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The following day, Ida Belle, Gertie, and I sat in the corner booth at Francine’s, the very same booth where Victor, Bessie, and I spoke to the ADA. I saw Gertie looking at her watch.
“It’s about five minutes before noon,” she said. “Are you sure Celia was planning to be here for lunch?”
“That’s what Ally told me,” I replied. “She would know—she is Celia’s niece, after all.”
“And Celia has no idea we are here?” Ida Belle asked.
“Not as far as I know,” I replied. “I asked Ally not to say anything and I trust her.”
Ida Belle nodded calmly and took a sip of tea.
“So, Victor really agreed to your plan?” I questioned.
Ida Belle nodded, “He thought it was a stroke of brilliance. Only time will tell if that’s the case.”
“Here she comes,” Gertie said. “Put your game face on.”
Celia walked through the door, heading straight to the counter. She spotted us almost immediately. All three of us began our performances, which began with forming positively dour expressions while appearing to not notice she was there. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Celia looking at us. She was undoubtedly wondering why we looked so glum. For a moment, I thought she was going to simply turn away, but instead, she looked back and finally walked toward us.
“What are you three looking so down about?” she asked.
Gertie looked up. Instead of making a snappy comeback or a snarky remark, which would have been normal for Gertie in this situation, she merely said, in a downtrodden voice, “Oh, hi Celia. We’re just thinking about some bad news we received.”
Ida Belle sighed, “Yes, awful news.”
“Awful news, huh?” Celia said, a smug look appearing on her face. “A little birdie told me there might have been a breakthrough in the Gus Procter case. Guess it’s not all going according to plan, huh?”
Celia was unable to suppress a self-gratifying smile and an inappropriate low chuckle. It made me want to slap her face. I was more worried about Gertie’s reaction, however. They’d already been in more than one physical altercation. I could only imagine what was going through Gertie’s mind. It was way too early in the day to see Gertie’s camo underwear if she decided to moon Celia once again.
“Yes, you’re right,” Ida Belle said, jumping in before Gertie had a chance to respond. “It’s looking like Mr. Proctor may not get prosecuted after all.”
“Oh really?” Celia replied in a transparent attempt to show surprise.
“And that’s ridiculous,” Gertie scoffed. “Gus Proctor murdered Emma Peterson and everyone in this town knows it. Now there may be a technicality that allows him to go free.”
“Well, maybe it wouldn’t have been that way if certain people had a little respect for the proper process regarding the law,” Celia replied, glaring in my direction.
The glare quickly faded when no one responded. Her expression transformed from gloating to one of curiosity, “What happened?” she asked.
Ida Belle sighed and shook her head, “An anonymous witness apparently came forward and claimed to have seen something. We don’t know who the witness was or what might have been seen. From what we are hearing, this new witness has testimony that could actually enable Gus Proctor to walk away, scot free.”
“Victor Bloom took the news badly. He is quite disappointed and angry,” Gertie said.
“Well, I can’t tell you that I care even a little if he’s angry or hurt,” Celia said. “That old son of a . . .”
“But Emma’s killer will go free,” Gertie interrupted.
“And the town will suffer in the process,” Ida Belle added. “All those wonderful plans he had . . . all down the tubes.”
Celia paused, “The town will suffer? What plans are you talking about . . . going down the tubes?”
“This whole thing has caused Victor to pull the funding for the proposed Center for Performing Arts. This town is going to be devastated when they find out the funding was pulled.”
Celia’s smile disappeared, “I don’t understand what one thing really has to do with another,” she said. “Why would he punish the town?”
“That’s a good question, Celia,” Ida Belle said. “None of us know. He won’t talk to any of us, not even Fortune.”
“Really,” she said, suddenly becoming very interested.
“It’s all such a shame,” Gertie said. “Victor had such big plans, too. Those plans even involved you, Celia. I can only imagine how disappointed you must be.”
“What do you mean, his plans involved me?” she said, her ears fully perked.
