Lenora's Dilemma
1.
Lenora Hinman was the closest she ever came to being mad, and she had good reason. For the third time in the last six weeks, she had been robbed. The thief had not taken much, mainly because she did not have much to take.
Lenora was a 96-year old widow who stood barely five feet tall and weighed only 89 pounds. About this size in her youth, she was still wiry and strong. Surprisingly, her hair was not yet gray. It was still jet black and very healthy. Her skin was not overly wrinkled and her complexion was good considering her age. Her hearing and eyesight were still good. All in all, Lenora Hinman was a woman that belied her 96 years.
She lived alone in her home on 28th street. It was a large, spacious house, purchased by herself and Bill Hinman, her deceased husband, in 1939. It had been quite lovely when it was new, but now it needed paint and remodeling. Widowed for 45 years, she had been alone almost half of her life. A crusty, but very kind woman, she still attended church every Sunday and hosted the Wednesday afternoon circle meeting in her living room. The group was not as big as in earlier days, as death had claimed most of her friends. Lenora often wondered if old age was a blessing or curse.
She was up early, as usual, this Monday morning. Still able to live alone and take care of herself, her good health and independent nature allowed her to get by very well and not be a burden to her grandson, Bill Hinman III, who was her only blood relative living here and the only one that she was close to. Bill was 47 years old, happily married with three children and very concerned about his aging grandmother.
Finishing her morning chores, she decided to call Bill. She waited until mid morning before doing so, as she hesitated to call him at work. The man worked extremely hard and she hated to bother him.
"Hello Bill," she spoke in a quiet, flat voice. Bill always had trouble hearing her over the phone.
"Well, Hi, Grandma." Bill was always delighted to hear from her, even at work. He wished that they would talk and visit more often, but she wouldn't. She knew how busy he was.
"Got something to tell you."
A little alarmed, Bill answered, "Oh?"
"Got robbed again last night. 20 bucks."
Grandma was getting robbed on a regular basis, it seemed, and this did not please Bill. The third time lately; he knew the police could not do much. Always small amounts of cash and no violence, he suspected the same person was responsible for all of the robberies. He was not as concerned about the money as he was his grandmother, though he knew she could scarcely afford to lose 20 dollars. "You OK?" He asked.
"Oh yes, I'm fine."
"Need any money?"
"I'm fine," she repeated, and Bill knew she was not telling the truth. He marveled at how a woman her age could get by as well as she did and on as little income as she had. She certainly didn't ask for much from him or his wife, Peggy. He wished they were doing more for her, but she steadfastly refused. She always told him they were busy enough and he had to admit she was right, at least to himself. Two kids in college and another in junior high kept him busy and broke.
"Everything OK at the house?"
"Yeah, only a twenty missing off the end table in the living room"
"Maybe you should keep your money in your purse," he gently suggested.
"If he has to look for it, he may get mad," she answered, patiently. He had to admit she was probably right about that. The fact was, he didn't know what to do about this and she didn't, either.
Bill agreed that this guy (he supposed that it was a guy) was sneaking in at night. Except for Sunday school and church, Grandma was not gone much, not even to the grocery. She lived in a neighborhood that was mainly elderly persons and Charles Hadlock, the owner of the grocery, made deliveries. Peggy did her hair once a month, after church, at Grandma's. Grandma locked the house up tight when she was gone on Sunday, but, much to Bill and Peggy's distress, left the doors unlocked and the windows open (in the summer) at night.
"I'm getting very concerned about you living there alone," he said, knowing he was about to lose this argument yet again.
"Won't live in a rest home and won't live with you. Lived here 50 years and no two-bit thief's gonna run me off," she paused to get her breath, "and we've talked about this many times, Bill Hinman, lived here since the days of Rosy and will die here. Anything else?"
Bill chuckled to himself. He really cared for her. What a woman! She wouldn't even let him mow her grass. "Think you've covered it all, Ma'am."
