Happy Birthday, Marge

by Shari Hearn

  Fortune shrugged. “Or maybe Celia was lying.” She gave Carter a kiss, then pulled a chair up to the bed. “But we’re not here to talk about her. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” said Carter. “They’re just being overly cautious.”

  “Thanks for charging in Marge’s room to save me.”

  “From the looks of it, you were doing okay on your own.”

  Fortune shrugged. “You never know. Things could have changed in an instant. So Barb said she saw me with the Gidleys?”

  Gertie sat on the gurney. “Which is strange, because she was busy eating the frosting off Marge’s cake. She didn’t even see the Gidleys.”

  Carter shrugged. “I was on the phone with their car rental company and she heard me use their names.”

  “You suspected them?” Ida Belle asked.

  Carter threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m actually good at my job.”

  “But why?” Fortune asked. “Why did you suspect them?”

  “I suspect everyone and start eliminating,” Carter said. “Barb Geroux said whoever held a sword to her chest wasn’t from around here. And when I saw the Gidleys at your house last night, I noticed his cane and the round, rubber tip at the bottom. When they mentioned the genealogy connection, I recalled that Gus Westerfield had several businesses connected with historical things, including as a genealogist.”

  “That’s why you drove the Gidleys to their motel last night. You wanted to get more information out of them.”

  Carter nodded. “And the license number from their rental car. Turns out they were using a phony Ohio driver’s license to rent it. I was getting a call back from the Ohio BMV when Miss Geroux overheard my conversation.”

  Fortune shook her head. Marge could identify with that look on her face. She blamed herself for not noticing the clues.

  “Don’t be hard on yourself,” Ida Belle said. “We didn’t have the information about Gus Westerfield being a genealogist. And you got snookered in by Eleanor Gidley’s lie about not having a family. Your Achilles heel.”

  “Happened to me too, kid,” Marge said.

  Gertie nodded. “I’m sure most private investigators have a steep learning curve at first.”

  Carter looked alarmed. “You ARE considering being a PI.”

  “You heard her wrong,” Fortune said. “It’s the concussion.” She then changed the subject. “So how are the Gidleys?”

  “Now known as the Hendersons? He suffered a concussion and a detached retina. She suffered a broken nose and a ruptured eardrum.”

  “Poor babies,” Ida Belle said.

  “Fortunately, we now have the weapon their grandson, Tyler, used to shoot a man in Lafayette. It looks like their arrest may also help solve a string of burglaries from historical museums.” He looked at Gertie. “Sorry you don’t get to keep the Colt Dragoon that Marge bought for you, but it’s evidence now.”

  Gertie waved him off. “It was used to kill a man. I can do without it. At least it will help convict Tyler.”

  Carter nodded. “The shooting will be Tyler’s third strike. He won’t see the light of day for a while.”

  Ida Belle pointed to the food on the tray. “What is that supposed to be?”

  Carter grimaced. “I think mac and cheese and... could be a hamburger patty.”

  “Or a freeze-dried turd,” Gertie muttered.

  “Now that you mention it...” he said, pushing the tray away.

  “Lucky for you we brought dinner,” Fortune said.

  Ida Belle reached inside the grocery bag and pulled out a Styrofoam container sealed in plastic wrap. She ripped open the plastic and opened the container. “Francine’s flat iron steak, scalloped potatoes and green beans.”

  Fortune pulled his tray of hospital food off his bedside table and set it on a shelf. Ida Belle placed the Styrofoam container in front of a smiling Carter.

  Gertie reached in her purse and pulled out a smaller container. “Francine baked a replacement cake for Marge.”

  “With gluten,” Fortune said. “Enjoy.”

  “Well, if I have to,” Carter said, smiling.

  “If you don’t mind, we’re going to leave you two to yourselves for a while,” Ida Belle said.

  Fortune looked up. “Where are you going?”

  “The chapel,” said Ida Belle. “This is the same hospital Marge passed away in. After Marge died, Gertie and I visited the chapel. It felt as if she were there. We’re hoping she decides to pay another visit.”

  “Indeed, I will,” Marge said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Marge

  THE GHOST FOLLOWED her old friends out of Carter’s room.

  Gertie and Ida Belle both appeared lost in their own thoughts as they stepped in the elevator that took them to the chapel.

  The second floor of the hospital was pretty unremarkable until you stepped inside the chapel. Marge had spent many hours there, sometimes as a visitor, then later as a patient. Often she would take a book to read. Sometimes she just stared at the stained-glass windows and disappeared inside herself.

