleeping in their wheelchairs or sitting and staring at nothing, self-absorbed in their own world.

This was truly an amazing 110-year-old woman who fully understood life. Miss Lolita understood what life really meant, while most of us are baffled by life’s purpose. Miss Lolita knew that to waste a life would be an insult to our Creator. Now it made perfect sense to me. God always has a master plan. Why else would Miss Lolita have entered the record books for longevity in Maryland and many other states? She had no doubt helped thousands of people with her philosophy of life and her motivation in general.

My story about Lolita was taking form. It would portray an extraordinary woman who changes people’s lives. But it would also portray a woman who lived through the three murders of 1923. I believed that event alone had changed Lolita’s life, as 1923 was when she had first realized that every life was the greatest living miracle in the world.

Then Miss Lolita shared something else that she had learned early in her life while reading the Bible with her uncle and her minister. It was the Parable of the Talents from Matthew 25.

Lolita quoted the parable to Felicia and me by heart: “It is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his servants and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, ‘Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.’ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.’ Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.’ But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy slave! You knew that I reaped where I did not sow and gathered where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return, I would have received what was my own with interest. So I will take the talent from you, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”

Miss Lolita explained that a talent was a unit of money, but the parable works well nowadays to teach us that our gifts and talents must never be wasted and hidden away, but maximized. And she said she believed that in the hereafter, we will be given a chance to review our lives in minute detail, second by second, over and over. We will be pleased with a life that was well spent and productive, or we will regret a life that was wasted and not maximized, and we will ponder the results for eternity.

While Miss Lolita spoke, I didn’t interrupt. Rather, I jotted notes and added material for my future news story. Actually, I had enough to run at least ten stories, but I knew I’d have to edit it down to one thorough and insightful story. The Hagerstown murders would surely be included in Miss Lolita’s story. They had to be. They were as much a part of who she grew up to be as was her uncle’s influence.

Like a nagging splinter that keeps a finger throbbing in pain, the 1923 murders kept haunting me. I was sure someone in the hereafter was communicating something important to me through my dreams. Someone was pushing me onward to uncover the long-forgotten murderers. The questions I had about the murders kept banging around in my head, clamoring to be presented to anyone who would listen. I was sure it was one of the three girls haunting me, but I also thought it could be Lolita’s Uncle Walter, the doctor. Someone was trying to give me clues. Every so often, the cross, the brick, and the lion ring would pop into my mind: the cross in front of the set of chipped red bricks, and the lion ring on a person’s finger. But it would end abruptly with no further clues. I knew from reading Lolita’s diary that she had had similar visions. How was I going to broach the subject she had once told me was off limits? The last thing I wanted to do was get a 110-year-old woman upset. She’d probably take a swing at me! I couldn’t risk raising her blood pressure.

Just then, Sergeant Pawler entered the room. He looked around at first, studying each person in the room carefully. Then he walked real close to Miss Lolita and said, “Ma’am, how are you doing on this fine day?” He was as sweet as an altar boy, and his eyes were friendlier than ever.

“Oh, hi, Sergeant. I’m just grand! I’ve got my angel Felicia here with me. She’s a doll. And for laughs, I have Louis here, who is in training for how to handle life and all its beauty.”

As Lolita said “beauty,” she turned and winked at Felicia, who smiled a shy grin.

She was indeed a wise old woman. She knew my heart had been broken before, and that life for me had been very empty. Miss Lolita could sense so much from my eyes, my posture, and the inflections of the words I spoke. She knew I needed an angel, someone who could give me a reason to exist. She knew I needed a pep talk about life, our purpose on earth, and, most of all, how we each are born as the greatest living miracle in the world. I needed that lesson more than anything else.

Felicia smiled at me, and once again, my heart skipped a beat. I wanted her so badly—not in any kind of sexual way, at least not at this time, but just to hold her close. I wanted to gaze into her eyes and enter another world. I wanted to escape, for even a short time, and tell her how much I cared for her. I needed her to tell me how much she cared for me. A man, as well as a woman, needs to know that someone they care for needs them very much.

That question kept coming back to me: where do we go from here? I would move heaven and earth to be with Felicia. I knew I had to tell her how I felt. I quickly returned Felicia’s smile and held it for a full two seconds. I felt like a kid in love for the first time. Her eyes sparkled and smiled back at me. Just then, Pawler stared at my stupid-looking smile. His eyes narrowed as he sized me up. I glanced down at my shoes.

