by Mike Befeler
After completing the call, I handed the cell phone to Marion. Her eyes lit up. “I should call my family to remind them that we’re flying back this afternoon.”
She called, yakked for a while and then shoved the cell phone into my mitt. “Here. My grandson Austin wants to talk to you.”
I put the phone to the side of my head. “Are you being polite to my granddaughter?”
“Of course. We spoke yesterday and brainstormed about your experience with the Latvian crime boss.”
“I’m glad everyone has been helping.”
“So what happened?”
I explained the Butchart Gardens extravaganza.
“Wow. That sounds exciting.”
“It was. Your grandmother is hell on wheels when spraying gunk in the eyes of bad guys. I’ll tell you more of the details when we return to sunny Southern California.”
“Actually, we’re having an unusual rain storm today.”
“Funny. It’s perfectly clear in Seattle.”
I signed off and returned the cell phone to be re-stashed in Marion’s purse. Then I ambled out onto the balcony to take one last look at Elliott Bay. My head swirled with all the events of the past week. I felt relieved to have all the accusations disappear like the whale I hadn’t seen after it breached. I would miss the view from our cozy little stateroom. Not that I’d remember it after I’d next fallen asleep. What a life. I could always choose to not write things in my journal. Then I wouldn’t have to be reacquainted with them when I read my missive. Still, it was good to know what I had been through, and Jennifer, Austin and Meyer were all caught up on my exciting week.
Marion joined me on the balcony for an embrace. We disengaged, and I leaned over the railing to peruse the water as a sailboat slipped past.
Suddenly a huge fin appeared. Then a tail flipped out of the water.
“Look!” I shouted. “A whale.”
“That’s a good-sized one,” Marion said. “And how unusual. They aren’t usually right here in Elliott Bay.”
I watched dumbfounded as the whale breached, dove and then breached again.
“He’s putting on quite a show,” Marion said.
“I’ll be damned. They’ve been hiding from me all week and then at the eleventh hour, a personal envoy arrives to welcome me back to Seattle.”
“You make it sound so personal.”
“It is. After avoiding me all week, they’re trying to make up for it.”
We watched as the whale traversed the sound and swam north. I continued to ogle him until I couldn’t see a fin or tail any longer.
“Now my trip is complete,” I said.
I looked out where I had seen the whale, glad that my obsession had been relieved. The water sparkled in the morning sunlight like little diamonds dancing on the crest of the gentle swells. Again, the sense of gratitude returned. With Seattle’s reputation for rain, I was experiencing a perfectly sunny day with my new bride, both of us fit as old-fart fiddles. And we had survived murderers, a kidnapping, a crime boss, crazy fellow passengers and Grudion. Now all I had to do was disembark without knocking any ladies down the gangplank. I was ready to resume the calm life of Paul Jacobson, retired ex-sailor.
* * * * *
When they announced our color code, we grabbed our overnight bags and joined the other lemmings abandoning ship. On the dock we surveyed a warehouse full of suitcases, perched like gravestones in an indoor cemetery. We wandered among the luggage looking for our color code. Once we found the right area, we retrieved our stuff and had a porter assist us to curbside to catch a taxi.
A cab pulled up and the cabbie jumped out to load our luggage. Just then a street person ambled up. He had a dirty beard, torn clothes and a wild look in his eyes. He reached his hand out.
“Got some change, Mac?”
I looked from side to side. Marion had already settled into the back seat of the taxi, so I jumped in and slammed the door before you could say Grudion and Bearhurst.
Reader Discussion Questions
► How does Paul Jacobson change over the course of the story?
► How does Paul learn to cope with his short-term memory loss?
► How have people you know dealt with short-term memory loss?
► How are the pluses and minuses of aging handled in the story?
► If you only met Paul once, what would you think of him? How about after knowing him over the events of the story?
► What do you think of Paul’s sense of humor?
► How does Paul handle adversity?
► How would you handle Marion’s situation of waking up and finding your spouse doesn’t recognize you?
► How is murder and humor blended in the story?
► What experiences have you had on a cruise?
About the Author
Mike Befeler turned his attention to fiction writing after a career in high technology marketing. He has five books in the Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series, Retirement Homes Are Murder, Living with Your Kids Is Murder (a finalist for The Lefty Award for best humorous mystery of 2009), Senior Moments are Murder, Cruising in Your Eighties Is Murder (a finalist for The Lefty Award for best humorous mystery of 2012), and Care Homes Are Murder, and Nursing Homes Are Murder. He has a paranormal mystery, The V V Agency, and a paranormal geezer-lit mystery, The Back Wing. He holds a Master’s degree from UCLA and a Bachelor’s degree from Stanford. Mike is active in organizations promoting a positive image of aging and is past president of the Rocky Mountain Chapter of Mystery Writers of America. He lives in Boulder, Colorado, with his wife, Wendy.
If you are interested in having the author speak to your book club, contact Mike Befeler at [email protected]. His website is http://www.mikebefeler.com.
Other Books by Mike Befeler
Paul Jacobson Geezer-lit Mystery Series
CARE HOMES ARE MURDER
NURSING HOMES ARE MURDER
Paranormal Mysteries
THE V V AGENCY
Paranormal Geezer-lit Mysteries
THE BACK WING
To be on Mike Befeler’s email list for new releases contact Mike at [email protected] or go to his website http://www.mikebefeler.com