A Blooming Fortune

by Stephen John

  “Me? Are you certain?”

  Celia gasped and fell back into her chair, covering her mouth to suppress a squelch. She looked around the dining room again to see if she had attracted any attention.

  “I felt so bad for you Celia,” I said, finally jumping in. “This role would have been so perfect for you.”

  “Yes,” Gertie agreed, “The job description was practically written with you in mind.”

  Ida Belle flashed Gertie a disapproving look. Fortunately, Celia didn’t catch it.

  “That can’t be right,” she replied. “Victor hates me.”

  “Hates you?” Ida Belle repeated, “Oh, heavens no, what made you think that?”

  “You should have heard the way he spoke to me the day he arrived. Fortune was there. She can tell you.”

  I smiled and shook my head, dismissively, “Well, I thought that too, at first,” I said, “but I came to realize, he treats everyone that way, even his own sister, and he loves her. You heard the way he talked to Bessie, didn’t you?”

  Celia’s eyes widened again as she thought about what I’d said, “Yes, I did, now that you mention it.”

  “And he talked the same way to me,” I said.

  “It’s a British thing,” Ida Belle said. “You know, all the banter. You’ve seen Monty Python, Celia, right?”

  “I think so. Mr. Bean is in that, right?”

  “Sure,” Ida Belle said, rolling her eyes.

  Gertie leaned forward, “You know, Celia, you and I have had our major differences, but I have to say, when I heard about the PR position, I had to admit, I couldn’t think of anyone in Sinful more qualified to do the job.”

  “Well, that is true. I am extremely good with public relations—one might even say . . . outstanding.”

  “One might say . . . something like that, yeah,” Gertie replied, a slight edge in her voice breaking through.

  “That’s what I was thinking, too,” I said, forcing back the urge to vomit.

  “But after what has occurred, it’s all off now,” Ida Belle said, pulling Celia back down to earth. “The Center for the Performing Arts is never going to be built.”

  Celia gasped again. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

  “No.”

  “I’d love to find out who went to the DA and caused all this trouble,” Gertie scowled. “If I ever do find out who this anonymous person is, I’ll make sure every man, woman and child in Sinful knew who it was that allowed Emma’s murderer to go free and cost this town a performing arts center. That person will never be able to show their rotten face in town again, and it would be justified. Don’t you agree, Celia?”

  Celia’s face reddened, “Why . . . I . . . uh . . .”

  “I think that’s something we can all agree on,” Ida Bella jumped in. I nodded in agreement as well.

  I could almost hear the wheels turning in Celia’s head as thoughts began racing through her mind.

  “You know, I was thinking . . .” Celia began, right on cue.

  “I thought I smelled smoke,” Gertie interrupted, chuckling.

  “Shush, Gertie,” Ida Belle said. “Let Celia finish.” She turned back to her, “Go on, dear.”

  “I was thinking, maybe the information that made its way to the DA’s office was a . . . you know, a . . . mistake,” she said, her voice trailing off.

  Ida Belle’s face tightened in feigned surprise, “What? A mistake? Celia, do you know something?”

  “Well, as you know, I do have some influence in this town and I do hear things through the grapevine.”

  “Yes, we know,” Ida Belle said. “What are your little birdies telling you about this situation?”

  We all leaned forward at once.

  “Well, what I’m hearing through a friend of a friend who knows someone, of course . . .”

  “Of course,” Ida Belle said.

  “What I’m hearing is, that this anonymous witness may have been . . . mistaken about what she saw and reported.”

  “You said ‘she,’” Ida Belle noted. “It was a woman?”

  “Oh, I’m not certain, really,” Celia said, backpedaling. “I guess I was assuming so, yes . . . I mean, I wouldn’t actually know for certain . . .”

  “Of course not. Go on,” Ida Belle said.

  “Well . . . as I was saying . . . I heard that the person who had reported information about what she allegedly saw from a great distance . . . may be having some second thoughts about whether she actually saw what she thought she saw. She has been having some trouble with her vision and is behind on her visit to the eye doctor . . . uh, or so I was told.”