Sergeant Pawler looked back at Miss Lolita and smiled. “You are the rare treasure of Hagerstown, Miss Lolita. Don’t let this clown here annoy you. I will be right down the hall. If he bothers you at all, just send for me and I will pistol whip him into the ground!” He giggled like a child.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, Officer. I’ll just spray mace into his eyes. I always keep it handy!” She laughed.

“Oh, thanks, Miss Lolita!” I laughed. I always seem to get people pissed. “Just don’t give the mace to my boss; he’ll spray me blind for sure!”

“You?” she asked. “You look like a little angel.”

“Don’t let my pretty face fool you.”

“With that load of crap, I’m out of here,” said Pawler. “I’ll be at the entrance. Good day, ladies.” He smiled, still studying Felicia as he moved away. He knew she was beautiful. And he also realized I was crazy about her. What he couldn’t figure out was what the hell she saw in me, and it clearly irked him. It was all over his face.

As he walked out of the room, he kept looking back and forth between Felicia and me and shaking his head.

“Again, I’ll be at the front entrance if you need me, Lou.”

“Okay, Sarge,” I said.

“So, Louis, do you have enough background for your news story?” Lolita asked.

“Miss Lolita, I am getting there. But I must say, I have never met anyone as interesting as you.”

“Listen, Sonny, I am just trying to be myself, and help people along the way. We all are great and special. No one is ever better than anyone else; they are just different. Anything else in the diary you want to talk about?”

“Well, there are a few things, but one thing comes to mind: the various visions you have had.”

“Oh, my, I have had so many visions. You see, when I was a young girl, I had very intense dreams. At least, I thought they were dreams, until Uncle Walter taught me how to distinguish the difference between a dream and an actual vision. You see, dreams stem from the subconscious mind; they are played out while you’re asleep. A vision is something more real.”

“You mention early on in the diary seeing a beautiful woman in a white gown.”

“Yes. When I was around fifteen, I had a few visions of a beautiful woman I later learned was the Virgin Mary.”

“That’s wild!” I exclaimed.

“Well, at the time, I didn’t realize how very special it was, but years later it sank in.”

“What was it like—the vision?”

“Oh, my—she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was enveloped in the brightest light ever. She kept telling me that I would have a long life on earth. And she told me that I would change a great many lives of the people I met along the way. And this was my purpose in life: to touch, change, and help as many people as I could.”

“Amazing! Did she say anything about heaven?”

“The Virgin Mary actually showed me heaven through one of my visions. And, oh, my, I had never seen anything so pristine, so bright, so perfect in my entire life. It was only for a few seconds, but it was the most exhilarating and intense feeling ever. When I asked her if I would be going to heaven, the Virgin Mary explained that not everyone goes to heaven immediately. Many go into somewhat of a waiting area for what is sometimes a long period of time, and they graduate to heaven only through prayers said for them by people on earth.

“When I asked if I would go to heaven, the Virgin Mary said that I would, but only after many years of good deeds on earth. She said that I had to earn my way to heaven, and that I must pray for all non-believers and sinners, and for all the clergy of the world, because they, too, sin like us.”

“Do you still get visions?” I asked, my mouth hanging open a bit in anticipation.

“No, not of the Virgin. Those visions started and stopped in the same year. But every few years I receive strong messages that I feel are from her, and I do receive very strong visions of other things. My uncle taught me how to calm my body to open myself to receiving visions.”

“You must feel very special.”

“Listen, Sonny, I will tell you that I am truly blessed. To have a life as great as mine, I can only be blessed. Every second is a blessing, and we must thank God through prayer and fasting for all that we have been given.”

“Miss Lolita, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you scared of dying?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was almost sorry I had asked such a stupid question to a woman who was 110 years old.

Felicia looked at me with a puzzled look on her face, as if to say, “Not a good question.”

Without hesitation, Miss Lolita smiled a big wide smile, looked up, and said, “Am I scared of dying? No! You see, Sonny, heaven is the ultimate reward for a life well lived. When a person believes very strongly in God, they know that passing on means graduating to a higher level. Though the body no longer exists, the spirit goes on for eternity in a place where all their loved ones have been lovingly waiting to reunite with them. It is the ultimate reward that the universe can offer. So, no, I will live my life until my number is called. And when it is, I will be ecstatic that my task on earth has been sufficiently completed. I will finally get to graduate!” She smiled a big smile.

