If Wishing Made It So

by Lucy Finn

  After lying up in the loft sobbing her eyes out for maybe ten minutes, Hildy decided that crying wasn’t making her feel any better. Talking with Corrine might give her some much-needed sympathy and emotional support. After all, nobody understood her better than her own sister.

  Hildy called Corrine, who had just turned off Oprah, and relayed the whole miserable scenario, word for word, minute by minute. Then Hildy got to the part when she said to Tony G., ‘‘And if Mike really loved me, he would have let me explain—’’

  At that point Corrine’s patience totally evaporated. ‘‘Are you nuts? What was there to explain? He found you drinking with a guy, who he thought you were dating, who was wearing a toga, which not unreasonably Mike thought was a bathrobe. What was he supposed to think?’’

  ‘‘But he was wrong,’’ Hildy insisted. ‘‘You know that. I’m not dating Count Arigento. Count Arigento doesn’t even exist.’’

  ‘‘Exactly! And Count Arigento is really Tony G.—who is a genie. Not a guy. A genie who lives in a bottle! What is the matter with you, Hildy? This is not rocket science. You take the bottle, with Tony G. in it. You go to Mike’s hotel room. You knock on the door, and when he answers, you say, ‘Watch!’ You pull out the cork. Bam! Smoke comes pouring out of the bottle and turns into Tony G. You say, ‘See, he’s not a guy, he’s a two-thousand-year-old genie.’ It worked for me, didn’t it? And that’s the end of the misunderstanding.’’

  ‘‘Cor-reeeene. It’s the end of the misunderstanding, but Mike is going to call security to have me put in the loony bin.’’

  ‘‘Hildy, trust me, he’s not. Once he regains consciousness, because he’s going to faint dead away on the floor same as I did, you can explain the whole thing right from the beginning. And you know how you end the conversation? You said Tony wants a job? Ask Mike to hire him. I mean, who could be a better detective than a genie? Hildy, are you listening to me?’’

  Hildy let out a deep sigh. ‘‘I guess it can’t hurt to try.’’

  Actually, Corrine’s idea might have worked, if Mike had been in the hotel room after Hildy managed to get the room number and find the floor and knock on the right door. She had the genie’s bottle in her hand, and she was all ready to pull out the cork.

  But Mike didn’t answer the door. Kiki did.

  Something like a snarl came out of Kiki’s mouth. ‘‘What do you want?’’

  ‘‘I came to see Mike. Is he here?’’ Hildy said, trying to peer around Kiki to see for herself whether Mike was lurking inside. She would have been angry if he was, but it would have leveled the playing field in a way.

  ‘‘He’s out. He’ll be back though—to be here with me.’’ She gave Hildy a smirk.

  Hildy heard a muffled voice from inside the bottle say, ‘‘Don’t fall for it. She’s full of crap.’’

  So Hildy said, ‘‘I don’t think so. He told me he had broken things off with you the day before yesterday.’’

  ‘‘It was just a lover’s quarrel. I mean, he had just screwed me every which way to Sunday that same morning … and honey, he was a tiger. He didn’t even put a condom on because he wanted this to be the time he gave me a child.’’

  The muffled voice said, ‘‘Didn’t happen. Bet on it.’’

  ‘‘I don’t believe you. Look, I thought Mike was here. He’s not. I’m going to go.’’

  Kiki’s hand darted out and held Hildy’s arm, her red nails digging into Hildy’s flesh. ‘‘Wait just a minute. You think I don’t know he slept with you? Well, he told me all about it and I forgave him. He was so grateful. I mean, what would he want with a country bumpkin like you? And he’s going to be so thrilled when I tell him I’m pregnant.’’

  She gave Hildy another smirk.

  Hildy shook her arm loose from this shrew’s grip. She stood up as tall as all five feet four inches in Teva sandals would allow. She squared her shoulders. She looked Kiki in the eye and said, ‘‘If you’re pregnant, it’s not Mike’s. And if you try to pretend it is, I’ll make sure he knows you slept with Count Arigento … without a condom.’’

  Kiki’s mouth fell open; then she shut it fast. ‘‘The count told you that? Well, it’s my word against his, now isn’t it.’’

  ‘‘No, it isn’t. Count Arigento was kind enough to let me see the photos he took with his camera phone of your … your performance. And as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, now isn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Oh, the hell with it!’’ Kiki screeched. ‘‘You want Mike, you can keep him! He wasn’t ever any good in bed anyway!’’ And she slammed the door in Hildy’s face.