She muffled a low laugh, "OK, then. Least you've got manners. I credit Dorothy for that." Dorothy, his mother, had died of cancer 20 years ago.
"She was a fine woman, like you, Grandma. I'll call you tonight."
"Bye, baby." She called him that on special occasions.
2.
Lenora dined on a can of soup and piece of bread for lunch. She missed the hearty appetite of her youth. Surprisingly, that was one of the few things of her youth that she did miss. Even without Pa, the second half of her life had been, in most ways, better than the first. But, just lately, she felt every day of her 96 years. Well, she thought, time for a little nap. This afternoon I've plans to make.
Bob didn't call that night, but Peggy did. Lenora really liked her, largely because she was a good wife to Bill and a good mother to the kids, but also because she was friendly and easy to get along with. Peggy was a petite woman, like herself, and she complemented her husband nicely. That Bill and Peg always had time for her in the middle of their too busy lives was not lost on Lenora Hinman. She had lived 96 observant years. Not much escaped her scrutiny.
"Mind if I come to the circle meeting Wednesday?" Peg asked, a little too lightly.
"Yeah, come on, but everything's OK. You've nothing better to do than sit with old-timers?" She knew Peggy wanted to see for herself that she and the house were normal and she was touched by Peggy and Bill's concern. Three robberies right under her nose were very frightening. In the old days, this never would have happened.
Peggy laughed. Not a muffled chuckle, but a healthy laugh. "I like your friends and you know it."
"Yeah, I know, but don't tell me we're not a pain in ass sometimes."
Another laugh, "I won't, but I'll see you Wednesday."
"Right. See you then. See that my boy gets some rest." Since Bill the second died shortly after his wife, Dorothy, years ago, Bill the third was now "her boy".
Lenora felt a little guilty at Peggy's insistence on attending her circle meeting. She was a cashier at a bank (she couldn't remember which one, she changed jobs several times) and didn't get paid when she took the afternoon off. She was all too aware the kids could scarcely afford to lose even a little bit off of a paycheck.
Bill the third was a wonderful man but would never set the world on fire as a service representative at the light company, a position he held for the last 13 years and one he liked and felt comfortable with. Peggy had to work to make ends meet and coming to an old lady's circle meeting in the middle of the week had to be an inconvenience. Still, it pleased her that she liked to come and was concerned about her welfare. Lenora looked forward to Wednesday afternoon.
Lenora spent the next few days thinking about the robberies and what to do about them. She was well aware she was mighty lucky not to have been harmed or maybe even killed. She felt her nerves may be getting to her, though, as food hadn't been sitting too well on her stomach recently.
The next three weeks passed uneventfully, until it happened again. This time, she had been alert and heard the front door softly open at exactly 2:53AM, according to the bedside clock. The intruder found thirty dollars; one twenty and a ten-dollar
bill on the living room coffee table. She heard light footsteps; no doubt the thief was looking around the remainder of the living room-dining room area for more booty. Before long, she heard the front door open and shut. Whoever came to visit had been in and out in barely five minutes time.
This time, Lenora did not tell Bill. She decided that she would no longer bother the kids.
Two weeks later, there was another robbery, this time at 3:51AM. Again, the unwanted guest was in and out in five minutes, this time with a twenty and five dollar bill. No doubt the thief was aware of their tacit arrangement. He could have twenty to thirty easy dollars every two to three weeks in return for not harming her. He felt it a good deal for both of them.
But Lenora knew this could not go on forever. Her stomach was really bothering her and she made a rare trip to her doctor of 35 five years, Dr. Hamilton. She traveled by cab, so as not to alarm Bill and Peg.
Approximately 12 weeks passed since the first of the robberies that now counted five in number. Approaching birthday number 97, she wished to be around to celebrate it with the kids. She hoped the early morning robber would not mess that up, but that was up to him.
She had been feeling a bit better lately. Keeping busy seemed to be the best medicine for her. Though her appetite was gone, she did not feel quite as queasy as before, and this pleased her very much. Feeling good helped her to stay alert.