I was speechless as I looked at this woman whose face showed the character of a life well lived, well used, well earned. I looked at Felicia, whose face showed the tracks of two sets of tears. As I observed them both, I felt my eyes tear up, too, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t try to hide my tears.

I felt honored to know Miss Lolita, the Wise One. For the first time in many months, I felt truly blessed to be alive. Hagerstown had been a wake-up call for me in so many ways. Maybe having a target on my back added to my appreciation of life and the future.

Felicia also was a blessing, like an angel from heaven, an unexpected surprise. I had been at the end of my rope in so many respects, and then she magically appeared right before my eyes. And it was the eyes that met mine that did the trick.

My real concern, though, was not fear for my life, but fear for the lives of the innocent people around me. There was Sergeant Pawler, who was only following the captain’s orders to protect me. He had his life on the line protecting my ass. There was Felicia, the angel from above, sent to save me from myself, but I knew that I couldn’t risk anyone else knowing about our interest in one another—not until Billy Blaine and anyone else involved were apprehended. The target on my back must not include others, especially not Felicia. I could never live with myself if something dangerous happened to her. After all, I had seen a couple of suspicious-looking cars following me. But when in fear, everything can look suspicious.

And Miss Lolita—there was no way I would allow any harm to come to her, certainly not because of anything that someone was blaming me for. I would rather quit my job at the newspaper and throw all my notes in the garbage than continue putting her at risk.

My cell phone had been vibrating repeatedly over the last few minutes, showing me three people trying to reach me. I made up my mind not to answer for anyone, not until I finished my Miss Lolita interview. I also wanted to pursue the Hagerstown murders angle of the story, because I knew that if I returned my boss’s calls from the Gazette, he very likely would shut my assignment down. In fact, I was sure that he had had his fill of me and my antics in Hagerstown already.

My buddies Fred and Graham wanted constant updates, but I realized that I needed to cut them off for the time being because if they knew of all the violence that had transpired thus far, they might be spooked and contact the Hagerstown authorities or Glavin. I was already walking on very thin ice. I once again pictured myself flipping hamburgers at Wendy’s, and flipping them on the floor. But then again I don’t think I’d fare well in that job either. I don’t take orders very well, or so I’ve been told.

“Hello there, Mary. Good to see you, too!”

“Thanks so much for bringing in Miss Lolita’s all-time favorite homemade ice cream!” Mary said to me with a smile. “Miss Lolita, would you like some now?” she asked.

“Thank you so much, Mary,” Miss Lolita said. “But wait about twenty minutes. We should be finishing up soon. I think I’ve reviewed all a hundred and ten years of my life. At least that’s what it feels like!” She laughed a hearty laugh. “This young whippersnapper must be writing a novel instead of a news story! Mr. Lou, you trying to write another War and Peace?” Miss Lolita laughed.

“No, actually, you have enough of a past that I could do a movie documentary,” I said brightly.

“Oh, my!” she responded.

“Okay, Miss Lolita, I’ll be back in a short while. Don’t you go anywhere on me!” Mary joked.

“Yeah, sure, like I’m going hang-gliding or something. Get a load of her, will you, Lou?”

“You probably have more energy than I do, Miss Lolita.”

“Well, you’re lucky I like you so much. I’m counting on you writing an award winning story there, Sonny.”

“Don’t you worry; it will be a gem. Just gotta make it back safely!” I looked into Felicia’s magnificent gray eyes.

“Mr. Louis, I keep reminding you to come close. Are you scared I have some disease? Now come closer so I can see the whites of those eyes.”

“You going to hypnotize me again, Miss Lolita? You know, I may fall madly in love with you if I get too close.”

“Fat chance, Sonny! You’d have to get in line behind all those old perverts that are staying at this home. It don’t matter how old a man gets, he’s still a horn dog ’til the day he drops. They’re all after me here!” She laughed hysterically.

“They are!” Felicia chimed in.

“They’re all horn dogs?” I asked.

“That too!” Felicia smiled.

“Bunch of perverts if you ask me!” Miss Lolita said again.

We spoke about Lolita’s childhood again, her mom and pop, the farm, the good times, and the early years of her marriage to D. K., who was a mechanic. We spoke about the town back then, the theater she frequented, and the movie stars of the day that she had idolized. We spoke about the very first cars she remembered, which needed to be crank-started and frequently broke down, stranding carloads of people. But she loved those peaceful days when you sipped fresh lemonade and sat on the family swing in the yard and listened to nature and the songbirds; days when women would bake fresh pies and cakes and make large meals for men who worked hard—men who could actually eat a side of beef for dinner.