  ‘‘Maybe not with you, he wasn’t,’’ Hildy said to herself and smiled.

  Jimmy the Bug had returned to Ocean City an angry man. His best-laid plans had been flushed down the crapper. The construction machine thefts, the best scam he had ever devised, had been busted. His most loyal henchmen had landed either in the slammer or the hospital. But was he dispirited? Was he depressed?

  Hell no. That was not Jimmy the Bug’s style. He wanted vengeance. An eye for an eye. And he knew if he got the genie back, the reversals of fortune that had occurred in the last few days wouldn’t matter. He’d be on top of the world, where he always dreamed he’d be.

  So he picked up the phone and put the order out, through his family in Scranton: Grab Hildy Caldwell’s sister Corrine. He needed her alive for a while, but as soon as he had what he wanted, he would send word to have her killed.

  Then he got into his white Cadillac CTS, put a cat carrier in the trunk, and began part two of his twisted but foolproof plan.

  Mike Amante drove back to Atlantic City a sorely troubled young man. He knew what he had seen. He knew what Jake had told him. But he couldn’t make sense of any of it. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen Hildy in years. Through his mother, he had kept tabs on everything she did. Which wasn’t much. Until this summer, she had lived with her cats and led a modest, if terribly dull, uneventful life.

  The Hildy Caldwell he knew did not cavort with gangsters. She didn’t have illicit affairs. She never told a lie. And she loved him; he had no doubts that she did.

  Maybe he should have waited for her explanation. But seeing her with Count Arigento split his heart with white-hot pain.

  Now, his mind in turmoil and his emotions trampled, he wasn’t sure what to do, but finally he felt a tug inside telling him to return to Trump Plaza. He needed to get his stuff out of the hotel room. Then maybe he’d make a decision. He parked the rental car in the hotel’s garage. He went through the casino, arrived at the elevators, and pushed the call button. The light over one of the closed doors flicked on. The brushed steel doors slid open.

  Hildy stood there in the elevator car, a stunned look on her face, the weird bottle she cared about so much in her hand.

  ‘‘Hildy? What are you doing here?’’ Mike asked, incredulous. This was still another coincidence, and he just couldn’t explain them anymore.

  ‘‘Mike! I went to your hotel room, to talk to you. Please, I can explain everything. It may sound hard to believe. But I need you to trust me.’’ Her eyes pleaded, but her voice held firm.

  The elevator doors started to shut. Mike stuck his foot in them and they opened again. But he was determined not to stick that same foot in his mouth. He entered the elevator. He hit the button for his floor. He took Hildy in his arms. ‘‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked away without hearing you out.’’

  ‘‘And I should have told you everything earlier,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Yes, I think you should have. But whatever it is, it’s okay. Let’s go to my room and we can talk, really talk.’’ He glanced up at the floor indicator. ‘‘We’re almost there.’’

  ‘‘Ah, I don’t think going to your room is a good idea,’’ Hildy said.

  Mike laughed. ‘‘I promise to behave.’’

  ‘‘It’s not that.’’ Hildy smiled. She really wouldn’t have minded.

  ‘‘What then?’’ he asked. />
  ‘‘Kiki’s there, and she’s not taking the breakup very well.’’

  Mike couldn’t help himself. He grinned. ‘‘I take it you spoke to her.’’

  ‘‘Sort of. She called me a country bumpkin and then said—well, she screamed it actually—that if I wanted you, I could have you.’’

  Mike gazed down at Hildy. He couldn’t think straight again, but now he knew why with utter certainty. He loved this woman—it wasn’t enchantment or magic. It was true love plain and simple. He didn’t care about counts or Mafia bosses or anything. ‘‘Do you want me, Hildy?’’

  ‘‘Yes, yes, Mike, I do.’’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly. ‘‘But I have to get some things off my chest. And I’ve been thinking. It should be done in front of your partner. Can we go to your office instead of into the dragon lady’s lair?’’

  ‘‘If that’s what you want,’’ Mike answered.

  Hildy saw the surprise on his face. ‘‘Look, Mike, your partner doesn’t trust me. At some point, you’d have to choose between him and me. I don’t want that. So let’s go clear the air.’’

