49. The Future Lies Ahead
And so she departed this world of pain, clutching her Beloved to her breast. – The Lawn of Death, by Carlita Blade
The cyclist limped up to the open casket, maneuvering carefully with the identical cane that had knocked him off his bicycle. His fractured shin ached inside its walking cast, and his bandaged skull testified to the injury it had received. The bruises on his face did little for his appearance.
He gazed pensively at the body lying in the coffin. Such a beautiful woman she was ... how tragic! He felt a stab of pity for her, but an accompanying stab of pain in his injured leg reminded him of the suffering she’d inflicted on him with her thoughtless arrogance. A tiny smile crept onto his face then.
The chairs behind him were filled with the same crowd as was at Frank Armstrong’s visitation a few days before – everyone in the same seats, wearing the same outfits and long expressions. The same shifty eyes calculating the new order of the Armstrong business empire. The whole atmosphere seemed like a bad dream, or maybe Act 2 of a poorly written play.
Henry Armstrong stood near the back surveying the scene. What a damned waste of money this whole thing was! But it was also good PR, so better to just grin and bear it. He didn’t want to come across as a cheap prick as he entered the battle for control of his father’s business empire. So, he was showing respect to Dad’s beloved, however galling it might be.
Stepping into his father’s shoes wasn’t going to be easy. He knew full well that Blackjack Hogan and others were out to get him. Right this minute, Hogan was sitting near the front with those three bimbos, wearing a long face. But soon he’d rally the forces against Henry. You couldn’t reason with the guy; he held too many grudges.
Well, best to get the personal injury / wrongful death lawsuits out of the way first – reduce the distractions. Henry was convinced he could settle them fairly cheap. Then there was his sister to consider ...
Patricia Armstrong sat by herself among the many official ‘mourners’ pondering her own strategy. It wouldn’t be easy to come out on top, she realized. Henry and his pals could be more formidable than she’d thought. The smart move was to make an opening to John Hogan, enlist his aid for a takeover.
Why wouldn’t he agree to that? It would be extremely beneficial for him, and he’d end up with minority interests in several lucrative enterprises. But when she’d tried to approach the man, he nearly bit her head off.
She almost envied Laila reposing in her casket, all put back together and looking beautiful. The reconstruction work had cost a fortune! Laila would never have to worry about getting old or suffering the indignity of men turning their eyes to other, more alluring sights.
What a morbid thought!
Patricia needed a new girlfriend to help her get through this trying period. She glanced toward Sharese and smiled. There was something to be said for one night stands, too.
Near the front of the parlor, left of the aisle, the three members of the Eldorado Explorers Club occupied the same seats as they had when Frank Armstrong was the star attraction.
“My, doesn’t she look good?” Margaret whispered. “They did a marvelous job with the body ... considering what it’s been through.”
She dabbed a handkerchief to her eye, conscious that people might be watching her.
“Didn’t I say this would happen?” Pauline said.
“How right you were,” Margaret said. “They just couldn’t live without each other, could they?”
Ilsa McIntyre did not join in the conversation. She wasn’t even there, actually. In her place, Carlita Blade contemplated revisions for The Lawn of Death. Recent, startling events had invalidated the earlier ending, and a new one was taking shape in her mind:
The ambulance crashes on the way to the hospital. The heroine flings herself over Gaston to protect him, but she is killed in the process.
He survives and establishes a love connection with the ambulance driver who, though injured herself, drags him to safety and gets him to the poison control center on time. They plan to marry as soon as they are fully recovered.
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you pull up in your ambulance,” Gaston said, “but I was in no position to tell you, being poisoned and all...”
His voice trailed off as he sadly recalled his former love who gave her life so that he might live.
“So did I,” the driver answered. “When I saw them put you on that stretcher, I thought: ‘some day he’ll be lying in my bed!’”
He drew her close. They shared a passionate kiss. Then Gaston’s eyes looked out toward the future, focusing on their many happy years of togetherness.
Maybe his life wouldn’t be as prosperous as he’d once hoped, but there would always be true love within it.
There! Carlita thought triumphantly. This ought to get my fans reaching for their handkerchiefs ... and their vibrators.
Across the aisle, Sharese, Candy, and Nichole shared their grief among themselves.
“So, this really is the last meeting of the Four Musketelles,” Sharese said.
