Fortune Furlough

by Jana DeLeon

  I nodded. It would be worth the hassle just to get her to stop flapping and saying Oh. My. God.

  I pulled a chair from a nearby table and hopped on it to get an aerial view of the situation and consider my options. Gertie and Flamingo Lady had run up the middle row of the restaurant tables again and had turned around and were headed back my direction. Simple, I thought. When they passed, I’d simply nab Flamingo Lady.

  I frowned. Or maybe I wouldn’t. As sure as I did, she’d have grounds to press charges against me for assault. I no longer had the CIA to back me up on my actions. Everything I did would be viewed with me as an average citizen and I would be held to the same behavioral standards. Tackling old ladies—even if it was done carefully and even if they were sporting a weapon, of sorts—would probably not be taken well.

  I heard yelling down the hall and figured someone had alerted management to the crisis. If I was going to save the hostess and her boobs from an awful future, I had to act fast. I jumped off the chair, reached for the tablecloth on an empty table, and yanked it off. Then I gripped opposite ends of it and flipped it over a bit to make it smaller in width and jumped back onto the chair. I’d barely gotten set up when Gertie ran past me.

  “Do something!” she yelled. “Before I really do kill someone!”

  Flamingo Lady was starting to lag, but I didn’t think for a minute she was ready to give up. And Gertie had already run longer than I’d figured she could. Her face was red from the effort.

  As Flamingo Lady passed, I jumped off the chair, draping the tablecloth around her, effectively roping her with linens. I got in a secure stance and heard an “oof” as Flamingo Lady ran into the last bit of slack in the tablecloth. Before she could attempt to wrangle out, I crossed the cloth and tightened it, wrapping her up as though she were wearing a straitjacket.

  Unfortunately, she’d managed to get the arm with the flamingo free before I tightened, and the combination of her forward momentum and her sudden stop caused her to lose her grip on the plastic decoration.

  The pink bird went tumbling through the air and hit Gertie right in the back of the head. Given her general lack of physical conditioning and the fact that she’d just spent several minutes being chased by a crazy woman wielding a plastic bird, it wasn’t a surprise when she lost control. She lurched forward at impact and her already-tired legs buckled. She threw her arms out in front of her, trying to regain her balance, but there was no stopping that moving train.

  She slid right onto the buffet table like a drunken college kid at a frat party, her outstretched arms flinging containers of food in all directions. Women started screaming as shrimp, fish, cocktail sauce, rice, and a host of other dishes became part of their dinner wear. I pulled Flamingo Lady into the chair I’d used for my roping event and deftly tied her in place. Gertie finally slid to a stop in the middle of the buffet line and rolled off the table with a groan. Her legs were wobbling, but at least she was standing.

  A second later, a harried-looking man wearing black slacks and a button-up shirt skidded to a stop beside me. His expression was a combination of “What the hell happened here?” and “How can I be sued for it?” I figured he must be the resort manager.

  He looked over at the distraught hostess. “What in the world is going on?” he asked.

  The hostess lifted a menu in front of her chest—probably a subconscious move—and paled. “I don’t know,” she managed. “There was yelling and when I looked, that woman,” she pointed at Flamingo Lady, “was chasing another one, trying to hit her with the flamingo from the table decoration.”

  The manager stared at her for a second, clearly trying to process what must have been a fairly absurd explanation, even for a vacation resort. Then he looked over at Flamingo Lady and froze when he realized she was tied to a chair with table linen. She was attempting to free herself but couldn’t reach the back knot.

  I figured that was my cue so I stepped forward. “I arrived at the restaurant right after the commotion started. It’s just as the young lady stated. This woman was chasing another with the apparent thought of using the flamingo as a weapon.”

  “And how did she manage to tie herself to the chair?” he asked.

  “Oh, I did that,” I said. “I didn’t figure it was a good idea to tackle an old lady, but I was afraid other people were going to be hurt if she kept running like a crazy person. So I lassoed her with the tablecloth and tied her up so she couldn’t go for round two.”

