The Pandora Effect

by Olivia Darnell

  “Sometimes the best things in life are also the simplest. Those cookies, for example, are made practically of nothing and yet, they have the most exquisite flavor. It seems that we sometimes overlook the best things in life when we strive too hard to improve our standard of it.”

  “True, true.” She munched the cookie unabashedly as she spoke.

  “Actually, I have come to ask of favor of you,” he said simply, causing her to pause in her eating to look at him sharply.

  “Oh? And what would that be?” The remnants of her congeniality threatened to melt with the cookie.

  “Yes, I am indirectly helping a friend who is working for a noble cause.”

  She pursed her red lips and repeated his words. “A noble cause. And would I know this friend of yours?”

  “Yes, I think you do. Louis Parks, the police sergeant.”

  “Louis Parks,” she nodded. “Everyone knows Louis and his poor wife Julia. Only six or seven months left and we will be laying her to rest. Pre-paid, of course. I hear they have money problems.” She leaned forward to take on an air of confidentiality though she wondered why she would trust this stranger with a confidence. “I talked to him several weeks ago. He made a very wise decision to go with the combination plan for couples. He will be able to continue to make notes after a short respite for grieving. By the time he is ready to join her, his plan will be paid for.”

  “How do you know?” Perry frowned quizzically at her.

  “Well!” She laughed nervously. “I don’t know. No one knows for sure when their time will come. We have to consider normal time frames when making a financing decision. Louis Parks is in fairly good health and he has a burial insurance through his job that will pay any balance upon his death and that son of his... what's his name? The eternal student. He might be persuaded to upgrade if the funds are sufficient, but he'll probably just use the money for more pizza and beer. Frat boys! They never grow up, do they? Oh, but I'm rambling. I'm sure he's a fine young man.”

  Perry nodded and she thought suddenly of her son, Sam Jr., and wondered how he would have handled this conversation. Not very well, she thought. She cleared her throat and continued. “He chose plan two ‘b’. He saved money on the chapel costs by opting for graveside services only. She’s Catholic and I don’t know what he is exactly. Her church will bear the costs of the Chapel Service by having it at St. Anthony’s Holy Bier. Of course, there was a small additional fee to transport the body to the church, but one has to make a living. Anyway, he chose the pink steel with dogwood inlays for her and white satin. Just lovely and one of our most popular moderately priced lines. The package includes a vault and interment, of course. Opening and closing. He picked one of the best double plots available in the new section of Heavenly Rest Cemetery. And the monument... divine double hearts, coincidentally made from the famous pink granite mined from the very heart of Texas. Marble Falls, perhaps you've heard of it? And the plot... shaded by magnificent old Magnolia trees.”

  “Ah, hearts and Magnolias. A very romantic combination, don’t you think?” He asked. “They remind me of lotus blossoms. I believe there are some superb specimens on the Jenson property across the street from the Gift Shop. I sincerely hope that they will not be cutting those trees. Their scent reminds me of a warm, southern sea under a full moon. Their petals are as appealing as the curves of a virgin’s breast, but you cannot touch them, just as you cannot touch the breast of a virgin. They will wither and turn brown. Such fragile things, Magnolia blossoms and virginity...” His voice trailed off before he continued. "I noticed some workmen over there this morning."

  Mildred Morris sat with her mouth partially open staring at him. Her face had gone through a remarkable series of changes as he spoke to her. He looked at her in amusement and she blinked twice before focusing on his face.

  “At any rate,” he continued. “Louis Parks wants to rebuild the war memorial and he’s going to raise money by selling garage sale stuff ," he raised both hands in the air and made exaggerated quotation signs for the words. He'd seen a lady at the drugstore do it and thought it a nice touch to any conversation. "At his booth on Saturday. I am helping him to collect donations for his endeavor. Naturally, I assumed that you, being in the business of death and dying would appreciate the meaning of the memorial more than the average citizen. A woman of your obvious superiority in the business field was of course my first thought. I knew that you would want to be an example for others to follow, especially in the area of honoring the beloved dead.”