The others nodded, wiping genuine tears from their eyes with hankies.
“Who’d have thought it would end like this?” Candy said.
“Poor Laila,” Nichole said. “It seems like only yesterday when we first met her at Three Musketeers.”
Henry approached the cyclist at the casket and took his arm, speaking in a low, confidential voice.
“I’m Henry Armstrong, attorney for the estate of the deceased.”
This wasn’t really the case, but Henry didn’t want Blackjack Hogan involved any more than necessary. For his part, Hogan seemed willing to let Henry tie up the loose ends and had granted him the required authority, subject to his final approval.
The cyclist looked at Henry suspiciously and did not reply.
“Concerning your personal injury claim ...” Henry said.
“What about it?” the cyclist said.
“I’m certain we can reach an amicable settlement out of court.”
“Oh?”
“I’m an old bike racer myself, you know,” Henry said. “I’ll see that you get a fair shake.”
Henry led the cyclist smoothly away from the casket. His manner was cordial, almost avuncular as he assisted the cyclist limping along on his cane. They conferred in low voices.
The Musketelles observed the episode with frank disapproval.
“We definitely need to find a new playmate,” Sharese said. “That one’s way too oily.”
Candy and Nicole nodded.
“What about Lonnie?” Candy asked.
“Still working on it,” Sharese said.
“Mr. Hogan isn’t bad,” Nichole said, “for an older guy.”
Sharese glanced over at Hogan.
“He sure looks like he could use a good screw,” she whispered.
Henry and the cyclist moved to the back of the room, then out the door.
$$$
Across town, at the affiliated bargain basement funeral home, attendants wheeled two enormous coffins into another parlor. The coffins contained the remains of Bert and Sally Nagy. The corpses were so badly mangled in the crash that the viewing would be a strictly a closed-casket affair.
Ted and Judy entered, carrying flowers. They were uncharacteristically quiet and subdued today. Their Uncle Archie and Aunt Molly followed them with long, stricken faces.
“I’m so glad you’ve agreed to take in my sister’s children,” Molly said. “I know they can be a handful sometimes.”
“Of course,” Archie said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re family, after all.”
“You’re so understanding,” Molly said.
Molly’s grief and Archie’s misgivings were eased by thoughts of a big insurance payoff and the potential proceeds from their lawsuit.
Any reasonable juror would agree that Laila Armstrong had caused the crash. The inconvenient fact that Bert had been speeding and not wearing a seat belt ten
ded to work against them, though. The ancient airbags had malfunctioned, allowing Bert and Sally to encounter the windshield.
What a mess that had been!
Bert’s last second acceleration and lane change was another cause for concern. If he’d stayed to the far right and maintained speed, he might have missed Laila’s car altogether, or merely clipped the back end. Still, it was only fair that their anguish at the loss should be well compensated, and they were taking in the orphans, weren’t they? It took money to raise kids.
Another sour note was the massive cut the lawyer would be taking from any jury award. Archie entertained dark suspicions that things might not go so well with a lawsuit.
Maybe we’ll have to unload those kids, after all, he thought darkly.
Henry Armstrong maneuvered himself smoothly into the room, approaching Archie and Molly with utmost discretion.
“Please allow me to offer my condolences for your loss,” he said.
“Thank you,” Molly said.
Archie nodded impatiently.
Who’s this jerk? he wondered.
“I’m Henry Armstrong, attorney for the Armstrong estate.”
Archie brightened considerably and shook Henry’s hand.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Armstrong,” he said.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Henry said, “I’d like to discuss a settlement of your claim – as soon you feel up to it, that is.”
“Sure pal,” Archie said eagerly. “I mean ... my wife is very distraught, but perhaps ...”
“I think we should discuss this right away,” Molly said, “for the children’s sake, you know.”
Henry nodded sympathetically. “Of course.”
The adults moved to the side conferring in low voices, forgetting about Ted and Judy for the moment. The kids approached the big coffins on their own.
“Boom – just like that – Mom and Dad are gone,” Teddy said. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me, neither,” Judy said. “I kind of wish we’d been nicer to them ... sometimes.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, offered one to Ted who blew his nose in it.
“Thanks, Sis.”
“Well ...” Judy sighed, taking in the impressive dimensions of the caskets. “At least they finally got their super sized containers.”