  Jake Truesdale downed some more Tylenol. He looked at the clock. Mike had phoned to say he’d be there in ten minutes to clear things up. He sounded jumpy and a little strange. Maybe this partnership wasn’t such a great idea. He liked Mike, but the guy was young and paid more attention to his little head than the one on his shoulders. Jake understood that, but Mike’s choice of women could be an ongoing problem.

  All right, he’d give him ten minutes. He’d listen to what Mike had to say, then make a decision on whether to stick with his partner or go it alone.

  Ten minutes later, on the dot, the door to the office opened. Mike and Hildy stood there.

  ‘‘You didn’t say you were bringing company.’’ Jake wasn’t putting out the welcome mat.

  ‘‘I asked to come here with Mike.’’ Hildy strode into the room. ‘‘I think it’s time to lay all the cards on the table. That’s how you detectives talk, right?’’

  ‘‘Not really, but why don’t you say what you came to say.’’ Jake’s expression was sour.

  Mike clenched his fists. He thought Jake should have more respect. Jake noticed. He was in no condition to get in a fight and maybe he was out of line. He decided to give it another try. ‘‘Why don’t you have a seat and tell me your story,’’ he said to Hildy and nodded at a nearby chair. His voice was less hostile, but wary.

  Hildy felt no intimidation. Compared to standing in front of a class of hormone-crazed fifteen-year-olds, facing Jake Truesdale didn’t even faze her. She tipped up her chin; her voice was crisp. ‘‘I’ll stand and show you, rather than tell you. But to give you some background for what you are about to witness, let me say that I found this bottle in Caesar’s, next to a slot machine.’’ She held it up as any teacher did in show-and-tell.

  ‘‘However,’’ she continued, ‘‘as I tried to explain to you at the motor lodge, I soon found out it had previously been in the possession of the Mafia boss, James Torelli, known as Jimmy the Bug. To be succinct: He wanted it back. He attempted to steal it from me. He attempted to extort it from me. He attempted to abduct me. I’m happy to say that he did not succeed.’’

  ‘‘Why didn’t you just give him the bottle? You said it was his.’’ Jake wasn’t impressed. He wondered where this cock-and-bull story was going.

  ‘‘I said it had been in his possession. But I assure you, he must never regain ownership. And it’s time to show you why.’’

  Hildy pulled the cork out of the bottle with a dramatic flair. ‘‘Antonius Eugenius, come out here.’’ She appeared to be speaking to the bottle. Jake, thinking that this was one crazy lady, looked at Mike. Mike shrugged.

  A wisp of smoke slithered out of the neck of the bottle. It trailed upward toward the ceiling where it quickly became a bright white shining cloud, edged in gold and shot through with silver. Suddenly the cloud sank to the floor and shimmered. A second later a Roman soldier stood where the cloud had been. Mike was a big guy. Jake was a little taller. This guy dwarfed them both.

  He also looked very familiar to Mike. ‘‘Count Arigento?’’ Mike asked.

  Hildy blushed. ‘‘I’m sorry, Mike, but there is no such person. I’m embarrassed to say that we dreamed up a phony Italian count to make you jealous. I apologize. Let me introduce Antonius Eugenius, also known as Tony G., a centurion in the army of Caesar Augustus—or he was in 6 BC when he was bewitched and made into what he is today. A genie in a bottle.’’

  ‘‘What is this, a parlor trick? Didn’t that magician David Copperfield do something like this?’’ Jake scoffed at what he witnessed, a skeptic to the core, or perhaps a doubting Thomas.

  ‘‘I realize it strains credulity,’’ Hildy said in her best schoolteacher voice. ‘‘Therefore Tony G. has consented to give a demonstration. I yield the floor.’’ Hildy sat down.

  Tony G. nodded. ‘‘I understand, Mr. Truesdale, you have suffered some recent injuries. Let me help them heal.’’ Tony G. opened his hand to show it was empty, then made a tossing motion and a spray of sparkling glitter floated through the air. The first line of ‘‘I Heard It Through the Grapevine’’ played. Jake looked surprised, then stunned.

  ‘‘Huh? What just happened?’’ He rubbed his dislocated shoulder. It didn’t hurt.

  ‘‘You can stand up if you’d like, but I guarantee your ankle is quite healed.’’

  ‘‘What the hell are you?’’ Jake bellowed, being the type of man who became belligerent when worried or scared.

  ‘‘As Ms. Caldwell mentioned, I am a genie who has been riding around in that amber glass bottle for two thousand years.’’