  Mildred’s face followed his words again. He could see that she was trying to filter insult from compliment and having a hard time of it.

  “What sorts of donations?” She asked finally.

  “Things you no longer want. Junk as he called it. I read somewhere that one man’s junk was another man’s treasure or something to that effect,” he told her.

  “Trash. The word is trash. One man’s trash,” she corrected him and smiled again. “Yes, I’m sure I have something he can use.”

  “Good. Good.” Perry stood up. “I’ll send him round before Saturday to pick it up. I hope you enjoy the gifts and do come over to meet my wife, Angelica. She loves to speak on intellectual subjects. She would be most pleased to meet you.”

  “Oh, yes, I would like to meet her, too.” Mildred looked up at him. Yes, she would love to meet the man’s wife. What kind of woman would have the nerve to marry someone like Perry Aliger? “And thank you so much for the potpourri. The smell reminds me of something from long ago... I’m not sure what. And the fortune cookies are absolutely divine. I’ll come for more of those if nothing else.” She gave him a coy look that she'd not used in ages.

  “Then I’ll be off.” He went to take her hand in his and a small spark erupted between their fingers. “You will be seeing more of us.”

  “Oh! Ow!” She said and then got up as he headed for the door. “I almost forgot.” She reached to take one of her cards from the holder on the desk. “I would be glad to talk to you and your wife anytime about our pre-paid arrangements.” She handed him the card and he slipped it into his pocket.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Morris.” He bowed his head slightly to her. “I’m sure my wife would enjoy seeing your monuments and vaults sometime.”

  “Please. Call me Millie,” she said before closing the door and then frowned down at her hand where she could still feel the tingle of the static shock.

  She meandered back to the desk and took another cookie from the box, dropping its wrapper in the trash. This time the concoction yielded a blue paper. She unfolded it absently and put half the cookie in her mouth then went to the window to watch Perry Aliger as he crossed the street. When he reached the sidewalk, he took his hands from his pockets and turned to look back up at her. She raised one hand and he nodded to her before continuing on his way.

  She looked down at the slip of paper.

  “And the wind shall say: Here were decent, godless people: Their only monument, the asphalt... T.S. Elliot, 1935.”

  She tapped one foot on the carpet and narrowed her eyes slightly. How very strange. She turned abruptly and crossed the office to the double French doors which opened onto the balcony overlooking Mary McDaniels home. The wind caught the billowy white draperies and blew them up in her face when she opened the doors. The black asphalt parking lot between her establishment and the yellow house seemed to leer up at her. Beyond Mary’s house, she could see and hear the construction crew at work. A large, green truck was parked along the curb and three men were feeding limbs into its hungry maw. The noise was absolutely horrendous. One of the oak trees shuddered as the bulldozer nudged it.

  Beyond the oaks remaining, she could see the tops of three stately Magnolias. By this time tomorrow, the lot would be completely devoid of everything but the remains of the big white house. She squinted at the trees in the bright light of the morning sun. They were on the far side of the property next to the street. Perhaps they could be left standing. Surely they woul
d not be in the way of the parking lot. And they were too far from Mary’s yard to provide any enjoyment for the stubborn old woman. Perhaps saving the Magnolias would provide her with some brownie points with the local citizenry. After all, what would Magnolia Springs be without its Magnolias? And what of Louis Parks’ monument? Rebuilding it was a fine idea, but wouldn’t building a new monument entirely be even better? Her mind began to form ideas.

  Would it be possible to save enough of the lot to build a monument beneath the Magnolias? Why, she could dedicate the monument to her late husband’s memory. She could put a few benches over there under the trees. There would also be some shade afforded the parking lot for her patrons. And she, Mildred Morris, could become part of the noble cause. A memorial and a pocket park for downtown Magnolia Springs. Why had she not thought of it before? It would be like a monument to her civic responsibility and community pride. Would that not burn up the old lady’s rear end? And the tax break!! She laughed aloud.

  Mrs. Morris hurried back to the desk and made a call to a cell phone number.

  “This is Mildred,” she said shortly. “Get Jake up here to see me right now.”