  “Who are you calling old?” Flamingo Lady yelled.

  “I think age is the least of your problems,” I said.

  The manager still looked slightly confused but was clearly moving past surprised to angry. “Someone is going to pay for this damage,” he said.

  “Well, it’s not going to be me,” Flamingo Lady argued. “It’s all her fault.” She pointed at Gertie, who was limping in our direction, wearing the remnants of most of the buffet. The manager glanced over and did a double take.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked. “Do you need medical attention?”

  “No,” Gertie said. “But I’ll probably need to shower in bleach or I’ll smell like shrimp for the next fifty years.”

  “I’m not footing the bill for that floozy,” Flamingo Lady ranted. “She’s lucky I’m tied up or I’d finish giving her what she has coming.”

  “What did this woman do to you?” the manager asked.

  “She stole my man!” Flamingo Lady screamed, and she wriggled in the tablecloth.

  And finally, it all clicked. Pink Plastic Weapon Woman must have been one of Otis’s targets, and she’d seen him with Gertie the night before. I shook my head. For someone who made a living scamming, Otis should have been smart enough to target women in different resorts. Or at least avoid taking a second target to dinner at the resort when he already had a first target on the line. But then, greed was often the downfall of the criminal sort.

  “He was not your man,” Gertie said. “I don’t see a ring on your finger and there sure as heck wasn’t one on his. If you had a problem with Otis, you should have taken it up with him…or maybe you did.”

  Gertie narrowed her eyes at Flamingo Lady, who began to gasp and sputter.

  “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with Otis’s death?” the enraged woman asked. “I could never kill someone.”

  “You could have tonight,” I said. “All it would have taken was for someone to fall on a steak knife or break their neck or crash into one of those vacationers with an oxygen tank. You’re certainly mad enough to kill someone. And you’re clearly delusional enough to think it would improve your situation.”

  Flamingo Lady turned beet red and thrashed in the tablecloth so hard that the chair started to rock. She was yelling so loud and fast that most of what she said was unintelligible, except for the occasional curse word. Finally, the chair reached tipping point and flipped on its side, slamming her into the ground.

  “I want that woman arrested for assault,” Flamingo Lady yelled from the floor. “And I’m suing this resort.”

  The manager froze. The hostess dropped the menu and slunk back behind a plant.

  Ida Belle stepped up to the manager and waved her phone. “Please do call the police. I filmed the entire thing. The only person who needs some jail time is the crazy woman in the tablecloth. And I’m happy to provide a copy for the resort’s attorney for when you sue for damages.”

  The manager stared at Ida Belle, completely silent, and I could tell he was attempting to process the odds of the lawsuit lottery. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll call the police now,” he said. “They’re going to want to talk to all of you, so if you could just make yourselves comfortable.”

  “Do I look like comfort is achievable?” Gertie asked as a glob of cocktail sauce slid off the top of her head and down her nose.

  The manager whirled around and spotted the hostess behind the plant. “Get this woman some warm, wet towels and some dry ones.”

  The hostess
made a sound like baby birds do when they’re hungry, then scurried off in the direction of the kitchen.

  “What about me?” Flamingo Lady asked, a bit more subdued now that the police were being called. “Are you just going to leave me down here?”

  I looked over at the manager and shrugged. “I’m okay with it, but I suppose that’s your call.”

  He gave me a pained look. “I suppose we should upright her, but I’m inclined to leave her…um, incapacitated, until the police arrive.”

  “Good call,” I said as I reached over and pulled the chair upright.

  The manager blinked, apparently surprised that I’d so easily lifted the chair and woman, and he gave me a hard look, probably trying to figure out exactly what kind of woman had tablecloth wrangling skills and the ability to lift close to her own body weight without straining. I had a feeling he came up short on the answer.

  The manager waved me over to the restaurant entry and extended his hand. “I’m Fletcher Sampson, the resort manager.”