  ‘‘Oh, bullshit,’’ Jake said.

  ‘‘Wait,’’ Mike interjected. ‘‘Don’t be so fast to dismiss this. Hildy, is this really true?’’

  ‘‘Yes, Mike, it is. I know it sounds impossible, but, if I may quote Shakespeare, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ Perhaps another demonstration would help. Tony?’’

  Tony G. grinned. He reached inside his tunic and pulled out a piece of papyrus, with angular writing on it. He moved as if he owned the room. He stopped, he bowed, he put the papyrus on Jake’s desk.

  ‘‘What’s this?’’ Jake said, picking it up and trying to read it. All the Us looked like Vs.

  ‘‘A list of Jimmy the Bug’s customers,’’ Tony G. answered. ‘‘Those are the guys who bought stolen equipment from him. I understand you’re trying to recover it.’’

  ‘‘How did you get this?’’

  In truth, Tony G. just sat down and wrote the list out from memory, having overheard plenty when he belonged to Jimmy the Bug. What he said was, ‘‘Magic. I’m a genie. It’s what I do.’’

  Mike cut in. ‘‘Jake, if that’s for real, it’s worth a million dollars to us.’’

  ‘‘Let’s see if it checks out before we start counting our chickens.’’ Jake scowled, although he was beginning to have an uneasy feeling. Maybe the guy who looked like he worked for Caesar’s was a real genie, or not a real person, depending on how you looked at the situation.

  ‘‘So you see,’’ Hildy said, ‘‘it’s been a big misunderstanding, Mr. Truesdale. I was telling you the truth when I told you I had gone to the Sleep-E-Z Motor Lodge the other night because my sister said you and Mike were headed there. Tony G., here, knew it was booby-trapped. I was just trying to save your life. So I wished that the bombs and bullets couldn’t hurt anybody.’’

  Jake looked at the short blonde with the earnest face. He looked at the guy who called himself a genie. He felt a little light-headed all of a sudden. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away.

  While Mike pulled Jake out from under the desk and sat him up until he started to come to, the momentous meeting was further interrupted by a call on Hildy’s cell phone. She looked at it and saw Corrine’s number on the screen. She answered and heard her broth
er-in-law Jack’s voice. ‘‘Hildy, we have a problem.’’

  ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Hildy was immediately worried.

  ‘‘Corrine—’’ He stopped for a minute, unable to speak. ‘‘Corrine has been kidnapped. Someone broke into the house and took her. I’ve had instructions from her abductor.’’

  ‘‘Oh no!’’ she cried out.

  ‘‘Listen to me, Hildy. This is what I’ve been told to tell you. This guy wants you to meet him on the street near Caesar’s, on the corner of Pacific Avenue and South Arkansas Avenue in one hour. He’ll be driving a late-model white Cadillac. He says to bring the bottle. He says to forget about wishing for Corrine’s release. He also has your cats, and he said that you don’t have enough wishes to save them all. If you want to see them alive again, you need to go there and give back the bottle. Hildy, do you understand?’’ Jack’s voice shook while he talked.

  ‘‘Yes, Jack, I’ll go right away.’’ Hildy clutched the cell phone so hard that her knuckles turned white.

  ‘‘Wait! One more thing—the caller was insistent. You have to go alone. Just you and the bottle.’’

  ‘‘Okay, Jack. Don’t worry, I’ll get Corrine back. I’ll contact you as soon as it’s done.’’ She ended the call.

  ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ Mike said, seeing Hildy’s face.

  ‘‘Jimmy the Bug has my sister and my cats.’’ Then she told him the rest.

  ‘‘Hildy, it’s okay. Jake and I will be there. We’ll grab Jimmy the Bug when you go to hand him the bottle.’’

  At that point the deep, authoritative voice of a two-thousand-year-old genie interrupted. ‘‘No!’’

  They all turned their heads to look at Tony G. He put his hand on his sword and spoke as a centurion who had once issued orders to a hundred and sixty men. ‘‘Jimmy the Bug had one of his henchmen grab Hildy’s sister. If he doesn’t call in, chances are—’’ He hesitated, reluctant to speak the obvious.

  ‘‘Oh,’’ Hildy said. ‘‘You’re right. What am I going to do?’’

  ‘‘Ms. Caldwell. You know exactly what you must do. Wish for your sister’s release; then Jake and Mike can try to snatch the cats from Jimmy the Bug on the street.’’