The Trouble with Tulip (37 page)

Simon got up, dressed, and rode the bike to the pay phone, where he dialed Louise Parker, the one he considered the ringleader. Louise had obviously had both wealth and beauty in her youth, and though the wealth remained, the beauty had long since faded. She still carried herself as if she were something to look at, however, which was kind of sad. She had been making a play for Simon since the day they met.

Throughout the con, Edna had confided to the other women that Simon was her grandfather's best friend, a man she remembered quite well from her childhood. To keep up that pretense, for propriety's sake, Simon didn't even stay at Edna's house but instead rented a room in a fleabag motel across town.

Once the con was rolling and the women were starting to take the bait, Edna announced to the group that she had taken the magic formula and felt wonderful, as if she really were going to live forever. Once a shill, always a shill.

Now that Edna was dead, of course, Simon had some explaining to do. He should be able to wing it, as he only needed to string the women along until his bank check arrived.

Simon dialed Louise's number, relieved when she answered rather than letting it go to the machine.

“Louise, it's Simon,” he said enthusiastically. “I've had the hardest time getting hold of you!”

She was angry. He let her rant for a few minutes, but when it sounded as though she was winding down, he spoke. His voice warm and apologetic, he explained that he'd been called out of town unexpectedly on business, but that it had all worked out for the best because while he was away he had spent some of his time perfecting the formula—which meant it would work better than ever.

“But it doesn't work at all!” she cried. “Edna Pratt is
dead
. If it worked, she couldn't have passed away. No matter what kind of accident she had, she shouldn't have died.”

Simon closed his eyes, feeling a surge of guilt for what he was about to do. Simon rarely felt guilty about anything, but at this moment even he was ashamed of himself.

“Oh, but Louise, that's partly why I had to go away. I learned that Edna lied. She lied to all of us. She never did take the formula like she said. She wasn't as honest and upstanding as we all thought.”

“I knew it!” Louise said, eager to pounce on a common enemy.

Forgive me
,
Edna
, Simon thought.
But a man's got to do what a man's got to do
.

“Edna wasn't like you, Louise,” he said. “You're the kind of woman I know that I can trust. Edna didn't believe in me; she only pretended that she did. But you really do. I know that you do.”

“What are you saying?” she cooed breathlessly.

“I'm saying that I've been alive now for two hundred and ninety-one years and I've never met anyone quite like you, Louise. A little patience is all you need, and then I'll be back with the formula, you can take it yourself, and we'll be together forever. Just think about that—we'll never be separated by death. And since we can change metal into gold, we'll always have money and our needs will always be met. Just don't tell anyone about us—not yet, anyway.”

That should calm her down and shut her up for a day or two, which was all he needed to be free and clear.

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered after a moment's silence. “You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say all of this.”

Jo ran into Angus as she was leaving the school, and he walked with her all the way out of the building, simply making conversation. He was much more animated than usual, almost agitated. Certainly, he didn't seem like himself. Once outside, he walked with her all the way to her car, a little startled when Chewie began barking from inside.

“Big dog like that,” he said, “can sure mess up your house. Where do you keep him at home?”

“So far he goes wherever I go,” she replied. “But if he's going to stick around, I guess I'll have to break down and install a fence.”

“Really?” Angus said. “ 'Cause I do odd jobs on the side. I'd be happy to come over and give you an estimate on that.”

“On putting a fence around the yard?”

“Yeah, I could come over tonight, take a look, give you an idea of what it would cost. Where do you live?”

If he weren't being so pushy, Jo wouldn't have thought twice about their conversation. As it was, something about his demeanor was giving her the creeps.

“I'm not ready for that yet,” she said. “First I have to decide if I'm keeping him or not. And right now I have to run.”

“That's right,” Angus said, stepping back from the car. “You're having some kind of meeting at your house at noon, aren't you?”

Jo's pulse surged.

“How do you know about that?”

“I, uh, I did a shift for a friend over at the retirement village last night. You know how old folks like to gossip. They got nothin' better to do.”

Jo nodded, wondering what else he wasn't telling her.

“What kinds of things are they saying?”

He took another step back, shrugging.

“I don't know. I just heard it mentioned that some of them were going over there to your house. Well, you have a nice day. If you want me to give you a price on a fence, let me know.”

“I'll do that,” she replied.

Then she got in the car, locked the doors, and drove away.

Danny knew Tiffany was mad at him for canceling the noon appointment. But he needed to be at Jo's when the women's group showed up, and if that meant one less customer at the studio today, then that's just how it would have to be. He assured Tiffany that she was such a schmoozer that she should be able to reschedule the appointment without too much trouble.

