CHAPTER 242: A Career In Retail

 

"...and in world news the French President, Charles DeGaulle, concluded his world tour by visiting French Polynesia, which belongs to France..."

Barbara and Jeremy were having their breakfasts whilst watching the morning news on TV.  There was the image of a grey haired DeGaulle walking around a tropical island, pointing at this and shaking hands with various local officials.  France had a few islands in their possession in the Pacific, with New Caledonia and Tahiti being the most promient.  Jeremy noted just how tall DeGaulle was as he seemed to tower over everyone else.

"How old is that guy?" asked Jeremy.  "My dad spoke about him when talking about World War 2 and he was already a general."

"Mid to late 70s, I think" Barbara replied.

"You're not sure?  I thought you were French!" 

"I'm FRENCH-CANADIAN with the emphasis on 'Canadian'.  He's not my president, although my Uncle Pierre would like him to be."

"...the President also witnessed the testing of France's latest atomic bomb at the Mururoa Atoll."

Both Jeremy and Barbara then saw a massive nuclear explosion on the TV screen and an image of DeGaulle, surrounded by military figures, wearing a radiation suit.

"Well...that's one way to end a world tour" mused Barbara.  "Anyway, time to get dressed..." she added.

"I'm really looking forward to today..." said Barbara, who hadn't stopped talking since they turned the TV off.  She was pumped up after breakfast and her morning run and ideas and thoughts were flowing from her.  Jeremy mostly nodded and said "yes".

"...I know we've taken a big risk in backing a new designer but Poppy is a really out there label and I think their latest collection is going to be a hit with the young and trendy crowd." she said.

"Are there that many young and trendy in this town?" asked Jeremy.

"Absolutely, Jeremy.  I keep my ear close to the ground and know the teenagers and student types in Sim City pretty well.  They're all crying out for those European style fashions and we're the only boutique in town supplying anything like that.  But there's risk with the Poppy collection:  It's slightly more expensive than most ready to wear items, there's no menswear range to go with it and...well...the more straight laced won't like it, especially that League of Decency."

"We'll see by the end of the week what the receipts are...speaking of which..." Jeremy replied, pointing to the small office he had in the next room.  He left the bedroom and went into the study whilst Barbara got dressed.

He got to work going over the accounts and was going to write up a financial statement for the month's business when he noticed that they had gone into the red with the new line of clothing.  Deep down he thought Barbara's fashion hunch was going to backfire:  After all, the hype of the mini skirt, the total look and the Mod culture was bound to burst at some point.  It might be different in Europe or Canada but America might about to lurch back the more conservative Eisenhower days; the time when he was a boy and young teenager and which had left an impression on him.

Barbara had finished getting dressed and entered the study.  When Jeremy looked in her direction he saw that she looked anything but conservative.  Her striking pink and lilac outfit and white boots were the height of the current fashion and she had leaned completely into the new trends and why not?  She was young and beautiful but was she the present, the future or already the past, he thought.

"There's my businessman...how's it looking?" she asked, sitting down in the study's more comfortable chair.

"Like we discussed...we've taken a risk.  We're slightly in the red this month." he said, matter of factly.

Barbara shrugged her shoulders.  "I still believe we'll have a hit on our hands.  But isn't risk part of running a small business?" she said.

"It is...but as I've always worked for large businesses a single shop is a bit out of my zone." Jeremy replied.  "I've always been the nervous one out of us so forgive me if I sound more pessimistic."

"You're also the brave one, Jeremy.  Be straight with me; are you happy co-owning the boutique with me and being an independent businessman?"

"Wow...that's...erm...a question!  It's hard to put into words...when I lost my job at Landgraab I felt relieved.  I thought about asking for my old job with J.J. Gotcha again but I wanted to try something different.  I know precious little about fashion and only slightly more about running a business but...yeah...it's been rewarding these last few weeks.  I like being with you all day, that's for sure."

"I love having you by my side" Barbara replied.  "I'm not just being hopelessly naive about the boutique...we've had good word of mouth, trade has been decent and we got that ringing endorsement from Jean Shrimpton herself!  I know you don't know who she is..."

"Some kind of English model, I think"

"Yeah, she's a huge name in fashion.  The first woman to wear a miniskirt in public!  What she wears people copy and she came to our little shop, bought some items and told people about us.  That's what inspired me to go further with the mod fashions.  We got free publicity that day.  If we succeed then that's great, if it fails then it was all part of the adventure."

"I love your infectious enthusiasm, Babs.  It's just that I've been thinking of a house move for us and...well...other things which will...erm...improve our lives going forwards...with the whole...you know...settling down thing and...uhm...making things official with room to expand our...unit...I was thinking next Spring..."

"Have you got a diamond ring to go with that speech?" joked Barbara.

"Oh no!  This isn't an official....I mean, I want to make it official but consider this a placeholder proposal for now..."