  “Wow! That’s huge. Do you think this person is going to recant?” Gertie asked.

  “Well, I certainly think it’s possible.”

  “Hallelujah!” Gertie said, raising her arms in celebration. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “I mean, she should recant . . . if she wasn’t certain, right?” Celia said. “None of us want to see a killer go free.”

  “You’re so right,” Ida Belle said.

  Celia reached behind her and used her fingers to nervously play with her hair. She cleared her throat, “So, tell me . . . if that actually happened—I mean, if the witness recanted—do you think Victor and Bessie would reconsider going forward with the Center for Performing Arts?”

  “Fortune knows Victor better than any of us,” Gertie said, looking in my direction. “What do you think?”

  “I think Victor and Bessie would both be tremendously pleased,” I responded. “If Gus Proctor’s bail is denied and he ends up getting convicted, I do believe that they would proceed with the Center for Performing Arts as originally planned.”

  Celia beamed, “Do you think they would still like to have me as their PR Manager?”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said, wondering if lightning would strike me dead.

  “They love you, Fortune,” Celia said. “You know I’m perfect for that job, too. I mean, I’d have your recommendation as well, right?

  I bit my lip and felt myself ready to start choking. I forced a smile but was unable to actually speak. With my lips pinched together, all I could do was squeak out a meek, “Um hmm.”

  Celia wrinkled her forehead and looked at Ida Belle, “Did she say . . . yes?”

  Ida Belle nodded, “She said yes.”

  “That’s fantastic news,” Celia said. “I have to go, now.”

  “Where are you going?” Gertie asked.

  “Oh . . . I have to check in with my sources, so I can . . . find out . . . stuff.”

  Ida Belle smiled, “Thanks, Celia. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Celia,” Gertie added, forcing a smile.

  Ida Belle looked at me and smiled. Gertie was grinning from ear to ear. I smiled too, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if I would ever be able to sleep again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two full days had passed since Celia floated out of Francine’s on cloud nine. I had been invited to afternoon tea with Victor and Bessie Bloom. Ida Belle and Gertie joined me. Victor was laughing loudly as Ida Belle and Gertie replayed the conversation with Celia. His chortle reminded me of a laugh Santa Claus would use.

  “Well, no matter how this turns out, I certainly thank you all for your efforts on my sister’s behalf,” Victor said. “Miss Ida Belle, I think we should rename you, Stradivarius.”

  “Stradivarius,” she repeated. “Why?”

  “Because you played Celia like a fiddle,” he replied.

  Everyone began to laugh. There was a knock on the door. Bessie answered. It was Carter. He stepped inside.

  “I hope I’m not intruding,” he said. “From outside, it sounds like quite the party going on in here. I can come back.”

  “Nonsense, Deputy LeBlanc,” Bessie said. “Come in—sit. Would you like some tea?”

  “No thank you. I won’t be long. I heard some news just a little while ago. I was certain you’d want to hear it as soon as possible.”

>   The smiles all disappeared from our faces.

  “Well, don’t keep us waiting, Carter,” I said. “What is it?”

  “I just got off the phone with Dan Wurgler,” he said, “the ADA, the man in charge of . . .”

  “Yes, we know who he is, Carter,” Ida Belle chimed in. “What’s the news?”

  “It seems as though there was an anonymous witness who had testimony that may have been very damaging to the people’s case against Gus Proctor. The witness came forward several days ago . . .”

  “When all of a sudden . . .” Victor prompted, rotating his hand in the air, trying to move the conversation along.

  Carter frowned at the interruption, “It seems the witness had a change of heart. Apparently, she originally thought she saw something that would have ended up helping the defense. It’s all above my pay grade. I don’t know particulars. What I do know is that, out of the clear blue sky, the witness phoned in and claimed that the more she thought about things, the more uncertain she was about what she saw. She said she was too far away and didn’t have her glasses. She claimed to be totally confused and asked to withdraw her earlier statement. She said she could not, in good conscience, testify as to what she saw, if anything at all.”