  She paused a moment and then continued. “I don’t care how busy he is. I’m the one paying him! Now get him over here!” She hung up the phone and reached for another cookie. She thought of Perry Aliger and his strange eyes. Certainly, it would be a shame to lay a body like his to rest. At least to eternal rest. She broke the cookie and crunched the delicious texture as it seemed to melt in her mouth. The yellow slip fell on the floor. She scooped it up and danced around the room as if she were at a ball, dipping and curtseying and giggling. She hummed a tune to herself as she opened the paper to read it.

  “The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right thing for the wrong reason. T.S. Eliot, 1935.”

  “Hmmph!” She said and stopped her waltzing, to wad the little paper in a tight ball. “Well, Mr. Eliot!” She threw the ball at the trashcan. “It would seem to me that the reason is irrelevant as long the deed is done.”

  But the words on the paper had struck a tiny chord in her well-insulated conscience. There was absolutely no way Perry Aliger could have planted those messages just for her. They were in a sealed box, in sealed wrappers. He could not have known about the long-standing feud between herself and Mary McDaniels. She was a good business woman and that is what he had said. It was why he had come to her first. Of course, he had come to her first. She would be the very one to set an example and it would far exceed anything Perry Aliger might have expected. She would build her pocket park and have her name in brass on her own monument and, of course, her husband’s name. Perhaps she could even buy the property across the street in the next block and build a real park with gardens and paths and fountains. Yes, she could envision it quite readily. The Samuel F. Morris Memorial Park. She smiled to herself and went back for the last irresistible cookie. This cookie gave up a plain white paper slip and crumbled into a million pieces in her hand. She tried to gather it into her mouth without spilling it everywhere. She unfolded the paper hesitantly.

  “There ain’t no way to find out why a snorer can’t hear himself snore. Mark Twain, 1894.”

  She laughed out loud and was still laughing when Jake Holcomb knocked on her door. The last of the cryptic messages had relieved her immensely. Mark Twain, of course. Surely there was no hidden meaning in this one. She had never snored in her life... or had she just been unable to hear herself?

  Chapter Twelve:.

  “What flavor is that?” Perry leaned down to look at Reggie Greene’s face that sported shiny pink lips and a matching chin.

  “Wallamelon,” he said trying to speak with his mouth full of ice cream.

  “Mmm, watermelon, my favorite,” Perry nodded seriously and then rubbed the boy’s head ruffling his thick red hair. It was the reddest hair Perry had ever seen and that was saying quite a lot.

  “Everybody says you saved his life, Mr. Aliger,” Bobby Greene told him when he raised his head. They were on the sidewalk in front of the Gift Shop watching the workmen across the street. The ice cream truck had just pulled away from the curb. Perry unwrapped his Snickers Ice Cream bar. “I just want to tell you how much I appreciate what you did. If there’s ever anything I can do for you... just let me know.”

  “Gratitude is not necessary,” Perry told him distractedly as he bit into the ice cream bar. He touched the caramel layer with his finger and then tasted it and nodded his approval. “It was just an unfortunate accident and I happened to be in a position to help.”

  “Well, I’m real grateful you were there,” Bobby insisted. “Ever since his mother died, I been tryin’ to keep an eye on him. My mom helps, but she can’t keep up with him. I got to work, you know. But he’s been a little easier to keep up with lately. He ain’t got a bike right now.”

  “He needs another one,” Perry told him.

  “I took ’im over to Western Auto to look at ’em the other day. I wanted to get him a new one, but he got scared and didn’t want to have anything to do with 'em.” Bobby shrugged. “I guess he’s still shook up.”

  “He needs to get back in there,” Perry said. “There’s no need for him to give up something he loves because of one mistake. Perhaps he needs some inspiration. My wife and I are having dinner party Friday night. You need to come and bring Reggie with you. I have something that might interest him. Come at five o’clock.”

  “Well, we don’t go out much...” Bobby began to protest.

  Perry reached to shake hands with him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greene. You really should come.”

  Bobby blinked at him and nodded. Perry let go of his hand.

