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ACCORDING TO ALLY, Cliff had become a regular for breakfast at Francine’s, usually showing up about nine o’clock. Gertie arrived at eight fifteen, wanting to be halfway through her meal by the time Cliff walked in. I pulled up at eight fifty and then paced outside, pretending to talk on my phone. Ally was to make sure not to seat anyone at the tables on either side of Gertie, reserving one for me and one for Cliff.
I spotted Cliff pulling into a parking space in front of Francine’s. I peered at Gertie through the plate-glass window and nodded. As Cliff got out of his car I said “goodbye” to my pretend caller and slipped my phone into my pocket.
I followed Mr. Piece of Crap inside the café.
“Well, hello pretty lady,” Cliff said as soon as he spotted Ally. Yep, he had the smooth operator down pat.
“Hey, Cliff,” Ally said. After what we had told her earlier about Cliff, I knew she wanted to grab the waffle iron and snap his face in it. Instead, she grabbed a couple of menus from the counter and nodded toward the table next to Gertie. “I’ve got a special table all set up for you.” She looked at me. “There’s a table over there for you too, Fortune.”
“Looks good,” I said.
Cliff followed her to his table. A cup of steaming coffee waited for him.
“I just poured it for you,” Ally said. “One cream and half pack of sugar just like you like it.”
“You’re spoiling me, darlin’,” Cliff said, taking a seat.
“Do you want the menu?” Ally asked. “Or do you want your usual of eggs over rice with a side of Andouille sausage?”
“I’ll go with the usual.”
Ally looked over at Gertie. “Hey, Gertie, seems you’re not the only one who likes the eggs over rice.”
Gertie glanced up from her breakfast and smiled at Cliff. “Great minds must think alike.” She looked nonchalantly down at her breakfast and resumed eating.
I took my menu from Ally and grabbed a seat at the table on the other side of Gertie.
“Another refill of coffee for you, Gertie?”
“You have to ask?”
Ally refilled her coffee, then poured some in my cup.
Gertie turned her attention to me. “How are you doing with your inventory of your great-aunt Marge’s things?”
“Oh... coming along fine.” I sipped at my coffee, tapping my fingers on the table.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just... Never mind, it can wait. You’re eating your breakfast.”
Gertie motioned me over to her table. “Come on over and sit. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I got up and sat opposite Gertie and launched into the story we had practiced. “Well...” I leaned into her, lowering my voice, but still loud enough for Cliff to hear me. “I hope you don’t mind me asking...”
“No, go ahead.”
“Well, Marge left me some money, along with a note saying I should talk to you about investing. She said you’re a whiz with money.”
“Marge was one of the few people who knew that. I don’t advertise it, not here in Sinful. I’d have everybody and their second cousin asking me for money. However, since you’re Marge’s great-niece... What do you want to know?”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Cliff leaning his ear toward us. He was taking the bait. Now we just needed to hook him.
“I was wondering if you could tell me where to put the money she left me for maximum return. I want to retire early someday.”
“How much money do you have to invest?”
“Well, Marge left me...” I lowered my voice, but it was still loud enough for Cliff, although he had to lean in a few extra inches. “She left me twenty-thousand dollars. I want to invest in exactly what you invest in.”
I noticed Cliff blinking several times. He was too slick to make his interest obvious, so blinking must be one of his uncontrollable “tells.”
Gertie cringed. “Oh honey, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, the types of funds I invest in require a minimum of one hundred thousand dollars.”
Cliff’s jaw dropped, but he quickly covered it up by taking a sip of coffee. More blinking followed.
“One hundred thousand dollars?” I shook my head. “Did you say funds? As in, more than one?”
“Several, actually.”
Did Cliff just choke on his coffee? After his fit of coughing subsided, Gertie patted my hand and continued. “For you I recommend a safe index fund.”
“I guess I won’t be able to retire early then, huh?”
“You’re young. You just keep scraping and saving, honey. You’ll get there.”
I stood and thanked her for her investment advice and sat back at my table, but not before noticing Cliff’s increased blinking. The wheels were turning in his head. It didn’t take him but thirty seconds before he spoke.
“How are you enjoying your sausage?” he asked Gertie.
He must have been thrown off his game to deliver such a stupid come-on line.
“Francine only serves the best,” Gertie said. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my name is Cliff. Cliff Dow.” He extended his hand to Gertie and they shook.
“Gertie Hebert. I know we’ve said ‘hello’ before, but it’s nice to be formally introduced.”
Ally came over carrying Cliff’s plate. “Here’s your breakfast, Cliff.”
“What the heck,” Gertie said. “I’m almost done, but why don’t you join me, Cliff?”
“Well, don’t mind if I do.” Cliff gathered his coffee and place setting and took a seat across from Gertie as Ally winked and set Cliff’s breakfast in front of him. She left to pour coffee at another table. Cliff smiled at Gertie. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but... that blouse brings out the color in your eyes.”
“Oh well, thank you.”
“I’m sorry... I couldn’t help but overhear your investment advice.”
Gertie drew her hand up over her mouth, her eyes widening. “Oh my, I didn’t really mean for anyone to overhear that.”
Cliff held his hand up. “It’s okay. I won’t tell a soul. I invest in numerous exclusive funds myself, so I understand wanting to keep your financial business to yourself.”
Gertie nodded. “Most people in Sinful live modestly. I don’t want anyone to think I’m putting on airs. That’s why I drive around town in that old Cadillac. I rent a hangar at the Louis Armstrong Airport for my other cars. My classic ‘67 Stingray, my Maserati... my Bentley.”