She remembered days gone by when the girls would dance all evening long, innocently, and boys would not get fresh for fear of the likes of the girls’ fathers. As Miss Lolita stated, “Everyone had shotguns in those days, and not many people acted up.”

“That would make me behave!” I chimed in, and glanced at Felicia in time to see her blush.

“Yes,” Lolita said wistfully, her thoughts many years in the past. “Those were the golden days when the family, friends, and aunts and uncles would gather ’round the piano for hours just to sing the songs they loved.” she reminisced, with a faraway look on her face.

“Why, there were many a night that we went to bed with a couple of hearth-warmed bricks, just to keep us warm ’til we fell off to sleep. Then there were nasty, cold nights, some of them. And the summers we had to sometimes soak our sheets in water and wring them out and sleep on them damp, all just to keep somewhat cool in the boiling heat. No such contraption as air conditioners in those days, you know? Today’s society is a little too spoiled for my liking. But I’m an old lady with too much to say . . . .”

“No, you’re not!” I argued. “You are a real treasure. You are a valuable doorway to a past we all want so much to live in, but can’t. Through your eyes, we are able to experience, to see, to taste, and to yearn for the times you were so fortunate to have lived through. So don’t ever apologize for reminiscing about better days.”

After a slight pause, I changed the subject. “Miss Lolita, now I have to ask you a tough question: What would you like the world to remember you for? And give me a powerful quote I can use, please.”

“Okay, Sonny. Words to live by: God gave you a gift of eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds today. Have you used one to say thank you?”

“Awesome!” I said. “That’s a keeper!” I wrote the quote down on my crammed notepad. “And how would you like the world to remember you?”

“Someone over a hundred years ago asked Andrew Carnegie, the steel empire multimillionaire, how it was possible that so many of his employees became millionaires—forty-three, in fact—while working for him. A reporter wanted to know what Andrew Carnegie’s secret was. Carnegie answered this way: ‘You develop millionaires the way you mine gold. You expect to move tons of dirt to find an ounce of gold. But when you go digging, you don’t go looking for the dirt; you go looking for the gold.’ So, Sonny, you can write this down: My whole life, I always went looking for the gold in every person, never the dirt, and everyone—I don’t care who they are—has some gold in them, though it may take patience and moving mountains of dirt to find it. You see, too many people pre-judge one another, jump to conclusions too quickly, and they give up on someone too soon.”

I was writing like a madman as fast as Miss Lolita was speaking. I’m the only one who can read my chicken scratch in the first place, and sometimes I need a few drinks just to figure it out. Well, also an Italian woman at the newspaper, Nancy—but only the two of us can read my handwriting. As fast as I was scribbling Miss Lolita’s words, this would be even harder than usual to decipher.

There was silence for a few seconds after I finished writing. I looked at Felicia who had an “I told you she was awesome!” look on her face. Miss Lolita just stared into my eyes, saying nothing. I studied her in return, because I knew I would never come across another person so deep, so insightful, and so worldly as Lolita, ever again. This was my once-in-a-lifetime moment with her, and I tried to etch it deep into my brain. I wanted to remember Miss Lolita, her messages of inspiration, and her awesome attitude forever.

Here was a woman unafraid to pass from this world and, as she had said, “graduate” to that better place, but only after she had more than earned her place in the hereafter. No one had ever explained it like that to me before. Life is not a right, but a blessing we should be thankful for. We should not squander our moments on earth. And, yes, we must earn our right to “graduate” to that better place above, where we just might have an eternity to review and relive every second of our lives over and over again. That was a scary thought if a life was selfishly misused.

Felicia looked at me with sadness in her eyes. I wondered if it was because she realized that Miss Lolita was ready to go to her Maker at any moment, and Felicia would lose her. Maybe Felicia had just recognized her own mortality, which can be an earthshaking experience. We are all young in our hearts. But here we were, staring at a very weathered person, reminding us that we, too, would become weathered and old-looking—nothing like we are in our prime.

The silence was deafening as I heard the humming of the overhead fluorescents, which sounded as loud as a Mack truck at that moment. My mind was working in overdrive, ruminating on the philosophy of an expert with 110 years to her credit.