  “Fortune Redding,” I said as I clasped his hand.

  His eyes widened and I knew he recognized the name.

  “Yep,” I said. “The same Fortune Redding rooming with the woman Deputy Benton was hunting for today. She’s the one wearing your buffet.” I pointed at Gertie, who was dripping on the carpet.

  Ida Belle stepped up beside me and I nodded my head toward her. “The lady with the video is my other roomie.”

  “I…oh my.” He looked slightly ill. “I’ve only been here three months and until now, no trouble. But this week, the wheels seem to have come off. The owner flew in today and I met with him this afternoon. He’s already very upset over the, er, situation we currently have. When he hears the police had to come out again, I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

  “Are you afraid you’ll lose your job?” I asked.

  “What?” He jerked a bit, then stared at me, as if trying to catch up to the conversation. “Yes. It’s definitely a concern.”

  “One of the locals told me you guys were friends. That you get to take his yacht out. Surely he wouldn’t fire you over this or the other situation? Neither is your fault.”

  “I…we know each from another resort he has in the Keys where I was an assistant manager. He recruited me from there to work for him here. I’d say we’re friendly but not friends. I don’t have the economic status to call someone of his caliber a friend.”

  “I saw the boat today when we were fishing,” I said. “That’s a heck of a loaner for someone just being friendly.”

  He gave me a small smile. “I’m afraid that’s simply more work, although it’s not much of a hardship. He needs someone to look after his boat. My father was a harbormaster at a marina, so I grew up around boats and know how to handle them properly. I do him the favor of making sure his boat is always ready for him to use and in return, I get to spend time on an excellent vessel.”

  “That’s a good deal,” Ida Belle said. “I wonder if I can make friends with a rich guy who owns a Formula 1 team. I’d give my right foot to drive one of those cars. Well, maybe not my right one as I’d need it, but you know what I mean.”

  “My dream is flying an F-16,” I said.

  “Do you even know how to fly a plane?” Ida Belle asked.

  I shook my head. “That’s why it’s a dream.”

  The hostess returned with a stack of towels, dry and wet, and Gertie began going about the business of attempting to remove the food from her face and head.

  “I don’t suppose you have any cheesecake left?” I asked. “All this security work has made me hungry.”

  Fletcher stared at me a moment, attempting to process my out-of-left-field request.

  “I, uh, sure,” he said as he waved at a server. “Please get this woman a slice of cheesecake and whatever else her party needs.”

  The silence that had eclipsed the restaurant while we’d been arguing had disappeared and was slowly being replaced by grumbling. Fletcher jolted out of his stupor and stepped back into the restaurant, waving his hands in the air.

  “Everyone,” he announced to the curious dining patrons, “I am so sorry for the disruption to your dinner. It will be comped, of course, and your servers will be happy to assist you with anything you need to complete your meal.” He glanced over at the mangled buffet. “Assuming what you want is still available.”

  A few of the women sat back down, clearly not about to let a free meal go to waste, even though there wasn’t much left of it. The rest mumbled among themselves and started moving toward the exit.

  Ida Belle elbowed the manager. “You should get a list of names for the police and for your attorney.”

  “Yes, of course!” He spun around and hurried off in an attempt to get ahead of the vacating crowd.

  Gertie had finally finished getting what food she could off of her body and clothes, and I motioned toward the coffee bar. She gave me a nod and limped off. I headed over to a table near Flamingo Lady and took a seat, Ida Belle in tow.

  “This is not going to play out well with Benton,” Ida Belle said.

  I shrugged. “Can’t do anything about it now. Besides, you have video and Gertie has an attorney.”

  Ida Belle nodded and sat back in her chair, looking at her phone. I could tell by her grin that she was watching the Great Flamingo Chase all over again.

  I pulled my chair closer to Flamingo Lady, who was still glaring at me. “So,” I said. “You did all this damage over a man? That’s foolish. If he was stepping out on you already, doesn’t seem like he’d be worth the trouble.”

