by j l johnson
“It’s different than Sinful, but different can be good,” Gertie said.
“And the hijacking?” Fortune goaded. Sometimes getting answers, at least the answers she wanted, from these two was impossible, she thought. “Were there any repercussions?”
“We all figured it was actually a good thing the hijacking occurred when it did,” Gertie replied. “No one died… Well, except for Dan, and that was quite a few months later. I still think the man died of a broken heart, not from the injuries he suffered from his jump.”
“The public outcry was what finally convinced the government that it needed to take control of the situation. No searches would’ve ever been required if it hadn’t have been for him blatantly carrying that bomb onto that plane,” Ida Belle agreed. “It was going to happen sooner or later and who knows, Dan may have saved some lives in the long run.”
Against her better judgment, Fortune had agreed to help re-bury Dan’s body much further away from town. They’d re-bury him and the secret of how and why he’d committed his crime. The tattered, leather briefcase full of ransom money would have to be re-buried along with his remains.
She convinced the ladies to bury Marge’s confession, sealed in the water-proof, fire-proof, lock box, along with the contents of Dan’s wallet, so if his body was ever discovered in the future, people would know who he was and the mystery could finally be solved. She just hoped it wouldn’t be uncovered for years and years.
She understood what Gertie had meant about it all being a massive can of worms that shouldn’t be opened. The national media, maybe even the Worldwide media, would converge on Sinful if any word of the hijacker ever surfaced.
The name D.B. Cooper may not be as well known as it once had been, but it was still associated with an unsolved mystery, and it rated right up there with Amelia Earhart’s disappearance and the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle.
She might as well add Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, and all those conspiracy theories that wouldn’t fade away, to that list. As much as she’d like Dan’s and Alma’s story made public, she had to agree, the risks were too extreme.
Of course, she had her own reasons for not wanting any reporters or photojournalists here in Sinful. Any video or picture of her, even with the hair extensions, the perfectly shaped eyebrows. and the rest of her ridiculous disguise, could mean her imminent death. She was as much in hiding as poor Dan had been.
Fortune patted the last bit on dirt down on the grave and they all stood back to admire their hard work. It had been hard work, moving the remains of the body, and both the lock box and the remnants of the briefcase.
The body and the briefcase were now both buried in sturdy burlap bags. They’d both kept falling apart as the ladies tried to put them in the wheelbarrow. Ida Belle had solved the problem. “I knew we should’ve used a body bag back then,” she’d said under her breath.
“Well, why not now?” Fortune asked. “It sounds like it would’ve been a great idea then and it still sounds like a great idea,” she said, and both ladies agreed.
Ida Belle had some large burlap bags at her house and had run back to get them while Fortune started on the new grave.
Digging a grave that deep hadn’t been easy either. What she wouldn’t have given for a backhoe, she thought and almost laughed out loud. She hadn’t realized she even knew what a backhoe was.
Gertie leaned down and dusted Magnolia blossoms from her satchel all around the top of the pile. The white blossoms glowed in the moonlight.
“They’re so pretty,” Fortune said as she stooped down to pick up one of the blossoms.
“They really are, aren’t they, dear. I think he’ll like it here,” Gertie said.
“And this time he’s so deep, nobody will disturb him for a good, long time,” Ida Belle added, as she glanced back toward town.
They were so far out, the lights from town didn’t even shine, but Fortune glanced back anyway, and heard something. “Oh no! I swear by all that’s holy, please don’t let that be what I think it was,” she exclaimed. “Was that what I think it was?”
“Definitely a dog barking,” Ida Belle answered. “Only question is, who’s dog is it?”
“It can’t be,” Gertie gasped. “What on earth is he doing out here this late at night?”
“Ladies, I really, really think we need to move away from the freshly dug grave,” Fortune stage-whispered. “Pretend we’re just out for a walk…”
“This late after midnight, dear? Do you think he’ll believe that?” Gertie asked.
“We’ll tell him none of us could sleep, I don’t know… Can you think of a better idea? Cuz, I’m all ears.” Fortune snapped as Rambo Dog came running up to them, slobber drooling from his massive jaws.
They could see Carter following far behind. Fortune knew he’d soon catch up to his dog, though. That wretched man could move fast when he wanted to.
“Beat feet! Ladies, we need to move now!” Fortune hissed at her companions. Whatever happens, she thought, at least she was fully dressed this time.
The End
Thank Yous
Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly took great joy in writing it.
I’d like to thank Jana DeLeon for creating her wonderful Kindle World, including the delightful town of Sinful and all of its quirky residents. I’d especially like to thank her for allowing us to borrow her characters and play around with them. I only wish I had some of that cough syrup…
I originally got the idea of fictionalizing the 1971 hijacking case while reading Louisiana Longshot (A Miss Fortune Mystery, Book 1), and stumbled upon the following paragraph:
CIA agents didn’t share their fears, thoughts or dreams— assuming they even had any— and they didn’t have layers to uncover. If they did, they were so well hidden, they were having a beer with D.B. Cooper. Everything at the CIA was about the work, and while the work itself might be complicated, everything surrounding it was black and white. - DeLeon, Jana (2013-12-17). Louisiana Longshot (A Miss Fortune Mystery, Book 1) (pp. 45-46). Jana DeLeon. Kindle Edition.
After chuckling out loud, and reading on to finish the book, that image of D.B. Cooper hiding out somewhere and enjoying a beer stuck with me. That was a name I hadn’t heard mentioned in a good many years. I later took the opportunity and questioned my kids (who are all in their thirties as of this writing) about the case.
Only one of my very worldly and intelligent children even knew who D.B. Cooper was. I imagined millions of people their age who didn’t know that the hijacking of airplanes had ever happened in the United States.
I imagined they didn’t realize that Walter Cronkite faithfully appeared on our black and white televisions every week night and told us the news of the day. All of the day’s news in one short half-hour program. Just imagine!
Clearly, a new generation needed to hear about the mysterious case of D.B. Cooper, and a time when smoking was allowed on planes, trains and in automobiles. Smoking was allowed everywhere and everyone smoked, including the doctors. People actually thought it was good for you!
But I digress:
My generation will probably be the last to remember a time when people hesitated to make long-distance phone calls because it was so expensive, and you had to call from your kitchen where your phone was connected to the wall by a cable. At least it never got lost, and a new model didn’t come out every six months!
We’ll also be the last to remember a time when you had to use maps or an atlas if you planned a cross-country trip. You had to be able to read them and use a ruler to figure out the distances between places. And, once in your car, you had to pay strict attention to roadsigns.
I had to write about a time when you needed to dress in your Sunday best to board a plane. You bought a ticket (cash would do) at the airport, walked onto an airplane from the stairs pushed up to the door, and sat down to enjoy your ride. Back when there were no checkpoints, no I.D required, and no searches, of either your luggage o
r your body.
I had Marge meet her friend Wilma in Seattle at the World’s fair because I was actually at that fair as a small child and we stayed with my aunt Wilma. I didn’t think she’d mind me borrowing her name.
I can still remember some of the amazing exhibits. I’m sorry to say I cried on the elevator ride going to the top of the Space Needle though. I was absolutely terrified of being in the enclosed space for so long. I later found out the trip only took 41 seconds… It was still the longest 41 seconds of my life.
When Amazon announced a Miss Fortune Kindle World was opening for new stories, I knew I had to write the story you’ve just read…
Because where better than Sinful, Louisiana for a mystery of such magnitude to remain hidden all these years? And who better to keep it hidden than the remarkable women of the Sinful Ladies Society?
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Thank Yous
