by Rita Lakin
Respect at last.
FORTY-SEVEN
Girls Travel Home Again. Jiggity Jig
We say goodbye, with much hugging from one and all, and pack up the old Chevvy wagon. Full of goodies from Teresa; she has learned how much my girls enjoy eating on the road. And off we head back for home.
We’re only a mile or two down the highway when Sophie goes directly into complaint mode. I was waiting for it to happen. My girls are so predictable. ‘We never saw anything in Key West. Not a museum. Not the Truman winter home. No night-time cruises. No steel drums. No fireworks. Nothing.’
Bella objects. ‘We did see Papa’s mansion with all the cats.’
Evvie can’t resist. ‘Yeah. After midnight, with a flashlight; and Sophie thought they were rats.’ We laugh.
Bella, ‘Not even one slice of key lime pie.’
Sophie, ‘No eating in seafood restaurants.’
Evvie, ‘No sunsets at that famous Mallory Square.’ She grins. ‘But we did get to take a ferry boat ride and get to see a play in a theater.’
Bella, sulky, ‘That doesn’t count. That was work.’
I jump in. ‘All right already. Stop complaining. We came to do a job and we did it.’
Evvie, ‘Even if we didn’t get paid.’
Mumbles about that; not that we really care. What we care for is success and we had that. A happy successful ending.
‘Louie and Sadie did hug us,’ Bella offers. ‘They were grateful.’
Evvie scoffs. ‘There was that.’
Quiet for a while. There’s the same elephant in the car, I wonder how long it will take to be brought out.
About five miles later.
Surprisingly, Evvie is first to fold. Low voice, embarrassed, ‘Okay. I admit I saw him.’
Sophie, pauses, then shrugs. ‘I thought I was the only one. I saw him, too.’
Heaven help us; I admit, ‘I think I did, too.’
Bella. ‘What are you all talking about? Who did you see?’
I say it. ‘He was standing across the street from our B&B.’
Evvie, ‘Laughing at us.’
Sophie, ‘A real hunk.’
Evvie, ‘Egotistical SOB.’
Bella pokes Sophie, then Evvie, ‘Who? Who?’
Evvie admits, ‘Papa …’ As if she doesn’t know. ‘Hemingway …’
Me, ‘In that dashing red bullfight cape …’
Sophie, ‘Smoking a Cuban cigar.’
Bella’s eyes pop wide open. ‘You saw him, you really saw him!’
Evvie, ‘He even waved.’
Bella starts laughing and hiccupping and can’t stop. ‘I thought I was crazy.’
We really saw a ghost?
Nah!
Some more silence. Evvie, always the logician, ‘If he could get around, like out in the ocean where Strand’s boat was, and yesterday across the street from us, why couldn’t he have moved to some other building to live in?’
If there ever was an outrageous conversation, this was it.
Bella decides to answer this question that was constantly puzzling us. ‘Because he liked it at the Wassingers. They were nice to him. And besides, they could see him and could talk to him. And furthermore, who else would believe he existed?’
Asked and answered.
I reach for an envelope out of my purse, next to my seat. ‘It’s a note from Mrs Wassinger. I saw Sadie sneak it into my purse while we were eating breakfast. Evvie, please read it.’
Evvie opens the envelope. She reads,
Dear sweet Gladdy and your darling girls.
Thank you so much for helping us. Now that you were able to use Papa’s clues to solve the case, Papa was free to finally leave this mortal coil. He is on his way up to the pearly gates (at least I hope Peter or Gabriel lets him in; he did have a rather checkered career). We no longer care about the house. We are putting it up for sale and with the money, retiring to Paris. Thanks again. Your devoted friends, Sadie and Louie.
‘Un-be-lievable!’ says Sophie.
‘All that work for nothing,’ says Evvie.
‘No check for us in that envelope, I suppose.’ Sophie is sulking.
Quiet for a while, thinking, the solved case released Ernest from being earthbound? Who knows? What about our seeing the ghost? Maybe we all saw nothing and thought we saw something. A group optical illusion?
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘when we get home, not one single word about having a ghost for a client.’
Bella, ‘But I did …’
A swipe at her from Sophie. ‘You did not!’
Me speaking again, ‘Swear, swear none of you will never, ever, ever mention it. And especially not to Ida. You know how she gets about creepy things.’
Everyone swears.
Bella, ‘Not as a ghost story?’
Three voices screech, ‘NEVER!’
Quiet for a few minutes, then Sophie, ‘I’m thinking about revenge. What we’ll do to Hy Binder for putting us on that you hoo tube …’
More deep thinking, then:
Sophie, ‘You know those teeny, tiny alligators they sell to tourists? We buy one and drop it in his toilet.’
Evvie, ‘Spray paint his precious Mazda with skunk juice.’
Bella, ‘Steal his ugly bathing trunks off their balcony and cut holes in them.’
Raucous laughter.
And for the rest of the trip, that is the only discussion.
FORTY-EIGHT
A Happy Ending to our Story
Buddha has been quoted as saying ‘Three things cannot be hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.’ But with the return of all groups as well as singles: Gladdy and the girls; Ida; Hy; Jack, Joe and Sol, will put a lie to that statement.
Gladdy and the girls. As told to Ida: ‘We had a wonderful experience in Key West. We solved a murder by using our wits and also by good tips from a stranger.’ Truth: their ghost will never, never be revealed.
Ida as told to Gladdy and the girls: ‘Well, I looked for Hy; never did find him.’ Truth: yes, she did. Her raincoat remains hidden literally and figuratively.
Hy and Lola. Lola bought the amnesia story. Because she wanted to believe her husband wouldn’t lie to her. Truth: Dolly-Ann and Manny.
Hy to Gladdy and the girls. With Ida standing by: Hy shows up with roses and candy, apologizing for his behavior at the pool. He’s taken the photo off the Internet. Ida laughs, he did it because he’s guilt-ridden. Apology accepted. Hugs all around. Truth: he owes Ida forever for not betraying him. And her odd raincoat remains a secret.
The guys to Gladdy and Evvie: Jack and Joe extol the joys of the safari and photographing wild animals. A perfect, safe trip. Truth: one fearful night when they forgot to stay downwind of the baboons, the apes ran wild and were truly dangerous. A narrow escape never to be mentioned.
But wait. There’s Tessie greeting her dear hubby, Sol, just climbing off the airport bus. ‘You want to kiss me? Tell the truth. Did you eat any cockroaches? What are you not telling me? If you did, don’t you dare put your mouth near mine!’
‘I swear, I didn’t,’ sobs Sol. Truth: he did.
Home, Sweet Home.
The human heart has hidden treasures.
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
Charlotte Bronte
POSTSCRIPT
There exists a notable international Flash Fiction contest. The concept; write the shortest short story you can imagine using only six words. Ernest Hemingway, in his short story collection, In Our Time, might have been the first to publish one that became famous. ‘For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.’
However, attribution has been argued through the years. Other possible forerunners were The Algonquin Round Table. Terse Tales of the Town, in 1906. A long list of others, going as far back as Aesop’s Fables.
But I choose to pay un homage to Mr Hemingway, by having each of my novel’s chap
ter headings a flash fiction six-word story.
