There's no better April Fool's Day prank than the one that happens a day early and involves a police officer at your front door asking if you know the whereabouts of an elderly lady possibly wandering around the neighborhood, and you actually have detailed information to give him.
March 31, 2012, around 3:30 p.m., about an hour after my yard sale, I was sitting inside my house with my friends, Rachel and Cynthia. It was lightly raining outside, and we had just finished counting the yard sale money. I looked out the dining room window to see an elderly lady walking very deliberately down my sidewalk towards my front porch. I thought maybe she left a personal belonging at the yard sale or wondered if we still had a certain item for sale.
I opened my front door before she could knock. She looked me straight in the eyes, and pointedly asked, "How much would you charge to drive me to Kensington Spa?"
I'm looking at this old lady with her pasty white makeup, sunken eyes, and hot red lipstick, and I'm thinking to myself, "Wow, she's kinda creepy looking. She looks like a corpse."
"Well, where is the spa?" I asked.
She matter-of-factly replied, "It's on Howard and Swann."
"Well, okay then."
I walked back inside, closing the front door behind me, looked at Cynthia and said, "Do you want to ride with me to take her to the spa?"
Cynthia said, "Yeah, sure."
She grabbed her things, and I went to get my purse. In the meantime, I'm loudly whispering to Rachel the conversation that just transpired on the porch. I asked if she wanted to ride with us.
She said, "How about I stay here at the house and call the cops if you don't return? What's your license plate number on your car?"
Still whispering, I said, "What if Granny is going to the spa to rob the spa or something? Then I'll be an accomplice for driving her there!" I fished out my insurance card and gave it to Rachel. I said, "Here, I have another one in the car."
"But what's your license plate number?" asked Rachel.
"I don't know!" I whisper-shouted.
Cynthia said, "Go look out the back door. Bekah's car is out back right now."
As Cynthia and I hurried to the front door, "I expect texts every five minutes," Rachel said.
Cynthia and I walked out the front door where we find Granny still patiently waiting. She asked, "Would you take a telegram from me that you can cash at Amscott?"
I stared at her in confusion and said, "Umm, no, that would be too much. Don't worry about it."
"A telegram???" I mused, "Granny is still in 1930. Bless her heart."
So we walked to my car, and Cynthia opened the front passenger door for Granny to get in. As Granny is getting in, Cynthia gets in the back seat directly behind Granny. As we drive away, Granny tells me again that Kensington Spa is on Howard and Swann.
At this point, I'm wondering why Granny needs me to drive her to the spa, but if Granny is a crazed serial killer, I need to treat her with extra kindness so maybe she'll have mercy on me.
In my politest southern voice, I asked, "What's your name?"
"Lucille."
"Well, I'm Bekah, and that's Cynthia," I said pointing to the backseat. "Do you live around here?"
"Yes."
"What street do you live on?" I further inquired.
"Kentucky."
"What's with all the one-word answers," I thought. At this point, I'm trying to gather information from her in case Granny really is a serial killer in disguise. This way, if Cynthia or I survive, at least one of us will be able to tell the cops something about this crazy lady.
Lucille asked me if I was familiar with the area. I told her I was.
I fished my phone out of my purse and quickly texted Rachel, "Good so far."
Rachel texted back, "I just looked up Kensington Spa. It's a real place."
I still couldn't get the thought out of my mind of why Lucille was acting so weird and needed me, a neighbor she's never met, to give her a ride to the spa.
I asked Lucille if she had any children. She was delighted to tell me she had four children and eight grandchildren. I could tell she really enjoyed talking about them, and that she was very proud of them. My mind eased up a little on the serial killer thoughts. As she was rambling on about her kids, I pondered, "Maybe one of her kids or grandkids forgot to take her to the spa, and she wasn't going to let anything stop her from getting to her spa appointment. She's probably a little senile, or maybe she has dementia, and her kids just aren't ready to put her in a home yet."
Sure enough, there really was a Kensington Spa on Howard and Swann. I parked on the street right in front of the building, feeling a little relieved that it actually existed.
Lucille was very excited. She saw the sign, clapped her hands, and said, "Oh, there it is. Then she looked at me and said, "You have no idea the service you have performed for me today. You must have a gratuity. Would you wait a minute while I go inside and get some money?"
"Sure," I said. I thought, "What the heck, be a good receiver, and take five bucks from Granny and get the heck outta here!"
Lucille walked up to the spa door and it was locked. Within seconds, someone opened it, and she disappeared inside.
I turned to Cynthia and said, "I ain't waitin' here very long."
She agreed and said, "Let's go now."