  “OK. Sure.” Bobby looked down at Reggie. “We’ll be there.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Perry smiled at him and walked up the sidewalk toward the shop.

  Bobby rubbed his hand on his jeans absently and then looked at his palm. It tingled and there was something sticky on it. Caramel and chocolate. He glanced at Reggie and wondered where the chocolate had come from.

  Perry placed a picture perfect teapot in the center of the antique sideboard and then reached to take another tissue wrapped object from the box in front of him. A delicate teacup with no handle. Its design matched the teapot. He placed the cup next to the pot. Angelica was busy hanging crystal and porcelain wind chimes at various spots around the front door. They were both startled when someone knocked loudly on the glass panes. Angelica climbed down from the footstool and opened the door. A young woman dressed in a pink miniskirt, white blouse and a closely tailored pink jacket stood on the step.

  “Hello,” Angelica greeted the stranger and glanced back at Perry who shrugged. The blonde woman appeared to be speechless for a moment before she smiled and shifted the leather portfolio she had in her arms.

  “Hi! You must be Angelica Aliger,” she said. “I’m Maureen Fitzgerald. I represent the Payne and Litzman Insurance here in Magnolia Springs. I wanted to come by and welcome you to town and introduce myself.”

  She stuck out her right hand where an ornate silver charm bracelet jangled on her slim, well-tanned wrist. Angelica took her hand and then cast another accusatory glance at Perry.

  “Please, come inside,” Angelica told her and stepped back. Perry put down his teacups and came to stand beside Angelica. “This is my husband, Perry. Perry, Ms., or is it Miss? Fitzgerald.” She looked up at Perry. “She’s come to see us.”

  Perry took the lady’s hand and smiled. He held onto her hand a moment too long. Maureen smiled and then her cheeks reddened. Angelica gazed at her blandly. Perry raised one eyebrow. Why did they always do that? Angelica did not seem to notice the woman’s reaction.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Fitzgerald,” Perry said, but did not look at Angelica as he ushered the young woman deeper into the store. “You received my message then?”

  “Yes.” Maureen looked back at Angelica who still stood by the open door watching them. “I
believe you were interested in a... uh, business liability policy?”

  He nodded and smiled.

  “I have several different plans to choose from.” She shifted the portfolio again. “I brought some literature for you to look at.”

  “You did?” He seemed surprised. “That’s wonderful. We can discuss it over a cup of tea. Wait right here.”

  Perry went back to where Angelica stood and closed the door. “We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” he told her and went back to escort Maureen Fitzgerald to the stairs leading up to the apartment.

  “Insurance brokering must be a fascinating business,” he commented as they zigzagged through the shelves full of interesting objects. She waited as he unhooked an elaborate brass chain across the stairway which had a shiny brass plaque that read ‘NO ADMITTANCE PRIVATE QUARTERS’ in English and French. “It’s hard to believe someone as lovely as yourself would be interested in such a business. Numbers and all that. I really hate numbers. I don’t seem to have the math gene. Math was never an interest to me. It is a rare quality in ladies. I expected to see some dour-faced old man to tell you the truth.”

  Maureen followed him up the stairs craning her neck to look at the fascinating array of products on the shelves. She looked back at Angelica, but she had returned her attention to the wind chimes.

  “You know,” Perry continued. “One of those types with the goatee and spectacles.”

  “Uh, huh,” Maureen nodded. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased at his string of comments.

  Angelica climbed back on the footstool perturbed that Perry had failed to mention that he had contacted the woman. The hook she wanted to reach was a bit too high for her diminutive height. She tried to lunge the chain at the hook and missed. The glass chimes fell to the floor and crashed into a tinkling pile of sparkling destruction. She stepped off the stool and the glass crunched under sandals. A sharp pain coursed up her leg like lightning as a long shard embedded itself just under her left ankle. Angelica looked down in amazement at what she had done. Blood trickled from the puncture and ran down to the bottom of her foot. She bent to pull out the glass and looked at it in disbelief. A nasty injury. She would be forced to go upstairs and somehow the thought of going up there made her feel odd.