"It's time to go to work, Jeremy"

The two of them would typically arrive at the boutique at 8am, in time to give the place a polish and to restock and redress the mannequins.  Barbara gladly accepted the help of Jeremy in getting the shop ready because it was exhausting when she had to do it on her own and their one shop assistant, Toni, could only arrive at 10 minutes before opening time because of how far away she lived.

Jeremy was poking at his belly with his index finger and Barbara paused from polishing the counter top to find out what he was doing.

"What....may I ask...are you doing to yourself?" she asked.

"This suit is a terrible fit and my belly is overhanging my belt just slightly.  I think I've piled on the pounds." he replied.

"I have a better one in your style out the back...you can wear that if it would be more comfortable" she responded, trying to be helpful.

"I'll take you up on that.  Meanwhile have I got time to have a quick jog around the block to work this off?  I usually find a bit of exercise helps fight the flab."

"OK, Toni's due any minute now and if it gives you piece of mind then go for it."

As Jeremy went for his run, Barbara went to put some music on for the shop and prepared for the 9am opening.

No sooner had Toni arrived and the sign on the door flipped from "closed" to "open" than the first customers arrived.  One was a very familiar face:  Liberty Lee.

"Libs...how lovely to see you!  I thought you'd be down at Houston" said Barbara, greeting her friend and neighbour.

"I fly down there this evening.  My shift on the Gold team isn't until tomorrow." Liberty replied.

"I lose track; I know there's a spaceflight launch today but I can't remember which number Gemini it is"

"XI:  Conrad and Gordon.  We're still trying to get better at docking and spacewalks." said Liberty.  "But today I want something special!"

"Ooh, how special?" said Barbara, intrigued at what Liberty had in mind.

"Well, it's Gary's birthday in just over a week and he's invited me to Chez Llama, then on to dancing at the Kitten Club so I want something smart, swanky and up to the minute that would look great at both places and will make his jaw drop.  I need to find something today because I fly out to Houston tonight and won't be back until the day before our date, and I'm likely to be too tired to go clothes shopping then."

"I think I have just the thing..." said Barbara, with a smile on her face as she envisaged the perfect outfit for Liberty.

Meanwhile Jeremy had returned from his run, freshened up in the staff bathroom and changed into a better fitting suit.  He then wasted no time in getting back to work, which consisted of customer service.

In the boutique was a young, blonde woman who was dressed head to toe in pale pink, including a pale pink beret which she kept on whilst in the shop.  When she saw Jeremy holding a clipboard of items for sale she correctly deduced that he worked in the shop and made a bee line for him.

"Excuse me, do you work here?" she said in a bright, pleasant sounding voice.  

"I do...in fact, I co-own this store.  How may I help you?" he responded.

Jeremy noticed that she was very pretty, with prominent cheekbones, bright green eyes and full lips.  Her blonde hair was trendily cut so that when it reached the shoulders it curled outwards.  A pretty face always froze Jeremy in his tracks.

"My, I am in luck...the co-owner no less.  I'm looking to buy an outfit that will...what's the word?  'Dazzle', that's it.  I want to buy an outfit that will dazzle when I wear it."

"Would it be for any special occasion?" Jeremy asked.

"Erm...nothing specific...I just want to impress people with what I wear.  Be noticed...but only by the right kind of gentleman or lady"

"Something aspirational, perhaps?" said Jeremy.  The woman put a gentle hand on his arm and smiled enthusiastically.

"You put it perfectly, yes, 'something aspirational'.  I feel you understand me on this one.  So intuitive, tee-hee." she said, with a coquettish giggle.  This just made Jeremy tense up more.

"Well, madam..." he began.

"Oh do call me Sally, Mr?"

"Saint, Jeremy Saint"

"Saint by name, saint by nature perhaps?  Silly me.  I am in your capable hands."

"OK...Sally...let's look at what's in our range that would be ideal for you..." he said, nervously.

At various times since the boutique had opened, there was a little drama being played out in it.  Whether it was the Sneedleys denouncing the store which led to George Sneedley having a panic attack or a bunch of mean teenage girls picking on fellow teenager, Lulu Strang, there were these moments when it looked like things might turn nasty and today was no exception.

The problem occurred when Jeremy, Barbara and Toni were all on the other side of the boutique and three customers had a set to at the front.  Jeremy noticed some raised voices and turned to see where they were coming from when he saw three customers, two men and a woman, getting tense and angry.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!  You belong in prison you do!" said the woman, a lady of around 40 who had blonde hair and wore a green pants outfit.  She had directed her comments at an older, grey haired man whose fashion choices were a mixture of old and new.  Alongside the traditional button up vest and classic cut pants he wore his shirts sleeves slightly rolled up, with a white cravat and his hair was longer than most men his age...it was practically like the Rolling Stones.