  We collectively cheered. Ida Belle and Gertie gave each other fist bumps. I hugged Bessie, and carefully avoided hugging Victor.

  “That’s terrific news!” Bessie said.

  Carter smiled, “Well, if you liked that news, you’re really going to enjoy this. Apparently, this morning, Gus Proctor’s lawyer approached Dan Wurgler, wanting to make a plea bargain—a guilty plea in exchange for a reduced sentence.”

  My smile faded. I was elated to hear that Proctor was going to plead guilty but was not happy at all about hearing the words, reduced sentence, in any form. I saw Victor’s and Bessie’s faces. I could tell they felt the same.

  “But . . .” Carter added.

  “But what?” I asked.

  “Apparently, that plea request came after the judge was informed that the anonymous witness had recanted. He then ruled that the video of the confession was admissible.”

  “Oh,” Bessie said. “How did Mr. Wurgler react to that?”

  Carter’s smile broadened, “He told Proctor’s attorney there would be no plea bargain—that he’d see them in court. In short, Gus Proctor is going down, and he’s going down hard.”

  “Yesssss!” Bessie cried out. Gertie woo hoo’d.

  “This is cause for celebration,” Victor said. “Bessie, break out that bottle of Duckhorn Merlot we’ve been saving for a special occasion. Deputy, will you join us?”

  “No, I’m on duty. I need to get back. Fortune, could I have a word?”

  “Of course. Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll catch up.”

  Carter nodded and left. I turned back to Victor and Bessie, “I’m going to go ahead and take off.”

  “No wine?” Victor said.

  I shook my head, no, “It’s time I turn my attention back to other matters I’ve been neglecting.”

  I nodded toward Carter.

  Victor raised his eyebrows, “Ah, our good friend Deputy LeBlanc,” he said. “I understand. He is one lucky man. I hope he realizes that.”

  “Thank you. You know, there is only one dark cloud remaining.”

  “What would that be?” Bessie said.

  “Your new PR Manager, Celia Arceneaux. She is going to want to know when she starts.”

  “God help us all,” Victor exclaimed, laughing. “It’s a small price and, frankly, I think the role may actually be well suited to her.”

  I nodded. “I also need a favor.”

  “Tell us,” Bessie said.

  “I need for Celia’s first act to be the arrangement for a community service award for Cindy Lou,” I said. “An award to be presented by Maxine Reed.”

  “Who the bloody hell is Cindy Lou?” Victor asked.

  “I’ll fill you in later,” Ida Belle said.

  “Whatever. I don’t care. I agree,” Victor said.

  “We can’t thank you all enough for what you’ve done,” Bessie said.

  “Indeed,” Victor said. “All of you.”

  “It was our pleasure,” I said. Ida Belle and Gertie both nodded.

  “Will you be staying on in Sinful?” Ida Belle asked.

  “We have a meeting with the real estate agent tomorrow morning,” Bessie said. “We head back to Vermont this weekend.”

  “For good?” Gertie asked.

  “Bessie and I need to decide what the future holds,” Victor said. “It seems the town of Sinful has taken a proverbial shine to us, and I must admit, the town does grow on you.”

  “Like the boil on your butt?” I asked.

  “Only time will tell. Who can say for sure?”

  “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Bessie asked Ida Belle and Gertie.

  “Oh, I have some fun plans,” Gertie said.

  “Really,” Bessie said. “What might those be?”

  “Well, I decided I couldn’t really allow Celia to completely get away with almost allowing Proctor to go free, so I have prepared a little surprise for her,” Gertie said.

  “Indeed? I’m intrigued,” Bessie said. “What is it?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” Gertie replied. “All I can tell you is, it involves cherry bombs and five pounds of fresh horse poop.”

  “Ah, revenge. Now you’re talking my language,” Victor said.

  Bessie nodded, “We have some spoiled fish we threw out yesterday. It’s still in our rubbish bin. It stinks to high heaven.”

  Gertie’s eyes lit up, “I can use that. Can I have it?”