He made it to Jo's fifteen minutes early, surprised to see that there were already several cars in her driveway. When he got inside, there were about five older women there, sipping coffee, nibbling cookies, and making small talk.

“Oh, Jo,” one of them said enthusiastically, “I just have to tell you, I followed your tip for roasting a juicy chicken, and it really does work.”

Jo thanked her, flashing the same beaming grin she always gave when someone praised her column.

“I must have missed that one,” one of the other women said. “What was it?”

“It's so simple,” the first woman said. “When you roast a chicken, stuff an apple inside of it first. It makes it much more moist.”

“Do you eat the apple?”

“No. Just throw it away. But you'll be amazed at how much better the chicken is.”

Danny tuned them out as they continued to talk about cooking, which led to a discussion of the small kitchens in the units at Golden Acres. From what he could tell, about the only one of them who didn't live at the retirement community was Iris Chutney. Two more cars arrived, so that by 12:05 there were nine women in the room. Danny was shocked that there were so many. Iris Chutney was there, but Danny was disappointed that Louise Parker, the unofficial head of the group, was not. From what he had seen so far, none of the other women made a move without her consent.

By 12:15 it was obvious she wasn't going to come. He and Jo brought up some folding chairs from her basement and put them in the living room next to the couch. Then they asked everyone to have a seat as the meeting was about to begin.

“Ladies,” Jo said once they were quiet, “Danny and I want to thank you for coming today. I know it wasn't an easy decision for any of you to be here.”

Danny looked around the room, noting that the friendly joviality from earlier was gone. These ladies suddenly looked quite serious—and very, very wary.

“It has come to our attention,” Jo said, “that your group has made some recent investments about which you are concerned. To put it bluntly, since Edna Pratt's death and Simon Foster's disappearance, you must be wondering if you've been had.”

There was a collective gasp, but no one said a word.

“I'm sorry to tell you that from what Danny and I have discovered in the last few days, it looks as though there are definitely some unscrupulous things going on here. But until one of you decides to go to the authorities and tell them what happened, nothing is going to change.”

The women remained silent. Jo looked to Danny, so he took over.

“Let us make some educated guesses here,” Danny said. “You have been introduced to the mystical secrets of alchemy.”

They did not respond.

“You have seen ordinary metal turn into gold, right in front of your eyes,” Jo said.

At this, several of the women actually nodded.

“You have been promised immortality,” Danny added. “And you believe you know a man who has already achieved immortality and has the proof.”

Several more nods, accompanied by some very defensive expressions.

Jo held up a piece of paper, a printout taken from the Internet, showing a mug shot and prison record.

“This man is named Simon Kurtz,” she said. “You may know him as Simon Foster. He is sixty-two years old and has served time in prison for counterfeiting, forgery, and consumer fraud. It's a matter of public record, in case you think we're making this up. In short, he's a con man, and all of you have been victims of his latest con.”

The astonishment in the room was audible. Suddenly everyone was talking at once, and the piece of paper was being passed around frantically.

“My son will be furious with me!” one of the women cried.

“Where is our money?”

“I knew it was too good to be true!”

“What can we do?”

Once Danny could get them to calm down, he and Jo listened as Iris Chutney explained how it had worked.

It started with Edna Pratt, she said, who had come to her and Louise one day and said that she knew a man, a very dear and trusted acquaintance, who had shown her the most remarkable thing. Edna would let them in on it, she said, if they would promise not to tell anyone.

Danny and Jo shared a glance, and he realized they were both thinking the same thing: So far, they had given Edna the benefit of the doubt, assuming she was just a pawn in her brother's game. Now they understood the truth of the matter, that Edna had also been working the con. She was just as culpable as Simon. That had to have something to do with the fact that she ended up dead—probably murdered by her very own brother.

“Sure enough,” Mrs. Chutney said, “Louise and I went to Edna's house one night, met Simon, and watched him turn metal into gold. Then he showed us some pictures that proved how old he was.”

“Don't forget the painting,” another woman added. “I didn't trust those photos, but when I saw the painting, I knew it was true. I have a degree in art history, you know.”

Mrs. Chutney gave the woman a silencing look and then continued.

“Simon said the secrets of alchemy were passed down to him more than two hundred years ago, when he was 62 years old. He took the formula at that time and never turned a day older than that, even though time continued to pass. He said there was one formula for transmuting gold and another for transmuting the body, and that they were both very expensive to make. He told us that if we could raise a million dollars, he could make enough of the formula for everyone.”