"And what crime have I committed?" said the man, who had a mischievous and slightly leering expression on his face.

"You know!  Your poor wife...." replied the lady.

"Habeus corpus...produce the body, dear lady.  Maybe I can explain the matter over dinner this evening..."

"Ugh, no thank you.  You disgust me!" she responded in a huff.  "In fact, I will telephone the police right now..."

At this point the second of the two me intervened.  A large black gentleman with a neatly trimmed beard stepped in between the two squabbling customers.  

"Now, now.  There's no need for that and, besides, you've got no proof of any crime to accuse Mr Villareal of."

"I could have you arrested for making a false allegation in public, Miss." retorted Villareal.

"Jacques, I'd advise you to stay quiet as well.  This is not the time nor the place for a spat." said the black man.

Jeremy excused himself from Sally and went over to find out what was going on. 

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?" he asked.

"Not anymore, sir." said the black man.  "I think everyone is going to go their way and cool down."

"Harumph..." said the lady, stomping off.

"I could have handled this, Eric" said Villareal.

"You were pouring petrol on the situation, Jacques.  Now play it cool for the moment.  Sorry, sir" Eric said, turning to Jeremy.  "sorry to have troubled you".

Jeremy and Eric walked away from Jacques Villareal and, in a soft voice, Eric informed Jeremy what was going on and Sally was nearby, hanging on every word.

"You see, that's Jacques Villareal.  He's a bigwig around town, owns a large estate out in Windenburg.  Well, back in '60 his wife went missing and no trace of her has ever been found so, naturally, folks around here think he must have bumped her off, catch my drift?"

"I did not know that.  Well, thank you Mr...."

"Lewis.  Eric Lewis, glad to know you.  You've got a fine establishment here and I hate to see a moment like that ruin the place."

"Thank you, Mr Lewis.  I will keep an eye out for any more potential trouble between those two" Jeremy replied.  Eric Lewis walked off to check out some clothing leaving Jeremy alone with Sally, who looked admiringly at him.

"You handled that very well.  I thought that man looked familiar!  If you ask me, he did it!" she said.

"Anyway, where were we?" said Jeremy, trying to change the subject.

"Something dazzling" Sally replied.

"Oh yes, now let me check my handy little clipboard here..."

"You check away...I like a man who's thorough..."

"Gulp"

"Ah yes, I see right here an outfit that might be right for you.  Do you like black or white or a mixture?" he said, regaining his composure.

"All of the above...don't let the pink fool you" she replied.

"Then here we go...it's the latest thing, it's from the hottest new designer in town:  Poppy.  It's a black and white patterned outfit...I believe inspired by World War One ship camouflage...or maybe a particular species of butterfly...erm, I'm not explaining it very well..." he stammered.  Once again, Sally put a soft hand on his arm.

"You're doing wonderfully..." she said.

He looked down at his clipboard again "It says here that it's inspired by the French Mod look with Pierre Carin flourishes and it's the Total Look:  The dress comes with complimentary stockings or tights, shoes, gloves and a pillbox hat.  I think it's called that because it resembles a WW2 pillbox."

Jeremy inwardly cursed himself for making military references when dealing with this woman.

Sally looked at the outfit up and down with a keen intensity.  "Yes...YES" she said out loud.  "I want to try it on...not all of it, just the dress and the hat"

"Certainly" said Jeremy, who then asked for her size before getting a dress and hat from the racks.

A few minutes later she emerged, looked at herself in the mirror and walked about the shop in glee.  "Oh, Jeremy, it's divine!  It certainly dazzles!"

"I'm glad you like it" he said, politely.

"I'll take it all!  The dress, the hat, the shoes...I'm a size 9.  And I'll have these absolutely adorable gloves and the tights as well.  Jeremy, you are a wonder!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you" he said, embarrassed.  He had to admit, though, that Sally looked amazing in that outfit.  "If you're satisfied I'll get those other items and ring you up at the till."

"You're so kind.  I'm buying this in expectation really, not for any special event.  I just want to look my best for...well, Mr Right...whoever he is."

"Looking your best is always a good thing in my opinion" he said, sheepishly, trying to find something complimentary to say to her without trying to flirt or encourage her flirtation with him.

"May I ask, are you a married man, Jeremy?"

"No...not yet.  I have a girlfriend...well, she's more than just my girlfriend.  She's my business partner, my best friend and my soul mate...." he said, turning to look where Barbara was, his face beaming with pride.

"...I just haven't gotten around to asking her to marry me, yet.  Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so personal at work.  You want these items, let's go to the till."

"Oh don't apologise, Jeremy.  You're a romantic at heart, I can see that.  Is that her, the strawberry blonde in that fabulous pink dress with the lilac circles?"