  “Only if you let us in on your diabolical scheme,” Bessie said.

  “If you really want in, sure.”

  “Indeed. We’re in,” Victor added.

  “I’m going to go now,” I announced.

  “Thanks again, Fortune,” Bessie said.

  “You’re always welcome in Sinful,” I added.

  “Said the person whose future in Sinful is as nearly uncertain as ours,” Victor noted, smiling.

  “Safe travels,” I replied, smiling in return. I left. Carter was waiting by his vehicle.

  “Isn’t it wonderful how this is turning out?” I asked, as I approached Carter.

  “I’m very happy that Proctor is going to get his comeuppance, yes.”

  “You don’t seem all that happy, Carter.”

  “Well, the whole confession thing troubled me, and then, there’s the matter of this anonymous witness coming forward and suddenly recanting. It just feels like the letter of the law was manipulated.”

  I said nothing at first. We both stood there in silence for a moment. Carter was truly a man with unquestionable scruples. Finally, I spoke, “You know, Carter, in my previous life, before arriving in Sinful, we didn’t always have the luxury of dotting every ‘I’ and crossing every ‘T’, but I always acted for the common good. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in our system of justice. It’s just, there are times that it needs to be nudged to move things along. Gus Proctor is an evil man. The families of more victims are beginning to come forward. He preyed on vulnerable, defenseless women. If someone bent the rules a little to bring him to justice, and even one woman’s life was saved because of it, well, I can live with that. No one planted evidence. You saw the tape. He gloated about what he did, for crying out loud.”

  Carter listened carefully, nodding all the while, not in agreement, but in acknowledgement of what was being said. Finally, he pulled me into him, hugged me and gave me a long, warm kiss.

  “I’m free this evening,” he said. “What do you say you and I get together this evening and get caught up.”

  “Now you’re talking. You’re place or mine?”

  “Mine. I have a new recipe I want to try out on you.”

  “Sounds marvelous.”

  “Oh, and if you want, bring your toothbrush, and if you wouldn’t mind, you could
wear that yellow dress with the white print I like so much.”

  “Done and done. Any other instructions?”

  He smiled in return, “Leave your pajamas at home.”

  ~THE END~

  (I hope you enjoyed “A Blooming Fortune.” Below is a sample of my latest novella, “A Fish Bomb Caper”, available online through all the usual suspects.)

  SAMPLE CHAPTER

  THE FISH BOMB CAPER

  WHEN I ARRIVED AT FRANCINE’S, Ida Belle caught my attention and waved. I smiled and waved back. I hadn’t seen her or Gertie in a couple of weeks and I missed them. I gave her a warm hug before sitting.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” I told her.

  “I’ve been here less than five minutes,” she replied. “Gertie, it appears, is running sociably late.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll wait to order.”

  “Absolutely not. She knows the rules. She can catch up when she gets here. Let’s order now. I’m starving.”

  I signaled the waitress, Isabella. I ordered a fruit plate. Ida Belle ordered biscuits and gravy with double-extra gravy. My stomach churned slightly just hearing her order it.

  The perky waitress, Isabella, smiled at Ida Belle and sauntered away.

  “How’s Carter doing?” Ida Belle asked. “You two getting along well these days?”

  “It’s status quo. To tell you the truth, I think work pressures are beginning to get to Carter. He seems like he’s been in a funk a lot.”

  “Hmm, a funk, huh? You know what I do when Gertie gets in a funk?”

  “No, what?”

  “I send her out on an extended walk by the lake, in the sunshine and fresh air.”

  “Oh, that sounds pretty good. Does it work?”

  “Are you kidding? It works wonders. I can’t tell you how much better I feel when she leaves.”

  “No, I mean . . . does it work for her?”

  “Oh, that’s an interesting question. I’ve never thought much about it.”

  I shrugged and bobbed my head in appreciation. I heard laughter from a group of people sitting in the corner. It was a large group, mostly made up of older men, perhaps fifteen to twenty of them. I didn’t recognize any of them.