She knew that soon, all of this would be over.
Six more weeks went by. Bill and Peg had about forgotten about Grandma's persistent thief. At least, they hoped that, after six weeks, he had moved on to other pastures.
Grandma Lenora had not forgotten, but she did get to spend birthday 97 with Bill and his family. Phil, her oldest great-grandson, even managed to be home from school for her party, and this delighted her tremendously. "Happy birthday, Grandma," Phil told her, hugging her gently, "May you have many more!"
"Hope so, sweetie, but we'll see. I'm already on borrowed time," she offered, wryly.
Allison, a very precocious eighth grader who reminded Lenora of her self at that age, ran to Lenora and kissed her after she cut the cake. "I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm old," she told her, enthusiastically, as Peg immediately corrected her faux pas. Lenora only laughed and pinched Allison's cheek, telling her not to fret over it.
Only Bill the fourth couldn't make it, but he called during the party and wished her a Happy Birthday over the phone. Bill and Peg gave her a very nice velvet robe and slippers to match, which further delighted her, as items such as these were the only things that really gave her pleasure anymore.
"In three years, we'll both be 100!" Billie Halley, her best friend and senior by one year, told her, "and we'll party together."
"You're on, old lady," Lenora shot back, as everyone laughed.
All of her few remaining friends were there. Friends she had known and gone to church with ever since moving here from California almost two generations ago. In many ways, it was the best birthday she had ever had. She was even able to eat a little cake and drink some punch. Bill and Peg's modest home had not been this full of people in a long time.
Later, at home in bed, she cried tears of sadness and joy before falling into the deepest sleep she enjoyed in many years. Lenora had had the time of her life. It was a very special birthday for her.
The next morning, she noticed the 20 dollar bill was still in its place on the coffee table. For the first time in weeks, she had not been alert to listen for her intruder. She began to think the man would not be back.
But, come back he did, several nights later. Maybe he had been smart and didn't want to go to the same well too many times in such a short span of time. At any rate, it had been almost eight weeks since his last "visit", after having robbed her five times in the previous 12 weeks preceding this. Whatever his reasons or motives were, Lenora Hinman could not care less. The important thing was that he came back one more time. As she heard him quietly enter the house at 3:03AM, she was both grateful and terrified.
She had to be fast, and that was not always possible at her age, but she did not have much time. This guy would be gone in just a few minutes. As she recalled what she would do and why, she summoned up reserves of mental and physical strength. Slipping quickly and quietly out of bed, she took her pistol from the nightstand and the vanilla scented candle she used as a night light from the chest of drawers and, wearing her new red velvet robe, stepped the short distance from her bedroom to the living room to greet her "guest."
She was in the middle of the living room with her gun pointed at him before he realized she was there. When he saw her, he lunged at her.
He was lightning fast, but was also a little too far from Lenora to get to her before she shot him between the eyes, killing him instantly. The sound of the gun rang in her ears, and she staggered backwards. She thought it was almost not necessary to stage what she would do next. It had almost happened anyway. If that fool and been half a foot closer . . .
But there was no time to stand around and dawdle. In this neighborhood, sometimes a gunshot brought the police, but often it did not. At three in the morning, most folks around here would mind their own business, lest the next gunshot be leveled towards a nosy neighbor.
But, she couldn't chance interference. Neighbors here may well investigate if it is realized a gunshot came from Lenora Hinman's home. She knew that she had to act NOW.
Quickly saying a silent prayer, she dropped the candle to the floor, immediately igniting the old, dry carpet. As it rapidly flamed into a spreading fire, engulfing the equally old and dry curtains and furniture, Lenora let herself fall on the square shaped table her TV set was on, deliberately gashing her head against the sharp corner of the table.