"Yes, that's her"

"Oh she's beautiful!  You lucky, lucky man.  I could tell, only the best for you.  Oh you must put a ring on her, Jeremy, make it official!" Sally gushed, her eyes fluttering in excitement.  "How wonderful it is to meet you...I just wished there were more men like you out there:  Kind, helpful and dedicated." she added with a sigh.

"I'm sure you'll find one...the outfit should help." he said, trying to find the appropriate words to say to her.

Across the shop Barbara and Liberty had found just the outfit for her date with Gary.

"This dress is amazing!" said Liberty.  "I want it!"

"OK, I agree...this season is all about colour and the bolder the better" said Barbara.

At the end of business Jeremy totalled up the receipts and gathered Barbara and Toni to announce the day's takings.

"We...made...a...profit!  A big one, actually.  Two men's 3 piece suits, high end so that's always good business and 3 complete outfits with accessories from the Poppy collection." he announced.

"I knew it!  I knew it would be popular!"  exclaimed Barbara.

"Well done, Barbara.  And Jeremy as well..." said Toni.  "Hang on, Barbara...you don't look well."

Toni had noticed that Barbara had suddenly developed a nasty rash and it covered her face and arms.

"That looks pretty bad." said Jeremy.  "Did you come into contact with anything?"

"I did go into the storeroom to open up a box of those Korean gloves...oh no, I remember feeling itchy after opening all those plastic bags...ow...OWWW...my skin stings!"

"Toni, can I leave you to lock up?  I'm getting Barbara back home immediately!"

Jeremy helped Barbara to their car and instructed her not to scratch the itchy parts of her body.  Then he drove back to Willow Creek as fast as was legally possible.  Once back home, he took her to the bed and unzipped her boots and took them off whilst she let down her hair and took out the large earrings she had been wearing.  

"Oh I feel tired and itchy..." she said, lying out on the bed.

"I'll phone the doctor" he said, heading out of the room and over to the telephone.

It turned out her skin had a reaction to the plastic packaging she handled in the stockroom and the doctor prescribed some lotion and tablets to treat the illness.  Barbara soon fell asleep and just as Jeremy was going to sit down in the lounge and watch some TV, his phone rang.

"Hello, Jeremy Saint here?" 

"Jeremy, are you free this evening?" it was Suzy Humphries' voice.  

"Erm...yes.  Barbara's not well and has gone to bed and I was just going to watch TV.  What's up?"

"Neil and I want to talk with you about something important...there have been developments in our little mystery..."

Suzy and Neil lived in the next neighbourhood along in Willow Creek and it didn't take long for Jeremy to get there.  When he got inside, he found them excited that he was there.

"So what's the latest development?" he asked.

"What do you know of Victor and Lily Feng?" Suzy asked.

"Practically nothing." Jeremy replied.

"Their names didn't come up when you worked at Landgraabs?" asked Neil.

Jeremy shook his head.  "No.  I don't remember them being mentioned by anyone.  What's going on?"

"I've been doing some more research into the secret workings of this city...I've covered the Landgraabs and now I've turned my attentions to the chapter in the book about the Fengs.  They too have a rags to riches story and somehow they're part of this Triangle of Power" said Suzy.

"Oh yes, that.  Landgraab, Feng and Goth." said Jeremy.

"No, not Goth.  They're not the third part." said Neil.

"Then who is?" asked Jeremy.

"That part we're not sure of.  It's not a family, it's more like an organisation." said Neil.

"This organisation seems to pop up in the lives of the Landgraabs and Fengs, giving them assistance and material benefits that greatly benefit them and propel them to vast wealth and power.  Now in your time at Landgraab did you ever hear anyone talk about 'The Visitors'?"  asked Suzy.

"I don't think so..." said Jeremy.

"Did you overhear any strange conversations, or see any documents that seemed more out of the ordinary than usual?" asked Neil.

"Well...there's that tree in Willow Creek.  The one that leads to a weird place we can't explain.  And there's the brainwashing machine in company headquarters.  Oh yes, and there was that time Nancy acted all hyper and paranoid after....Lily Feng was shot at!" Jeremy said, excitedly, when he remembered that last detail.

"Do you still maintain any contacts within the Landgraab Corporation?" asked Suzy.

"I've not spoken to anyone there since I was fired" Jeremy replied.

"I know it's a big ask but we really need to find out more of what's going on with Landgraab and the Fengs.  Could you dust off one or two of your old contacts and ask them to look into a little matter...."

CHAPTER 129: Can I Count On Your Vote?

 "Dear Oasis Springs District Council.  My name is Edna Sneedley and I represent the League of Decency, an organisation you've no doubt heard about.  I am writing to complain about the shockingly..."

Edna broke off from typing to consider one word.  "Shockingly"?  That sounded a bit clunky for a letter of complaint.  Maybe "extremely" or "worryingly"...worryingly sounded good; as if to sound a note of warning if things weren't dealt with promptly.  Yes, and she must use the word "promptly" later on.

