Heidi’s Next Move

Heidi had taken up swimming laps.  What was the point of buying into an over fifty community if one didn’t make use of the facilities.  Was she over fifty?  Did it matter?  She paid cash.  Her patio home was definitely not palatial, but it would do.  She liked the fact that it was one level, no one could push her out the window and suggest suicide.  Poor, poor Oleg.  She missed him.  She missed the excitement.  She missed the money!

But she had enough. For the time being.  And this senior community offered possibilities, re: men.  Men who had money because this place outside of Asheville, nestled in nature, as the brochure would have it, had potential, from her point of view.

When she had fled back to the States, her first stop was her parents, just to visit as she was a dutiful daughter and they were definitely getting older.  She had to see her brothers and their families too because she had to pretend to be a loving and concerned aunt.  That duty done, she told her parents she was going back to Europe.  Why did she lie?  She gave that some thought.  If anyone could trace her, it would most likely be through her parents.  She didn’t want them to know she had once again tossed Milena Wojcik into the garbage pail of life and took up her Heidi identity.

So far, so good.  She was surprised how welcoming a senior community could be.  Never before had an actual Welcome Wagon come to her door with all sorts of information and coupons galore.  How to play this whole gambit was what she had to figure out.  Go for the men or—  play nice with the women.  She didn’t really need a man—yet.  And she was a widow.  Still grieving.  Had to move far away because of memories.  No children, her great sorrow.  But, oh, how she admired everyone else’s children, grandchildren and agreed that they had to be the smartest, most attractive kids alive.

Heidi decided to veer toward making friends with the women.  So many gossip hounds—so many cliques.  What was this?  High school all over again?  There were the cheerleader types, the artistic types, the wallflowers and the outsiders. She thought the artistic types had more promise, like the pottery classes and the watercolors and, oh, yes, the carpentry, “Something I’ve always wanted to try,” she told Jeff, the coordinator.  Married still, but who knew when his wife, who smoked, might kick off.  Did anyone smoke anymore?  At least Jeff made his wife smoke outside.  Heidi appreciated a man with principles.

Jeff helped Heidi hang her very elementary birdhouse.  She wasn’t planning to put seed in it.  Birds had lived since the time of the dinosaurs.  They didn’t need her help.  Jeff then suggested she might want to try making a wooden box for her jewelry.  Carl was the expert there and a divorcee.  Too bad he wore diapers.

So far Heidi hadn’t gotten on the tennis courts—mainly because she couldn’t’t play.  But the pool table was where she could be found many a night, cueing up with the guys.  She had to lose to some of those suckers. The bets were small but they accumulated.

To sum up.  Life was pleasant.  Until she got that call from her mother.  To let her know that Dimitri Markov was in the States and wanted to look her up for old time’s sake.  “I told him you were in Europe, in Marseilles but he said you weren’t.”

“I moved to Avignon.  It’s better for my health,” Heidi lied.  And her health was something she needed to be concerned about, since her erstwhile gang had started looking for her.

“He was very insistent,” her mother said.  “And not very nice.”  She paused.  “Milena, have you been up to something?”

“When have I ever?”

The silence was rather telling.

“Look, Mom.  Don’t worry about Dimitri.  He’ll come back to Europe and find me here.  I dated him for a while, and he didn’t take our breakup very well.  You know how possessive these Russian men can be.  I’m so sorry he bothered you.  If he comes by again, call the cops.”

That’s all Dimitri would have to see, a cop car and he’d be out of there.  She definitely didn’t see him turning up in Asheville.  First, he knew her as Milena Wojcik.  Could Oleg have told him her real name?  Possibly.  But Oleg liked his secrets.  Second, even if Oleg told Dimitri, he knew her as Heidi Franklin.  She had bought the patio home under the name of Heidi Dupont.  Easy to do as she had old identification with that name that just had to be renewed.  She was safe.  And yet, she didn’t like the fact that someone came over here, looking for her.

She wouldn’t let this upset her course of action. Steady as she goes and all that.  She was safe.  She had to believe that.

Five days after her mother’s call, while she was having breakfast on the patio of her home, a tall, gray stranger in a gray suit with a brush cut approached; and she didn’t like the looks of him.  He came right up to the patio boundary but didn’t step on the bricks.  “Miss Dupont?” he questioned.

“Mrs.,” Heidi corrected him.

“Mrs.,” he said agreeably.  “I’m Cody Burns of the FBI.”

Jesus!  Did he have to say it so loudly?  The news of his visit would ricochet around the community in minutes.  Here even the blades of grass had ears.

“Perhaps it would be best if we go inside,” Heidi suggested, yes, through gritted teeth.

She led him by way of the patio door into her kitchen, but didn’t offer him coffee or a chance to sit down.  “Do you have any identification?” she demanded.

Cody Burns showed her his badge.  Unfortunately, it looked real.  Then he said, “I thought maybe, as the widow of Gerard Franklin, you’d like to testify at Will Stanton’s sentencing hearing.  And, oh, I have a few questions about a known Russian criminal that came to the States looking for you—Milena Wojcik.”

Heidi folded her arms over her chest and said as coolly as possible.  “I assume by your snide attitude that you are unaware of my undercover work?”

That set him back.

“When you become aware, perhaps we’ll have something to discuss.  Until then it’s best if you talk to your superiors at several other agencies.”

Well, he was flummoxed and had no idea what to do next except back graciously away.

But his absence still left Heidi was a slew of problems.  First, an FBI agent visiting her patio must be explained.  Fall back on the Will Stanton sentencing hearing?  And then—what the fuck was she going to do now?