by Nic Saint
“Spoilsport.”
“I’ve got my article to finish and I intend to do it without being interrupted by a bunch of crazy partygoers.”
“Not crazy, my friend, simply merry and bright. And you can always take refuge in the old fishing lodge. I’m sure no one will disturb you there.” And before ‘brother Rick’ could lodge a formal complaint, he disconnected the phone and got in touch with some of his best and oldest friends, directing their attention to the fact that tonight the party to end all parties was taking place at that old shack Casa di Amore, and urging them to invite whomever they could think of.
These old friends, the same ones who had warned him not to get engaged to Charlene Calypso, were a lot more supportive than Rick, and promised Bomer they’d show up in droves.
By the time he rolled up the driveway to Casa di Amore, the twinge of doubt that had entered his mind when Rick had pointed out he’d have to join the army of worker bees if he kept up this party spirit, had all but disappeared, washed away by the prospect that he was about to stage a comeback that would have the paparazzi buzzing like in the old days.
Bomer Calypso was back, and this time he was here to stay. And if Charlene Falcone didn’t like it, she could lump it.
Chapter 33
Scottie, Bianca Bell’s faithful collie, lifted a drooping eyelid, then closed it again. The dog was as much a fixture of Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room as the Bell family themselves. Even though he wasn’t strictly allowed, he enjoyed gamboling about the place, collecting here a scrap of cake, there a cut of cheese, and sometimes even a sliver of bacon, if a customer couldn’t resist the pleading look in Scottie’s soft brown eyes.
This morning however, Scottie seemed out of sorts, for he merely lay beneath the counter at Bianca’s feet in his basket—the place from where he coordinated his forages—and didn’t stir.
All morning he’d laid there and hadn’t even lifted his head.
Bianca was starting to get worried. The dog had an uncanny knack for detecting trouble, and usually when he acted like this, it was because something terrible was about to happen. One time, when Felicity had been hit by a bus on her way home from school, Scottie had acted just like this. The moment Felicity was on her feet again, the dog had rebounded. It was almost as if the two shared a mystical bond of some kind, an area Bianca’s sister was more familiar with.
Bettina enjoyed dabbling in the occult, and had frequently explained that animals such as Scottie live in the fifth dimension, where they can observe things that are unknowable to us poor humans, who inhabit the first dimension. Usually Bianca simply let Bettina ramble on about her spiritual observations, but today she was wondering if there really was something to them.
For one thing, Felicity herself had also seemed out of sorts today, and it all had to do with this man Rick Dawson she’d met the day before. What little Bianca knew about him was that the two had had some sort of run-in, and things had quickly spiraled out of control. She didn’t usually give in to worrying and fretting, but when the news broke that Felicity had posted a video on the interwebs revealing some very personal details about herself, Bianca’s agitation had jumped off the charts.
Felicity was always so careful how she presented herself, knowing full well that in a small town like Happy Bays rumors tend to spread like wildfire and when you run a business like Bell’s, you need to be extra careful what you put out there for people to gossip about.
She’d always known that when the day came that Felicity would bring home a boyfriend, it would be a very special person, for her daughter was notoriously picky when it came to men.
Now this Rick had entered the picture, and she knew there was more to him than Felicity let on.
She wasn’t the kind of mother who butted into her daughter’s private affairs, but what with Scottie acting up, and men approaching her on the street asking all sorts of questions about Felicity’s reluctance to date, and even her sex life—the horror!—she began to see that a mother’s firm hand was what was needed in this affair, and she pondered about the best way to approach the matter.
She knelt down to pat Scottie’s head. The dog didn’t even bother to acknowledge the gesture of affection and Bianca’s lips tightened. Yes, something was definitely going on with Felicity, and she was going to make certain she didn’t end up under the bus again, this time figuratively.
She quickly made her way to the kitchen, where her cousins Busby and Bancroft were busy stuffing their faces with leftovers. “Boys, could you mind the store for an hour? I have to go out.”
Reluctantly, Busby tore himself away from the bodybuilding magazine he was perusing, and Bancroft from Kim Kardashian’s latest bestseller The Selfiest Woman on the Planet, and both young men slouched out of the kitchen.
She placed her apron on the peg by the door, fixed her hair, and checked in the mirror to see if the last remnants of flour were removed from her face. Within minutes, she was in her Mini Cooper en route to Casa di Amore, where she knew Rick Dawson was staying. She wanted to know what his intentions were with her daughter. Mabel, who’d heard it from her sister-in-law Francine, who worked for the Calypsos as a housekeeper, had told her Rick had arrived there in Felicity’s van that morning. And she thought she’d even seen them kiss!
With pursed lips, Bianca buzzed through town, and decided that if this Rick thought he was going to take advantage of a woman who’d never been in a serious relationship before, he had another thing coming.
Chapter 34
As Felicity stepped inside Charlie’s Funeral Delight she thought not for the first time how ill-advised Alice’s uncle had been in choosing this name for his establishment. Soft Muzak played in the showroom, and she let her eyes wander over the rows of gleaming caskets on display, discretely backlit and every single one looking more resplendent than the next.