The self-imposed head injury did not knock her out, but it knocked her woozy and she could not have escaped even if she wanted to. Her last conscious thought was spent congratulating herself on her aim. It was of tremendous importance to her the cause
of her death be so obvious as to not require an autopsy. Good old Doc Hamilton had not documented her stomach cancer.
She managed to land right on her left temple and was bleeding profusely when she lost consciousness from shock and smoke inhalation.
3.
"It was a nice funeral," Peggy told him. What else do you say about the funeral of a loved one? she thought, feeling somewhat foolish.
"Well, I thought so, Bill replied, as he continued to search through mountains of old boxes and paper sacks in the basement of his grandmother's home, which, save for some minor smoke damage, was spared when the fire gutted the inside of the old brick home. Though Lenora had been gone several weeks, cleaning up brought back memories of that fateful night.
He and Peg hoped to do the basement in one day, but they quickly saw it would be a two, possibly three, day job and maybe more. There were 50 years of Grandma's life documented here, and they had to discipline themselves to keep working on the frequent occasions an intriguing memento was found.
The will had been read just two days ago, which was the reason for the delay in cleaning out what remained of the house.
The fire gutted the inside of the house proper: everything in the home, including the inside structure, was old and bone dry, and ignited and burned quickly as kindling wood in a fireplace. The house was destroyed and Grandma was gone long before help arrived. The charred bodies of the robber and Grandma were found with the pistol still in her blackened hand and the bullet inside the thief's skull. The indention in her skull was noted and the authorities assumed she had either been struck by the intruder or had fallen. No further examination of her body was made. Trauma and smoke inhalation had undoubtedly been the cause of death.
The Hinman's were now unexpectedly a well to do couple. Being Lenora Hinman's sole heirs, Grandma left them almost half a million dollars in cash and various oil company stocks, plus they stood to collect on the house's fire insurance policy and Lenora's life insurance, which, oddly enough, had an accidental death rider attached to it only weeks before. In all, Bill and Peggy were now, thanks to the deceased Lenora, worth about a million dollars.
It was more than enough to pay off their two mortgages and provide college educations for each child, plus insure a comfortable retirement in the not too distant future.
Towards the end of the day, Peg found an old steamer trunk in a dark corner of the storage area underneath the stairs. It was full of old newspapers and letters from many years ago, before Grandma and Grandpa (funny, I never knew him, thought Bill) moved to Oklahoma City, Bill the III's lifelong home.
"I'm hot, tired, and hungry, and it's after four. Let's take this home and go through it there," Bill said in his don't argue with me voice.
Hauling it up the stairs proved to be a difficult task. The trunk was very heavy and bulky, and neither Bill nor Peg was particularly big or strong. After much effort, however, they made it to the top of the basement stairs.
They began going through its contents later that evening after cleaning up and eating a good meal out.
Several nights later Peggy read the following article from a yellowed newspaper from the steamer trunk to her astonished husband.
From the Modesto (California) Bee, March 21, 1939-"White Paroled After Twelve Years."-Convicted bank robber and murderer Lenore White was paroled from the Colorado State Prison near Boulder, Colorado, yesterday, after serving nearly 12 years of a life sentence. Convicted in 1926 of shooting a teller between the eyes and killing him while robbing the First National Bank of Colorado with her partner, convicted thief and murderer Jimmy Sanders, on August 2, 1924, Miss White was paroled on condition she leave the state and never return.
Miss White, from here, stunned the parole board by informing them she is married and has a teenage son. She was granted parole not only because of her exemplary behavior while incarcerated but also in recognition of her role in assisting the authorities in recovering the almost one million dollars in stolen money she and Sanders took from various banks and businesses in the State of Colorado over a period of almost five years, from November 1919 until October, 1924. Over $600,000 has been recovered. It is assumed Sanders, who died of a heart attack while on death row in 1932 and who was the more vicious of the two, squandered the rest.
Colorado authorities will not comment on Miss White's whereabouts. They will say only that she is relocated "a long way from here," and that "she is starting a new life."