  Flamingo Lady stiffened. “He was not stepping out on me. That floozy propositioned him. You know how weak men are.”

  I nodded. “So you’re saying that despite the fact that he was all in for you, he was easily swayed by the wiles of another woman. Yeah, I’m still not getting why he’s worth assault and property damage charges, but I guess we all have different standards.”

  “I didn’t assault anyone,” Flamingo Lady said.

  “That table decoration might beg to differ,” Ida Belle said.

  “So here’s the deal,” I said. “If this guy is the center of all this trouble, why not just call him down here to face the music? Make him explain himself. Seems like the simple, nonviolent way to settle this.”

  The anger faded from Flamingo Lady’s face and was replaced with sadness and regret. “I can’t. He died this morning. You probably heard about it.”

  “That guy?” I asked. “Wow. Yeah, I guess getting a straight answer out of him now isn’t going to happen.”

  “Wasn’t going to happen when he was alive,” Ida Belle said.

  “What do you know?” Flamingo Lady asked. “You didn’t know Otis. He was the kindest, sweetest man. He was always trying to take care of people. That must have been why he took that floozy to dinner. He felt sorry for her.”

  Ida Belle rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s it.”

  I leaned toward the woman. “Look. I’m not trying to crap on your memories or anything, but word around the resort was that guy liked to borrow money from women, then never got around to repaying it. Maybe that’s why he was out with the floozy. He’d tapped you out and needed to find another target.”

  Her face flushed as she dropped her eyes to the floor, and I knew I’d nailed it.

  “How much did you give him?” I asked.

  “I didn’t give him anything,” she said. “I made an investment in a business venture. It was going to pay big dividends. I saw all the paperwork.”

  “Maybe he didn’t include the page where he was looking for more investors,” I said.

  Uncertainly wavered in her eyes and finally she sighed. “You really think it was all a lie?”

  I nodded. “According to the local bar gossip, you’re not the first woman he’s gotten money from.”

  “But you’ll be the last,” Ida Belle said.

  Flamingo Lady didn’t look remotely placated.

 
“Do you think the cops can get my money back?” she asked.

  I frowned. “I doubt it, but you can ask. You realize that this stunt you pulled is also going to get you placed on the suspect list, right?”

  “What?” Her eyes widened and she paled. “I didn’t…I couldn’t…I would have hit the floozy with the flamingo, I’ll admit that. And I did hit her in the head with half a sheet cake, but there’s no way I could kill someone.”

  “That might be the case,” I said. “But given the circumstances, you see where the police might feel differently, right?”

  Suddenly everything I was saying clicked and she started to sway.

  “She’s going to pass out,” I said.

  “Let her,” Ida Belle said. “I was tired of hearing her yap anyway. This murder thing is really putting a cramp in our relaxation. We should be sitting on the balcony, drinking ourselves into a stupor, and eating a pile of sugary goodness right now.”

  Flamingo Lady’s head made a big circle before her chin came to rest on her chest.

  I looked over at Ida Belle. “There’s probably still some sheet cake left in Gertie’s hair.”

  Chapter Twelve

  When Benton walked into the restaurant and caught sight of Gertie, he scowled. “I should have known you’d be in trouble before nightfall,” he said. “You’re one of those people. A chronic problem. You may have some people fooled with that silver hair and nice old lady face, but I know what you are.”

  “Old lady face?” Gertie looked outraged. “Says the deputy who’s so afraid of water he almost drowned in three feet of it. You probably have a urinal in your house because the toilet gives you the vapors.”

  “You’re afraid of water?” Fletcher asked. “You work on an island.”

  “I’m not afraid of water!” Benton yelled. “Now, if you’ll just move aside and let me arrest this woman, we can all get on with our lives.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Fletcher said. “This woman is the victim, not the perpetrator. The woman passed out in the tablecloth attempted to assault her with a flamingo and during that event, most of my buffet was destroyed.”