Her gaze was drawn to a sign that announced the mahogany caskets were twenty-five percent off this week, in a super ‘afterlife deal.’
Uncle Charlie clearly didn’t believe in subtlety when hawking his wares.
Heading straight for the back, she swung through the double doors that led into the bowels of the mortuary.
She almost bumped into Alice, who was wiping her hands and chewing down the last remnants of a muffin, on her way to the casket room to assist this new customer.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said a little annoyed. Instantly she did an about-face and headed back to her uncle’s office, where she spent most of her time when not waiting on customers.
“I need your advice, Alice.”
“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re in the market for a casket?”
Felicity shivered slightly. The air in this part of the mortuary was frigid.
“Rick has asked me to dinner, and I need to make myself presentable.”
She plunked herself down on Uncle Charlie’s swivel chair. Like the rest of the office furniture, he’d snapped it up at the army surplus store, which made the cramped space look as if it belonged in the seventies. The Whitehouses clearly believed in frugality.
Alice’s eyes widened. “A date! Fee, that’s great!”
“Yeah, I gave him a lift to Casa di Amore and we got to talking.” She blushed, remembering the pleasant time they’d spent. “He’s actually a nice guy, you know.”
“What about those charges you wanted to press against him?”
“That’s all off. He invited me to dinner at the Calypso place, and now I don’t know what to wear.” Or how to make herself presentable. She’d let her appearance slide lately. Her legs needed waxing, her pits were a mess and her eyebrows were a relic from the eighties, when hairy had been considered sexy.
Alice eyed her critically. “Mh. You could use some work.”
“Some work? I need so much work I probably won’t be ready for a week!”
“What time is this date?”
“Eight—ish.”
Alice pursed her lips. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time. And I have to work until six
.”
Felicity placed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Pretty please?”
Alice shrugged. “What the hell. It’s been quiet all day. Let’s do it now.”
“Here?”
“Sure. Why not? Uncle Charlie’s in Miami for the annual funeral directors’ congress.”
“I didn’t even know there was a funeral directors’ congress.”
“Honey, this is a democracy. There’s a congress for everybody.” She rose from the chair and curled her finger. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Felicity followed her friend and her heart dropped when she realized she was heading into the prep room. She’d never liked that particular part of the mortuary. It reminded her of old horror movies. Though Alice’s uncle liked to keep the place squeaky clean and looking like a hospital operating room, it smelled funny and she was always afraid to find herself in the company of one of the recently departed.
Casting a wary eye at the wall of coolers, she had to suppress a shiver. Fortunately, the prep room itself was devoid of dead people. Apparently, before leaving for his congress, Uncle Charlie had tucked them all safely away.
“Sit,” said Alice, pointing to a metal chair next to the operating table.
Obediently, Felicity sat. “You’re going to work on me…here?” she asked a little uncertainly. This seemed highly inappropriate. Not to mention creepy.
“Sure,” said Alice as she rummaged around in a cupboard. She returned with something that resembled a large toolbox, and plunked it down on the operating table. “This is Uncle Charlie’s beauty case,” she explained as she snapped the locks and started rifling through the little drawers with relish.
Felicity gulped. “I didn’t know he was into this kind of thing.” She watched as Alice opened compartment after compartment. The bulky case contained everything a beautician needs. Brushes and curlers, creams and lotions, eyeliners and lipsticks, concealers and powders, blushes and bronzers, mascara and eyeliners…
Alice chuckled. “This is not for Uncle Charlie, silly. This is what he uses for his customers.”
“His…customers?”
“Dead people. Believe me, it’s much harder to make a dead body look good than a live one. Now sit back and let me assess the damage.”
Chapter 35
One hour later, Felicity’s eyebrows were starting to look normal again. And Alice was just lathering up a batch of soap to work on her pits, when the shop bell announced that a customer had arrived.
Ejaculating a powerful curse, Alice set down the bowl, wiped her hands on a towel, and excused herself.
Patiently awaiting her friend’s return, Felicity decided to continue the tune-up Alice had commenced. She quickly soaped up her armpits, and started applying a Gillette Venus to the exposed area. She felt relieved she’d asked Alice to help her out. Four hands were better than two, and Alice was something of a self-proclaimed beauty expert, having at one time taken beautician classes.
Nothing had ever come of it, but she still liked to help out those less fortunate in the looks department with encouragement and practical advice. Until now, Felicity had always declined the offer.
And she was just finishing up her left pit and getting ready for the other one, when an anomaly caught her eye. She’d purposely ignored the bank of freezers, but now her eye zoomed in on one of the drawers.
It was slightly ajar.
No matter how much she wished she could ignore the open drawer, she found that she couldn’t. She bit her lip, hoping Alice would soon return, and felt her discomfort rising like bile in her throat.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the drawer, and, not being able to stand the suspense, slowly rose to her feet. Making her way over, she approached the gleaming steel drawer with stealth and trepidation, much like one would a snow monkey in Central Park Zoo.
Her plan was to give the drawer a nudge, and instantly move away again.