At that moment George entered the study.  "Good morning, dear" he said.

"Good morning, George.  I'm just writing a letter to our local council after what we saw down at Desert Bloom Park yesterday.  It was very worrying."

"Indeed it was, Edna, you just don't expect that kind of thing to happen in a shared community space.  It's the donkey I felt sorry for.  Can I be of any assistance here?"

"Should I take a polite approach to writing to the council or a more hectoring tone?" she asked.

"In this circumstance I would adopt a tone of concern with a hint of admonition" replied George.

"You're so good with words, George.  This is why I need you."

"How has your first week as an official politician gone?" asked George.

"Exhausting...it's so hard on my delicate feet, George.  I'm out there on the streets canvassing people, letting them know about our cause and do you know it's like talking to brick walls sometimes?  So many people these days are so disinterested in the kind of political issues they should be concerned about."

Edna recalled a nasty encounter the other day with a man on the street who fired a few colourful metaphors at Edna.

"Maybe you need an assistant, a personal escort to fend away those kind of ruffians" said George.  "The next time you go out canvassing and I'll come with you"

"Would you George?  That would be wonderful!  And the next time I don't want to be walking in the hot sun for hours on end...it would be better to go to some cool, shady place indoors."

THE SOLAR FLARE LOUNGE, A FEW MINUTES LATER

"Did you hear?  The Chinese have detonated another atomic bomb!  Apparently their largest one yet...AND Cleveland have recorded their lowest temperature in history!  Snow and ice in May!  I'm telling you, are these two events connected?  Eh?  Eh?" said the old man at the bar.  George and Edna had ordered their usuals and got chatting to the clientele.

"Well, the rise of China in recent years cannot be ignored.  We saw what they did in Korea!  My husband, George, was there.  Weren't you, George?" said Edna

"I was.  Terrible business." said George.

Edna and George engaged in conversation with the people at the bar until some of them drifted away, leaving the Sneedleys to have a quiet discussion. 

"You see, George, this establishment is where we need to be at, not that low brow Rattlesnake Juice Bar.  You get a better class of clientele here, more refined"

"More old people" said George.

"Precisely.  People who have seen better times when standards of decency were both expected and adhered to.  We need to canvas these folks, make them more amenable to our cause.  Let's get another round of drinks in first."

"I do think that talking about the war seems to go over well with the more senior citizens here" said Edna.  "Make a point of telling them that you served in two foreign wars"

"Well, my war record was pretty mundane.  I didn't see much action, except for that one time in Korea when our depot was infiltrated by Chinese spies disguised as cook house workers." said George, shrugging his shoulders.

"The point is you were in the Navy for 14 years and served your country wherever it needed you." said Edna, trying to encourage him.

She worked her political charm on some of the other patrons; including a pair of friends who'd known each other for 20 years.  One of them was staunchly conservative, his friend quite the opposite.

"I mean, look at the way you dress!" said the conservative man.  "What are those slacks you're wearing?"

"I'll tell you what they are, they're comfortable, that's what they are!" replied his friend.

George, in the meantime, was trying to impress himself on other customers but with decidedly mixed results.  He got into a conversation between a man who carried an air of both authority but with a hint of menace and an elderly woman who was on to her 4th drink.  The man seemed familiar to George.  Had he met him somewhere else before?  He racked his brain trying to think of where they'd met.

I didn't catch your name, Mr?" asked George.

"Jacques Villareal." said the man, plainly.

Villareal?  Villareal?  George swore that name sounded familiar.  "Have we met before, Mr Villareal?"

"I doubt it." Villareal replied.

"Hmm, it's just that I've heard that name somewhere before.  Was it in the news?" George asked.

Villareal downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass firmly on the counter.  "Yes.  My wife went missing a few years ago" he said, eventually.

"Oh yes!  I remember now!" said George, sounding relieved.  "Weren't you a suspect for a while?" he asked, tactlessly.

Villareal turned slowly to face George.  "Officially, I still am" he said, quietly, but menacingly.  "I'll be sure to pay close attention to your League of Decency, Mr Sneedley.  Very closely." and with that, Villareal left the bar.

"I can tell you're the strong, silent type" said the tipsy old lady sitting at the end of the bar.

"Who?  Me?" replied George.

"I reckon behind those glasses are the eyes of a passionate man, a man who knows what he wants and where to find it.  A man not afraid to defy social convention..." she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I NEVER defy convention, madam.  And I'm a married man!  Begone, and bother me no more!" he said, sternly.

"Trouble, dear?" asked Edna when she returned to the bar.

"Not any more" said George, shuffling a seat further down to put more space between him and the drunk old lady.

"I think you're much better at canvassing than I am" said George.  "You should approach people and I can back you up or add some detail"

"I see some younger people are arriving now...maybe we should change our approach?" Pondered Edna.

