Free Getting Old Is Très Dangereux: A Mystery by Rita Lakin

portrait. Register with a gift registry. Select bridesmaids. Pick honeymoon place. Will you need a passport? Are your passports up-to-date? How do you feel about confetti? And don’t you love ice sculptures?”
    Help! Somebody get me out of this!
    By the time I escape from Trix and head off to catch up on my exercises, the girls are off to other activities. Ida is on her way out to her cooking class when she notices Bella and Sophie heading toward the back of their building. They seem fairly dressed up with matching colored walking canes. Ida calls out to them. “Hi. Where are you two going?”
    Bella and Sophie look at one another guiltily.
    Sophie says, “Going to the post office across the street,” and at the same time Bella says, “Just out for a little stroll.” They both stop. Sophie throws Bella a dirty look. “Post office, remember!”
    Bella looks chagrined. “Yeah, I forgot. Post office. Need any stamps?” she asks Ida.
    Ida shakes her head. “If you’re gonna lie, try to keep your stories straight. And never mind, I don’t care where you’re off to.”
    With that, the two of them scamper away, swinging their canes as they go.
    Ida, though, is curious. She follows them, staying well behind. She watches them cross Oakland Park Boulevard, and to her surprise they head for Jerry’s Deli, next to the Fort Lauderdale hospital.
    Strange, she thinks. Why were they so cagey about going out to breakfast? She turns around and heads to her cooking class.
    Meanwhile, Sophie, leading Bella by the hand, enters Jerry’s Deli. Jerry, the owner, stands behind the counter with his son, Larry. She sniffs, thinking how these are two of a kind. They sure do look alike, very heavy, swarthy, with identical small moles with a tiny tuft of hair on their chins. They’re always noshing at something while they cut meat slices and make sandwiches. Their aprons are always unattractively stained with a variety of foods. Jerry recognizes them and nods his head toward the back. Bella sniffs too, only she is kvelling over the wonderful odor of delicatessen. “Maybe we could eat first?” Sophie yanks her arm. “We can’t be late.”
    They make their way through the restaurant past a few customers who don’t look up, totally involved in their food. Sophie agrees that what theyare eating smells delicious. Bella slows up, hoping they’ll stop to eat, but Sophie pulls her along.
    At the far end of the deli there is a large, heavy, russet-colored drape. Sophie pulls it aside; behind it is a door. She looks over her shoulder, sensing someone watching them. She’s right. Father and son are staring at them from behind the counter, beady-eyed, their mouths twisted in a knowing grin.
    The heck with them. Sophie knocks, and she and Bella walk right in, shutting the door behind them.
    The girls enter what Sophie imagines was once a back storeroom. Now it’s been cleared out and the room is painted totally white. A number of women are already seated in a semicircle facing a chalkboard at the rear of the room.
    Mrs. Jerry—the girls have never known her first name—sits near the entrance behind a small table with a notebook and cash box. Sophie thinks that Mrs. Jerry looks just like her husband and son. At her side are white painted shelves full of what to Sophie seems like a peculiar collection of products. Vitamins. Crystals. Beads. Incense. Energy drinks and energy bars. Photos of their leader posed with very famous, mostly showbiz clients. Dried flowers. Lists of ashrams in India with dates of events. CDs of Indian New Age music. Posters. And much more.
    Daunted by the oddness, the girls haven’t bought anything on their previous visits.
    “Here’s my five-dollar entrance fee,” Sophie says eagerly.
    “Mine too,” adds Bella.
    Mrs. Jerry hands them each a small ticket and notes their names and amounts in her spiral notebook. Knowing the rules, the girls open the closet adjoining the shelves and place their purses in alongside