She extended her hand, touched her index finger to the drawer, and pushed.
Unfortunately, the drawer refused to budge. It moved half an inch in the right direction, and then rolled back out.
Seeing this required a firm approach, she stole out her hand, and shoved.
Once again, the drawer seemed to sway, and then rolled out again.
Something, she deduced, was stuck inside, and she didn’t dare think what it could be. A hand, possibly, or a foot? Or, God forbid, someone’s head?
Then, with shivering bottom lip, she realized what this meant. Whoever was inside that drawer must have thawed out by now, and since she’d been a fervent fan of The Walking Dead, she knew exactly what happened to corpses that don’t receive the proper refrigeration. They rot.
She sniffed once and thought she detected a funny smell. Wrinkling up her nose, she decided that she should simply wait until Alice returned. She was the professional, after all. She should deal with this mess.
But then curiosity took over. She had to know what was inside that drawer.
She screwed up her courage to the sticking point and craned her neck to take a look, then forced herself to gaze into the abyss.
At the sight of the corpse which lay curled up inside the drawer, a scream first formed in the back of her throat before it found its way to her lips and rang out like a trumpet call.
It was the body of a cat.
And not just any cat.
It was her own darling Gaston.
Dead as a doornail.
Chapter 36
Falcone opened the door to the two men, and gave them a curt grumble by way of a greeting. As usual, the sight of Jerry and Johnny made him nauseous. He knew, of course, that to succeed in business, sometimes corners had to be cut, and even eggs broken, and these two idiots were something of a necessity, but that didn’t mean he had to like them.
They were good, he had to give them that. Like that one time a little old lady had refused to clear out when he’d wanted to buy her house, raze it to the ground, and build another one of his skyscrapers. One visit from Jerry and Johnny had done the trick, and the project had gone off without a hitch.
He disliked problems, and he employed people who made them go away. So when word reached his ears that Rick was writing a series of scathing articles about him, he’d first tried to reason with the boy, and when that hadn’t worked, had simply handed the affair to Jerry and Johnny, fully expecting them to perform their magic and make this problem, like all others, disappear.
Only it hadn’t. Unlike his competitors, little old ladies or pesky politicians, Rick proved to be one tough nut. No matter how hard Jerry and Johnny leaned on the boy, Rick kept popping up like a bad penny.
In Falcone’s estimation, failure was not an option, and he intended to give the two men an earful. But first he needed to know more about a matter that puzzled him.
“I don’t think I heard you right Jerry, but when I called earlier you told me Rick had run afoul of some woman called Felicity Bell, who had already tried to take him out a couple of times, using brute force in the process. Is that right?”
“That’s right, Mr. Falcone, sir,” Jerry said deferentially.
“So am I to understand that she’s succeeding where the two of you are not?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, sir. It’s just that Rick’s a really tough man to find.”
“You mean to tell me that you still haven’t found him?”
Jerry visibly wrestled with his emotions. “Well—that is to say—”
“No, Mr. Falcone, sir. We haven’t been able to locate him yet,” said Johnny.
“So you have no idea where he is?”
“We almost caught him at the Happy Bays Inn, but he gave us the slip,” Johnny said with a moronic grin.
“So you’re nowhere nearer to getting that blasted file from him.”
“We’re on the right track sir,” Jerry said with a warning glance at Johnny.
“What do you mean? Looks to me you’ve been gallivanting all over the p
lace while this Felicity Bell is doing all the work. Who is she working for, by the way?”
“Bell’s Bakery & Tea Room,” said Johnny. “Best gophers in town.”
So she was one of the bakery bunch, huh? Maybe tracking down guys was just a sideline for her. In any case she was good. Better than these two morons. She’d even managed to put Rick in the hospital. Not that he was in favor of using violence on the boy, but it showed enterprise. Initiative. Looked like she was succeeding where Jerry and Johnny were failing miserably.
He made up his mind. It never did take long for him to recognize a good deal when he saw it, and with the same swiftness he took business decisions, he said, “You’re fired, the both of you. Now clear out.”
“What? But sir!” cried Jerry, dismayed.
“For Christ’s sakes, take it like a man, Jerry. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming. When I pay good money to get a job done, I expect to get value for my buck. As far as I can tell, you two had every opportunity to get the file back from Rick and instead you let this woman get the better of you. Now don’t make me say this twice.” Then, just for the heck of it, and because he was a fan of The Donald, he said it anyway, rolling the words around his tongue with relish. “You. Are. Fired!”
The moment Jerry and Johnny had left, he picked up the phone and put in a call to his secretary. “Suzy, I need the address of a Felicity Bell. Bell, yes. She’s one of those bakery people. Yeah. Get back to me as soon as you can.”
Disconnecting, he felt as many a great man has felt in the course of history: if you want something done, better to do it yourself.
Chapter 37
As is often the case when two great minds align, Bianca Bell, pressing the bell of Casa di Amore, was thinking just the same thing at that exact same moment. The door swung open, and the disheveled form of Rick Dawson appeared, staring at her over the rim of a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.
