Judith only has jet-black eyebrows.
And unlike super-skinny Shona, Judith has bulges and lumps swelling up in places where woman don’t usually have what Ceepak calls “protuberances.” Even her face is sort of bloated. Her cheeks and jowls crowd out her eyes, nose, and mouth so much it’s hard to tell if she and her sister have similar facial features.
Standing next to Judith is a beanpole-ish, balding man sporting a scraggly goatee. He’s wearing shorts, sandals, and a faded pink polo shirt. He also looks a little nebbishy, a Yiddish word that my buddy Joe Getzler taught me (along with schmuck, putz, and bupkes). It basically means he looks “pitifully timid.” I’m guessing he’s David Rosen because the other guy, standing across the bed from Judith, looks totally Hollywood and has to be the rich son, Michael, from LA-LA land.
Michael is wearing black jeans, black cowboy boots, and an open-collar black shirt that looks like it probably cost several hundred dollars at some black clothes boutique in Beverly Hills. His hair and beard are so neatly trimmed they appear to be the exact same length. That takes work. Or money.
“Oh, hello,” says Judith, very sweetly. When she smiles, she looks like one of those puffy marshmallow clouds on a TV weather map. “May we help you gentlemen?”
“Sorry to intrude,” says Ceepak. “I’m Detective John Ceepak with the Sea Haven Police. This is my partner Danny Boyle. Please pardon our intrusion and know that we are sorry for your loss. Dr. Rosen was good man.”
Judith blinks her piggy little eyes. Repeatedly.
“Did you know my father-in-law?” she finally asks.
“Only briefly,” says Ceepak. “But he had a very stellar reputation among the long-term residents of Sea Haven.”
“He certainly did,” says the guy with the close-cropped hair and beard. “I’m Michael. Do you know my big brother David?”
“No,” says Ceepak, stepping forward and extending his hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” He shakes David’s hand and then turns to Michael to shake his, too.
Like always, I follow along and do what Ceepak just did.
“Again,” says Ceepak, “our condolences on your loss.”
“Gosh, detectives,” says Judith, “I don’t mean to be rude but, may I ask: Why are you gentlemen here?”
“My dad was ninety-four years old,” says David with a goofy grin. “Surely you don’t suspect foul play in his death.”
“Of course not,” says Ceepak.
“Of course not,” echoes Judith, with a soft smile. She has a very sweet and gentle presence. Reminds me a little of this movie from the 1960s they used to show us at Holy Innocents Elementary. Debbie Reynolds in The Singing Nun. I half expect her to break into song: “Dominique, nique, nique.”
Then I remember the Rosens are Jewish.
“We’re here,” says Ceepak, “to assist Ms. Lemonopolous.”
“Christine?” says Michael.
“Yes. We understand she needs to vacate the premises.”
“We’d appreciate it,” says David, kind of brusquely. “Her services, as you might imagine, are no longer required now that Dad has passed. Monae has already moved out of her room.”