“You know . . . the plans,” Ida Belle replied, with a feigned look of shock on her face that nearly made me smile.
“No, I don’t,” Celia said.
“She doesn’t know,” Gertie feigned.
“Oh, sure she does,” Ida Belle feigned in return.
“No, I don’t,” Celia said. “Please, tell me.”
“Victor just hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet, I guess,” Gertie said.
“I suppose,” I added.
“Doesn’t make any difference now, anyway,” Ida Belle remarked.
“What? What doesn’t make a difference?” Celia asked, nearly pleading. “What did Victor say?”
Ida Belle sighed and looked at Gertie, who shook her head and shrugged, “Might as well tell her,” Gertie said.
“Oh, alright. Have a seat, Celia,” Ida Belle said. “We might as well let you in on it, even though it won’t come to pass, now.”
Celia sat down and leaned in, “I’m sitting. Tell me,” she insisted.
Ida Belle looked around the restaurant, as if checking for spies. Finally, she turned back to Celia, “Well, as it turns out, Victor and Bessie were planning on moving back to Vermont next week.”
Celia nodded, “So?”
“So, they were going to appoint someone locally as a liaison to keep them informed about the progress made to the new performing arts building,” Ida Belle continued. “I think the job title was . . . uh . . . help me out, here, Gertie.”
“Public Relations Manager,” she said.
“Yes, that’s it,” Ida Belle affirmed.
“Oh, my goodness, really?” Celia said, her mouth now agape.
“Yes, really,” Ida Belle confirmed. “This person was going to be the . . . I don’t know how to explain it, the public face for the project. You know, coordinate all the communication to the media, send out public notices, conduct press conferences, maintain public awareness, things like that.”
“And to help with the scheduling and the planning of events,” Gertie added, “particularly the grand opening. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh yes,” Ida Belle said. “I almost forgot all the event planning and scheduling.”
“Oh, dear me,” she said, her eyes widening. “That sounds huge.”
Celia looked around the dining room herself and then leaned in further, “What does it have to do with me?”
“You?” Ida Belle said.
“Yes. You said the plans involved me.”
“Oh yes, it’s true. Victor thought you might be the best person for that job,” Ida Belle said.
“Me? Are you certain?”
Celia gasped and fell back into her chair, covering her mouth to suppress a squelch. She looked around the dining room again to see if she had attracted any attention.
“I felt so bad for you Celia,” I said, finally jumping in. “This role would have been so perfect for you.”
“Yes,” Gertie agreed, “The job description was practically written with you in mind.”
Ida Belle flashed Gertie a disapproving look. Fortunately, Celia didn’t catch it.
“That can’t be right,” she replied. “Victor hates me.”
“Hates you?” Ida Belle repeated, “Oh, heavens no, what made you think that?”
“You should have heard the way he spoke to me the day he arrived. Fortune was there. She can tell you.”
I smiled and shook my head, dismissively, “Well, I thought that too, at first,” I said, “but I came to realize, he treats everyone that way, even his own sister, and he loves her. You heard the way he talked to Bessie, didn’t you?”
Celia’s eyes widened again as she thought about what I’d said, “Yes, I did, now that you mention it.”
“And he talked the same way to me,” I said.
“It’s a British thing,” Ida Belle said. “You know, all the banter. You’ve seen Monty Python, Celia, right?”
“I think so. Mr. Bean is in that, right?”
“Sure,” Ida Belle said, rolling her eyes.
Gertie leaned forward, “You know, Celia, you and I have had our major differences, but I have to say, when I heard about the PR position, I had to admit, I couldn’t think of anyone in Sinful more qualified to do the job.”
“Well, that is true. I am extremely good with public relations—one might even say . . . outstanding.”
“One might say . . . something like that, yeah,” Gertie replied, a slight edge in her voice breaking through.
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I said, forcing back the urge to vomit.
“But after what has occurred, it’s all off now,” Ida Belle said, pulling Celia back down to earth. “The Center for the Performing Arts is never going to be built.”