"Hmm, that might be difficult" said George.  "We're pretty much against everything young people like these days"

"Then we must model good and proper behaviour...be an inspiration"

They knew they had their work cut out for them when the first man under the age of 40 they spoke to asked "hey, where are the women at?".  It turned out he had only one thing on his mind and that was not something Edna considered to be appropriate conversational material.

At that moment the barman stepped away from serving drinks and walked over to the microphone in the corner.  He switched it on, tapped it a couple of times to see if it was working and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen; The Solar Flare Lounge is pleased to present the teenage violin sensation...Miss Eliza Dudley.  Please give her a warm round of applause."

There was a ripple of applause in the club; Edna and George looked on in interest.  "Now this could be edifying" she said.

A young woman in her late teens with flame red hair and wide, heavily made up eyes walked out to the performance area of the lounge.  She was wearing a long, black sparkly evening gown and carrying a violin.  She nodded shyly to the audience, put the violin under her chin and began to play.

"Now this is more like it...it gives one hope for the next generation...although she might want to choose a dress that doesn't show so much décolletage next time." said Edna.

George looked at his watch "Time for work, dear, good luck with the rest of your day.  I hope you convince more people" he said before trudging off to the hotel restaurant where he worked.

Edna purchased another drink from the bar and considered what to do next.  The music here was fine but she felt she'd tapped out the clientele for voter support so with the evening just beginning she pondered where to go next.

"Excuse me, barman...is there anything going on in the city that you could recommend?  Somewhere not horrid and seedy but more cultured and wholesome?" she asked.

The barman stroked his chin and hummed in thought.  "I think the Spice Festival is taking place in San Myshuno tonight.  Let me check the diary."  He reached down under the bar and pulled out a large black book.  Flipping over some pages he came to today's date.  "Yeah, Spice Festival...that's near the Waterside Warble bar.  Do you want me to write this down for you?"

"Yes please, that's very kind" said Edna, smiling enthusiastically at him.  Downtown San Myshuno was what was known as a 'target rich environment'.

THE SPICE FESTIVAL, 7:20pm

The square outside of the Waterside Warble was filling up with lively people, some dressed in exotic Asian costumes, others had donned shorts and t-shirts as it was a warm, balmy late Spring evening.  Edna looked overdressed in comparison but she wasn't concerned; after all setting a good image was her metier.  She noticed the gaudily painted pavement art, the paper lanterns and Asian inspired decorations.  One banner reminded her of a wooden painted piece of art George brought back from Japan in 1953.  There was a sign over a table which read "Take the Taste Test Challenge" and there, laid out on the table were various pots and bowls of food which she didn't recognise at all.  She approached the man running the stall. 

"Good Evening, Madam" he said.  "Would you take the Taste Test Challenge?  We have a variety of delicious foods from all the continents of the world right here.  Each bowl contains something twice as spicy as the previous one.  Sample all 12 and you win a prize of dinner for two at Chez Llama."

"I don't recognise any of these dishes" said Edna.  "So this thing, this event runs every so often I hear?"

"Yes Ma'am" the man replied.  "It's one of the most popular festivals in the city.  Would you like to try the Penne All Arrabiatta from Italy?"

"Yes...that sounds nice, I'll just put my drink down there and try some..." she said grabbing a bowl and a spoon.  She took a small spoonful and gingerly put it to her lips before taking a tiny bite.

"Hmmm, there's a certain amount of picante to the sauce...mostly pleasant...now may I have a few words with you about law and order in this part of town?  How bad is the crime around here?"

"Please, lady, why not try this dish now.  It's from Africa and it's called Suya...it's a kind of kebab cooked in traditional spices." said the man, offering up a plate.  Edna took a sip of her drink and then went to sample the dish.

"Hmmm, the aroma is....interesting....the taste is....OH MY!  OH MY!  PUT IT OUT!  PUT THE FIRE OUT!  DRINK!  DRINK!  WHERE'S MY DRINK?  I NEED MORE DRINK!  ARRRRGHHH, IT BURNS!"

CHAPTER 63: Played For A Sucker

"How you doin', Jeremy? Can you handle the pace?"

"I...*puff*....can...*puff*...keep....up..., Action, *puff*...don't...worry"

The two neighbours, Jeremy Saint and John Action, did another lap of their street and once past the old, big tree they came to a stop in between their houses.

"I've got to hand it to you, Jeremy" said Action. "You're not bad...for a civilian"

"I bet you do a lot of running in the police force and the Marines" said Jeremy, hunched over with his hands on his aching thighs.

"In the police, I've got to be fast to catch the bad guys...in the Marines I had to stay fast to avoid the VC bullets"

Jeremy waved a hand at him and stood up. "Man...I'm going to hit the shower now...thanks for the run, I enjoy the company and the challenge" he said.

"No worries, stay loose, man" said Action taking a deep breath. Jeremy staggered back to his house and Action was just about to move on when he heard a voice call out.