“A Bentley?” Did his voice just go up a couple octaves? He sipped his coffee, then nodded. “My Rolls is currently being repainted because some nitwit took a nail to it.”
“How awful.”
“Hmm hmm. So I get it. Some people are just jealous over other people’s success. You’re wise to only share with those you trust.”
Gertie nodded, sneaking a glance at her watch. “I really should be running along.”
“Oh.” Cliff looked crushed. Good. We didn’t want to make it too easy for him.
Gertie called to Ally. “Ally, dear, I’ll take my check now.”
Ally rushed over with the bill and held it out to Gertie. Before Gertie could take it, Cliff grabbed it. “No, please, allow me.”
“I can’t let you do that, Cliff. Besides, I was also going to pick up Fortune’s breakfast.”
“No problem,” Cliff said. He looked at Ally. “Put the young lady’s breakfast on my bill as well.”
“And I was also going to take a to-go breakfast back to my friend, Ida Belle.”
Don’t push it, Gertie.
“Oh...” Cliff blinked.
“It’s too much for you to pay.”
Cliff smiled. “No, of course not.” He looked at Ally. “Put all three breakfasts on my bill, then.”
Gertie patted his hand. “You are certainly a generous man. And don’t worry about Ally’s tip. I’ve got that.”
“No, no, I’ll get that too.”
“I can’t let you do that Cliff. I tip her extra special on Wednesdays. Twenty dollars is too much for you to spend.”
“Twenty dollars?” he croaked. His face was turning a bit ashen. “No, no. I can cover that.”
“Well, you are certainly a man after my own heart.” Gertie stood from her chair. “It was so nice spending time with you.”
Gertie started off and Cliff called after her. “There’s a dance at the senior center this Saturday night. I hope to see you there.”
“I might just do that,” she said before plucking a to-go bag of Ida Belle’s food from the counter. Before leaving, she looked back at Cliff. “I’m sure we’ll run into one another again before then.” Because she was going to make sure of it.
“I’ll take care of that bill now,” Ally said. “The total comes to forty-six dollars and sixty-seven cents.”
Cliff sighed and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and counted out the money for her.
Ally cleared her throat. He sighed again and opened his wallet, pulling out a twenty. “And here’s your tip.”
“Thank you,” Ally said, beaming. “That Gertie is so generous.”
We pulled our first scam. Now on to round two.
* * * * *
WHILE IDA BELLE AND I spent the next few days tracking down more of Cliff’s victims, Gertie spent the days leading up to the Saturday dance “accidentally” running into Cliff and becoming better acquainted. Of course, these chance meetings were no accidents. Several Sinful Ladies had fanned out around town, sending “Cliff alerts” to Gertie when they spotted him.
If only I had “Carter alerts” so I’d know where NOT to go.
It was Saturday morning and I had just enough time to run a few miles and take a shower before heading over to Gertie’s house for breakfast and our pre-dance prep work. My route took me through Downtown Sinful, then down Fortier Road, which was lined with some of the most gnarled oak trees I’d ever seen. It was time to head back to my house, so I turned right on Second Street, just past the senior center.
And ran right into Carter.
Literally.
He was performing hamstring stretches against the west wall of the center and I didn’t have time to stop. My right foot caught his left leg. I heard a high-pitched, girly scream and realized it was coming from me as I crashed headfirst into an azalea bush.
“Oh God,” he said, kneeling down beside me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” I pulled myself onto my knees.
The concern on his face turned to amusement as he tried hard not to let his quivering bottom lip turn into a snicker.
“I’m glad you find this funny.”
“Sorry. But you have one of those cartoon screams.”
“I wasn’t screaming.”
“Sounded like a scream.”
“It was a ‘whoa’ sound.”
“Uh, you can call it what you like, but it sounded a little Sponge Bobbish.”
He placed his hands around my waist to help me up, but I shooed them away. “I can get up by myself, thanks.”
I stood and swatted the leaves out of my hair and off my T-shirt. He reached over and brushed some dirt from my arm, before sweeping off my butt.
“I didn’t land on my butt. Hence, no help necessary.” Though, I had to admit, his ‘help’ made me want to slam him against the wall, lock my lips with his and have my way with him.
He held up his hands. “Sorry. This... change between us... sometimes I forget...”
“Yeah. Me too.”
My phone signaled a text had just come in. It was from Gertie.
Stop and pick up some bacon on your way over.
“It’s Gertie. I’m supposed to be over there in a half hour. So...”
“You gotta go.”
I nodded.
“Sure... See you around, then.”
I started walking away.
“Don’t let those two get you in trouble.”
I nodded again, waved and ran home. And blinked away something from my eyes that may have resembled tears. They couldn’t have been tears, though. My father taught me not to cry, so I very rarely did it. In fact, I’d lived twenty tearless years between crying when my mother died when I was eight, and then sobbing just a few days ago when Carter called off our budding romantic relationship. Both times I ached all over, that’s how unfamiliar my body was at processing sad emotions. CIA assassins aren’t known for allowing ourselves to feel. The only thing my father and I had in common.
As I ran past the Sinful Motel, I spotted the woman Carter said was from FEMA. She was leaning back in a plastic chair in front of her room, sipping a cup of coffee and puffing away on a cigarette. I could feel her eyes following me as I ran past her. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The thing about the hairs on the back of my neck? They’re a lot like cats: an early-warning system.