Celia gasped again. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“No.”
“I’d love to find out who went to the DA and caused all this trouble,” Gertie scowled. “If I ever do find out who this anonymous person is, I’ll make sure every man, woman and child in Sinful knew who it was that allowed Emma’s murderer to go free and cost this town a performing arts center. That person will never be able to show their rotten face in town again, and it would be justified. Don’t you agree, Celia?”
Celia’s face reddened, “Why . . . I . . . uh . . .”
“I think that’s something we can all agree on,” Ida Bella jumped in. I nodded in agreement as well.
I could almost hear the wheels turning in Celia’s head as thoughts began racing through her mind.
“You know, I was thinking . . .” Celia began, right on cue.
“I thought I smelled smoke,” Gertie interrupted, chuckling.
“Shush, Gertie,” Ida Belle said. “Let Celia finish.” She turned back to her, “Go on, dear.”
“I was thinking, maybe the information that made its way to the DA’s office was a . . . you know, a . . . mistake,” she said, her voice trailing off.
Ida Belle’s face tightened in feigned surprise, “What? A mistake? Celia, do you know something?”
“Well, as you know, I do have some influence in this town and I do hear things through the grapevine.”
“Yes, we know,” Ida Belle said. “What are your little birdies telling you about this situation?”
We all leaned forward at once.
“Well, what I’m hearing through a friend of a friend who knows someone, of course . . .”
“Of course,” Ida Belle said.
“What I’m hearing is, that this anonymous witness may have been . . . mistaken about what she saw and reported.”
“You said ‘she,’” Ida Belle noted. “It was a woman?”
“Oh, I’m not certain, really,” Celia said, backpedaling. “I guess I was assuming so, yes . . . I mean, I wouldn’t actually know for certain . . .”
“Of course not. Go on,” Ida Belle said.
“Well . . . as I was saying . . . I heard that the person who had reported information about what she allegedly saw from a great distance . . . may be having some second thoughts about whether she actually saw what she thought she saw. She has been having some trouble with her vision and is behind on her visit to the eye doctor . . . uh, or so I was told.”
“Wow! That’s huge. Do you think this person is going to recant?” Gertie asked.
“Well, I certainly think it’s possible.”
“Hallelujah!” Gertie said, raising her arms in celebration. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“I mean, she should recant . . . if she wasn’t certain, right?” Celia said. “None of us want to see a killer go free.”
“You’re so right,” Ida Belle said.
Celia reached behind her and used her fingers to nervously play with her hair. She cleared her throat, “So, tell me . . . if that actually happened—I mean, if the witness recanted—do you think Victor and Bessie would reconsider going forward with the Center for Performing Arts?”
“Fortune knows Victor better than any of us,” Gertie said, looking in my direction. “What do you think?”
“I think Victor and Bessie would both be tremendously pleased,” I responded. “If Gus Proctor’s bail is denied and he ends up getting convicted, I do believe that they would proceed with the Center for Performing Arts as originally planned.”
Celia beamed, “Do you think they would still like to have me as their PR Manager?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said, wondering if lightning would strike me dead.
“They love you, Fortune,” Celia said. “You know I’m perfect for that job, too. I mean, I’d have your recommendation as well, right?
I bit my lip and felt myself ready to start choking. I forced a smile but was unable to actually speak. With my lips pinched together, all I could do was squeak out a meek, “Um hmm.”
Celia wrinkled her forehead and looked at Ida Belle, “Did she say . . . yes?”
Ida Belle nodded, “She said yes.”
“That’s fantastic news,” Celia said. “I have to go, now.”
“Where are you going?” Gertie asked.
“Oh . . . I have to check in with my sources, so I can . . . find out . . . stuff.”
Ida Belle smiled, “Thanks, Celia. See you soon.”
“Bye, Celia,” Gertie added, forcing a smile.
Ida Belle looked at me and smiled. Gertie was grinning from ear to ear. I smiled too, but in the back of my mind, I wondered if I would ever be able to sleep again.