"You're in my way, Officer" It was Nancy Landgraab.

"Actually it's Detective now" said Action. "Sorry to get in your way, Mrs Landgraab" he continued, stepping off the footpath.

"You seem to make a habit of that" said a very terse Nancy Landgraab.

"Do I? Does it disrupt your activities?"

"You know nothing of them" she replied with a sneer.

"Oh don't count on that" Action said. "I know more than you think"

"You only suspect, Detective, but be warned...I can disrupt your life quicker than you realise. I won't put up with your intrusions or insinuations any longer...cross me again and you will feel the brunt"

"Fighting words there, Mrs Landgraab" said a defiant Action.

"There are fiercer fighters out there than the Viet Cong, Detective" and with that, she started her run again. Action followed her with his gaze until she went out of sight.

Action went home, showered, and headed off to 13th Precinct headquarters...this time in civilian clothes, not a uniform as befitting a detective. As he entered he spotted a tall, beautiful brunette at the front desk. His colleague, Officer Cole Michaels, gave him a rundown on the young lady.

"She gave her name as Francoise Erdee, she's French. I struggled to make out what she was saying, her accent's that thick. Hey, don't you speak a little French, Action."

"Un petit peu. Picked some up in Saigon when I was there. Mind you, the kind of French I learned isn't suitable for general conversation but I'll give it a go"

Action approached Miss Erdee. "Bonjour, Madamoiselle. Quel est le probleme?"

"Au secours, Gendarme! My...'ow you zay, concierge...erm...landlord...'e is gone...erm...'e left this letter. I do not understand all of eet"

Action took the letter and read it.

Dear ladies
By the time you read this letter, I'll be dead. I cannot give you the details of what has befallen me but my past has finally caught up with me. I have instructed my attorney to handle your rental of my property in future. Please do not try to find me, I have to atone for my sins and this is the only way I can think of settling them that best suits all concerned. Do not involve the police, I have gone forever. I apologise for the distress I have caused you with this letter and state of affairs; you are all wonderful human beings and I wish you all the best for your futures.

Yours sincerely

Jacques Villareal

"Please, what does eet mean?" asked Francoise.

"It's something to look into right away" said Action. "He addresses this to 'ladies' and refers to them a few times"

"Oh zat is myself and my two 'ousemates...we are all from France and we are doing...'ow you say...work experience"

Action's mind was suddenly filled with an image of tree gorgeous French women all living together....he assumed the other two must be very attractive based purely on the example stood before him. He struggled to think of a more beautiful woman he had met. He suddenly composed himself.

"And do you know anything about these activities and 'sins' as Mr Villareal put it?"

"No, notzing at all" she said, shaking her head.

"Alright, leave me some details about Mr Villareal's home and....well, contact details for yourself and your friends." he said, putting away his notebook and taking one admiring look at Miss Erdee. He had a girlfriend who he was very keen on...but in Action's mind it didn't hurt to look at the menu of life.

Action wasted no time in heading down to Jacques Villareal's home on the Crumbling Isle, Windenburg. It was an exclusive, difficult to reach place and home to some of the wealthiest people of Sim City. Action arrived there in one of the city's water taxis to find a very attractive, but also very quiet neighbourhood.

Action walked over to the residence of Jacques Villareal; the Von Windenburg estate. He was surprised to find a man matching Mr Villareal's description swimming in the house pool.

"Mr Villareal, I presume?" said Action.

"What do you want?" said the man.

"I want to speak with Mr Villareal. My name's Action: Sim City PD"

Without saying another word, the man swam to the edge of the pool and lifted himself out.

He walked over to Action, slowly, and said "I'm Jacques Villareal. What's this about?"

Action held up the letter. "This letter was apparently written by you and it talks about you doing self-harm and atoning for your sins. Do you recognise it?"

Villareal took a look at it. "Nope. I didn't write that although whoever did made a nice job faking my signature"

"And who would write a fake suicide letter and go to the trouble of faking your signature?"

"There are a lot of cranks in the world; you're the detective, you work it out. Out of interest, how did you come by this letter?"

"Your 3 French tenants...do you think they could have faked this?"

"Those three? Nah, they're sweeties....they wouldn't do anything that would get them deported. Besides, none of them could string out aa grammatically correct sentence in English by themselves."

Action looked around him and took a deep breath. "Do you have any enemies who would want to trouble you, Mr Villareal?"

"Not any more" said Villareal. "Now if that's all, Detective, I want you off my property so I can get back to my swim"

Action took the letter and without saying another word took a quick look around the island to see if anything was amiss but there was nothing. A couple of joggers, a man fishing by the beach but other than that...just the birds, trees and lots of saying don't walk here or no littering. Action waited for a river taxi and departed empty handed.

Back at the station, Action had his routine tasks to perform...one of them was his usual fingerprinting and photographing from serial pickpocket, Kabir Joyson.