While I was waiting, I texted Rachel, "We just dropped her off. She is inside getting me some money... for my trouble. Lol!"
Rachel texted, "This is so bizarre. Keep a good look out! Make sure no one fishy is hanging around."
I texted, "She said, 'you have no idea what a favor you have done me & you must have a gratuity.' If she ain't out in five minutes, I'm leaving."
"It's sooooo odd!!!!" Rachel texted.
I gave Lucille another two minutes before I drove off. We pulled over so Cynthia could get in the front seat.
Cynthia said to me, "I sat right behind her so I could be ready to choke her out if she tried to pull anything!"
I texted Rachel again, "Weeeeeeird. We are coming home now. She never came out."
"Ok. I'll stop worrying now," Rachel texted.
I texted, "Phew!! She was nice enough. Just looked a bit like a corpse."
Rachel texted, "Guess that's why she needed the spa."
As soon as we got home, we all three breathed a sigh of relief that none of our scariest nightmares had come true. Rachel said, "While you were gone, I thought we should have just called a cab for her."
I agreed. "Good idea. What if she starts making a habit out of this? If she comes over to my house to ask me for a ride again, I'll just nicely offer to call a cab for her."
Rachel left to go home. Cynthia and I got cleaned up after our long day of running a yard sale, put on our pajamas and watched television for a couple of hours. Around 5:30, I see a Tampa Police officer walkin' up my sidewalk.
"Ohhh crap!" I yelled! I jumped off the couch, not considering for one second I was still in my pajamas, and rushed to the front door. I knew exactly what was about to happen. The police officer was going to tell me Lucille robbed the spa!
"Hello, ma'am. Have you seen an elderly lady in the neighborhood?" asked the policeman.
"Yes. I drove her to the Kensington Spa on Howard and Swann."
The officer repeated that into his radio.
The dispatcher squawked back, "Okay. We are making contact with the spa."
My voice started shaking and I anxiously asked, "Does she have Alzheimer's?"
"She has dementia, and she lives with her son next door," the officer replied.
"Ohhh nooo! I'm so sorry," I said with big tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't know. It was so weird. She just came over here and asked how much I would charge her to give her a ride to the Kensington Spa, and I told her I wouldn't charge her anything."
"It's okay, ma'am," the officer reassured me. I continued to babble through my tears, "My grandma had dementia, and I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
He continued to converse back and forth with the dispatcher over the radio. He asked me what she was wearing. I described her tan pants. And in a panic, I couldn't remember what color shirt she had on. I opened the front door to ask Cynthia if she remembers. She was putting the dogs in the kitchen. We both agreed she had on a black sweater and a white shirt underneath it.
I heard the dispatcher say over the radio, "We made contact with the spa owner. The owner said she just left two minutes ago and was wearing tan pants -- correction -- cream-colored pants, a white shirt, and black sweater."
I was elated that our descriptions matched and that she had only left the spa two minutes prior.
The dispatcher added, "The owner said she was waiting for her son to come pick her up."
I muttered, "Her son doesn't know she's there."
The policeman stepped off the porch and walked toward the neighbor's house. By now, two other officers had arrived. The scene was intimidating.
The neighbor walked over and shook my hand. "I'm sorry. My name is Brian. As you know now, that's my mother."
I was still crying. I said, "I'm Bekah. I'm so sorry." I apologized for my tears and told him I understood, and that my grandmother had dementia.
He said, "She was just gone so quick. I've been looking all over the neighborhood for her, and just couldn't figure out how she could get away so fast."
I explained, "Yeah, she just came over here and asked for a ride to the spa. She didn't explain anything."
"She seemed lucid, didn't she?"
I said, "Yes and no. She said a couple of things that seemed off, but she just wanted to get to the spa. So I took her."
He smiled and said, "Well, next time, just tell her 'We should ask Brian first.'"
We both chuckled a bit as he walked away. I shakily sat down on a chair on the porch trying to compose myself.
I overheard one of the officers say, "The spa owner found her." I was so relieved when I heard those words! Cynthia and I walked back in the house. We nervously laughed a little about the whole fiasco, and how we knew something was not right from the beginning.
The police officer came back over to tell me Lucille had been found. He told me that he had to include me in his report since I was the one who drove her to the spa. I gave him my name and date of birth. I thanked him for coming over to give me the good news.
He said he knew I was concerned and wanted me to know she had been found. He explained that Tampa has a program for the elderly, especially the ones with dementia, Alzheimer's, and the wanderers where they put a GPS bracelet on them that can't be removed unless it is cut from their arm.
"Wow. That's really great," I said. "So Granny's gonna get lowjacked, huh?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The officer and I exchanged another round of thank-yous as he walked away.
