Tea with the Morning News

Roberta sat at her desk, fighting the tears, and losing. The phone was still in her hand and the dial tone hummed across the Front Office. Her assistant Denise and the mail boy Jojo noticed. They gave each other a look—the look that said, What do we do now?—but they didn’t move. The news was bad, they could tell that from the other side of the office, but bad how or bad who, they didn’t know. They weren’t altogether certain they wanted to know.

But bad news will out, and when she could stand the dial tone hum no longer, Denise crossed the office and gently lifted the phone from Roberta’s hand and hung it up. The silence seemed to startle Roberta into awareness of where she was and what she’d just learned.

“You know,” she said to Denise, “I spoke to him just yesterday, about those irritating memos. He swears he didn’t send them. And now …”

Denise waited. Jojo waited on the other side of the office. But Roberta seemed lost. 

“Who was that?” Denise asked as quietly as she could manage. “On the phone.”

“The phone?” Roberta echoed. “Oh. Yes. That.”

Denise and Jojo waited.

“That was …” Roberta started but seemed unable to finish.

“Yes?” Denise coaxed.

“He’s dead. Died overnight. But I just …”

Denise didn’t want to ask the obvious question, but she wasn’t sure who had just died. Not one of the ball players, she assumed, or they’d have heard about it in person, from someone from the team who’d make the announcement for everyone in the organization. Not by telephone, no. So who could it be?

“You spoke with him last night?” she asked Roberta, hoping for more information.

Roberta just nodded. 

“And they found the body this morning?” Jojo suddenly asked.

Denise gave him a look as if to say, That was rude, but Roberta was answering, oblivious to the lack of tact from her young mail room attendant. “Yes, this morning, when they checked on him, I guess.”

“Checked on—” Denise started to say, then realized who it was. “Taffy … died?” Denise asked, just to be certain.

Roberta nodded and grabbed a tissue to wipe the tears that were beginning to collect in her eyes. “That’s what they said.”

“Oh,” Denise said.

“That’s why they found the body this morning, right?” Jojo added, wanting to join the conversation but not sure how. “Because they check on him each day?”

He was right. Only one member of the Yuma Arroyos organization had someone “checking on them” each and every morning: Taffy Slummings, owner of the Arroyos, and under house arrest for the suspected murder of David Goode, former player and manager for Yuma. Each morning the county sheriff sent someone to confirm that Slummings was still at home in his apartment in downtown Yuma.

“What—” Jojo started to ask but caught Denise’s look just in time.

So they waited.

For Roberta to recover sufficiently from the shock to begin answering the obvious questions and, more importantly, begin asking the ones that needed to be asked.

It took Roberta another minute of silence, her head slumped, her hands steadying her on the desk. But finally, she lifted her head and noticed Denise standing next to her.

“Tea?” she asked in a very small voice.

Denise wasn’t going to move, not now, not with Roberta still in shock, so she waved her hand at Jojo, who understand her signal and headed for the tea kettle. Denise put her hand on Roberta’s shoulder.

“What’d they say?” she asked.

“Who?” Roberta said, then realized who and, shaking her head at her own thick headedness, added, “only that the pathologist said it looked like a heart attack but the coroner would have to confirm that.”

“Right,” Denise said. She wanted to add something comforting, like “At least it was quick,” but she didn’t know that and just thinking that made her realize Slummings had been alone all night, every night since his house arrest, so it might not have been quick. The thought made her shudder.

“What’re we gonna do?” Roberta asked in a plaintive voice. “I mean … who owns the club now?”

“Did he have a will?”

“A will … I guess … I mean, he must have, but … I don’t know.”

“Any children?”

Roberta shook her head, “None he ever spoke of. At least not to me.”

The unanswered questions hung in the air until Jojo announced, “Tea’s on. What kind you want?”

Denise turned to speak to him, “English breakfast. She likes honey, a couple teaspoons. I take mine black.”

“Got it,” Jojo said and started fixing the tea.

Denise turned back to Roberta. “Maybe we should contact the sheriff, find out if there’s a will or anything.”

Roberta nodded, then looked up at Denise. “Would you do that? For me?”

“Sure.” Roberta squeezed Denise’s hand. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Roberta shook her head, “Not now. Just tea … until we find out more.”