"Mr Action...always a pleasure to be processed by you" said Joyson.

"Must be my charm or your ineptitude at escaping from the cops that keeps you coming back here" said Action.

"Oh Mr Action...that's cruel. If your colleagues weren't so jumpy at bringing me in when there's no evidence on me then we wouldn't keep meeting like this"

Action had a thought. "Hey, Kabir, I could make this whole process a lot easier for you; starting with bringing in some decent chow and having a word with the judge that I don't think you're a serious flight risk if he posts bail."

"OK, I'm interested..." said a cautious Joyson. "What's the deal?"

"A bit of information...but let me tell you a story about my day. So I had a run in with Nancy Landgraab this morning...I've been closing some cases lately and her name keeps getting linked to the perps I'm bringing down. So she gives a me a "warning" that I should back off from her affairs. Then, this morning, I'm sent on a wild goose chase...this gorgeous French chick tells me her landlord has committed suicide because of something he did in his past. Only when I go and check the story out, the landlord is alive and well...BUT he has a very hostile manner about him when the police are around."

"And this landlord's name is?" asked Joyson

"Jacques Villareal"

Joyson smiled and drew a deep breath. "Well, well, well Action...you're caught between the Landgraabs and the Villareals. I wouldn't want to be you right now"

"Who's this Villareal?"

"He's wealthy, no one's quite sure how he comes by his money though...word on the street is he's as crooked at Nancy Landgraab but, like her, no one's got any dirt on him. But he's more dangerous than her, that's for sure"

"Why?" asked Action, suddenly engrossed in what Joyson had to say.

"Rumour had it he murdered his wife!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah, I remember the case...I was lead detective on it" said the Chief, when Action went to visit him after his conversation with Joyson.

"And had he murdered her?" asked Action.

"I believe so...so did most of my team. He had motive, means and opportunity but we never found the body...I mean, not one trace. According to him, and his family, she just 'disappeared' without trace and the case is still open". The Chief looked wistfully out of his office window. "So now Jacques Villareal has appeared on your radar...you best be careful. Like his wife, a couple of good cops have 'disappeared' when they've tried to go after him."

"What of his other criminal activities?"

"We can't tie him to anything!" said the Chief, suppressing his annoyance. "Oh we've tried...so what do you make of this fake suicide letter?"

"My hunch is that someone wants me to take a closer look at him and this was a way of an introduction" said Action, tapping his fingers together.

"Who would do that? An ally?"

Action shook his head. "The opposite...someone who wants me to stop taking a closer look at them: Nancy Landgraab"

"Now come on, we've talked about this before Action...the Landgraab's are donors to the Police Benevolent Fund and are upstanding members of the community!"

"I don't know, Chief...their names keep coming up on my recent cases"

"Look....run with whatever leads you have but don't go on any wild goose chases with the Landgraabs and be careful around Villareal!"

Action got up, did a casual salute to the Chief and went about his duties. At the end of the shift he felt restless so he gave his girlfriend, Katherine, a call and invited her over.

She arrived, tense and angry.

"Hey, baby, what's the matter?" asked Action.

"Oh I've just had a horrific day!" said Katherine. "One of the charities I'm involved in got its funding cut! We've been dependent on one single, big donor these last couple of years and, with no advance warning, they completely cut their donations to us! We've now got a massive shortfall in our accounts"

Action pondered this bit of news...on a hunch he asked a question. "Who was the donor?"

"Oh it was the Landgraab Foundation" came Katherine's reply. Action nodded to himself...now it was becoming clearer. "And was this charity your Anti-Crime one? The Neighbourhood Watch?" he asked as a follow up.

"Why yes? Do you know something about it?" she asked.

"Law enforcement and prevention of crime aren't flavours of the month with the Landgraabs right now. Tell me, do you know if Nancy Landgraab knows about us?"

"Erm...yes, I mentioned it in passing at a banquet we both attended last week"

Action nodded. "I'm afraid that you knowing me...intimately...has cost you. I'm sorry"

Katherine turned to Action and looked at him with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Is this an act of petty revenge on her part? Hmmm, I wouldn't put it past her...the evil old witch!"

"Well, I'm glad to hear you and I are on the same page about her" said Action, smiling to diffuse the tension. Katherine saw his face and broke into a smile as well.

"Oh John....all this has made me incredibly tense" she said with a sigh.

"Well, let the healing hands of John Action do their magic work" he replied.

"Oh you have 'magic hands' now?"

"They've never known to disappoint" he said, seductively.

"Prove it then" replied Katherine, also seductively.

"Turn around and let them get to work" said Action. Katherine duly obliged and Action got to work massaging her neck and shoulders.

"Hmmmm that's good. Ooooh, that's the spot. Say, this couch isn't the best spot to do this...maybe we could move this into the bedroom?"