  Gertie opened the chapel door and Marge followed her in. The three rows of chairs were empty. The five stained-glass windows at the front of the chapel were stunning when the sun was out, etched with birds and deer and waterfalls. The middle stained-glass window was larger than the four side windows and featured an angel. Several lighted sconces lined the walls.

  Gertie took a seat in the second row. Ida Belle sat next to her. Gertie looked around, as if trying to spot Marge’s spirit lurking about. “Hello, Marge,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “It’s your birthday today, Marge,” Ida Belle added, her voice cracking. Ida Belle didn’t show emotions much, while Gertie wore her heart on her sleeve. Marge had always been somewhere in the middle.

  Tears began rolling down Gertie’s cheeks. “Oh Marge, I’m so sorry your party was a mess.” She pulled out a small tissue pack from her purse and dabbed her eyes with one of the tissues. “I had one job to do, and I screwed it up.”

  “Gertie,” Ida Belle said, “you didn’t screw anything up.”

  “Yes I did.” Gertie stared at the angel. “Every birthday party I ever threw for Marge was a disaster, and this was the worst of all.” At this point she began to sob. Ida Belle sat stiffly next to her, a line of tears spilling from her own eyes, which she quickly mopped up with a tissue.

  “For heaven’s sake, Ida Belle,” Marge said, “put your arm around her or something.”

  Ida Belle reached over and patted Gertie around the shoulder. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Ida Belle’s right,” Marge said, sitting next to Gertie. “I always liked the parties you threw me. Yeah, they always ended up disasters, but so what. Better than a boring party.” Marge patted Gertie’s shoulder with her ethereal hand.

  Gertie turned and looked curiously at her shoulder.

  “Yeah, that was me,” Marge said. “Gertie, this was the best birthday party I think I ever had.”

  Gertie touched her own shoulder, a puzzled look on her teary face, as if she had felt Marge’s touch.

  She and Ida Belle both gave a start when the door opened and Fortune walked in.

  “Why aren’t you with Carter?” Ida Belle asked.

  “Nurse Timid tattled to Nurse Ratched about you two and I was given the boot. Is it okay if I’m here?”

  “Of course,” Gertie said, wiping her face.

  “So,” Fortune said with some trepidation, “do you feel her here?”

  “I do,” Gertie said.

  Ida Belle nodded. “Me too.”

  “So what’s with the face?” Fortune asked.

  “I was just apologizing to Marge for such a crappy party.”

  “Crappy?” Fortune said. “I escaped being killed today. I’d say it turned out pretty well.”

  “Listen to her,” Marge said.

  Gertie sniffed. “I just wanted one party to b
e perfect.”

  “Come on, I’m sure at least one of Marge’s parties in the past went off without a hitch,” Fortune said.

  Ida Belle shook her head. “Not really.”

  Gertie reached into her purse and pulled out her iPad. “I made a little compilation video of Marge’s parties. I was going to play it for everyone today, but it was so bad I decided against it. Here, take a look.”

  Gertie played the video, turning up the sound. Marge leaned in with Fortune and watched her life rolling before her.

  Marge appeared on the screen as people were singing happy birthday to her in front of a three-tiered birthday cake.

  Fortune’s eyes widened as she looked at the screen. “Did Marge’s cake just blow like a volcano?”

  Ida Belle nodded. “Last year Francine decided to take a vacation in August and leave the running of the café to Fred. He sent Jennifer’s cake to us. Jennifer loved volcanoes. Her friends thought it would be funny to rig it to gush like one.”

  Laughter could be heard and they all looked down at the video to see Marge doubling over in hysterics. Standing next to her, Gertie looked horrified and near tears.

  “Looks like Marge thought it was funny.”

  Another clip appeared on the screen, this one of Marge’s birthday five years ago when Gertie had hired a crew of stilt walkers to wander through the crowd.

  “Stilt walkers?” Fortune asked.

  Gertie shrugged. “I thought it would be unusual.”

  Fortune’s eyes widened again as she looked at the video. “Did one of them just take a nosedive in Marge’s cake?”

  Gertie nodded, tears streaming down her face. “It was a disaster. Same as today.”

  Again, Marge’s laughter could be heard from the video.

  “Marge didn’t seem to mind that one, either.”

  “It was hysterical,” Marge said, laughing as she remembered the snooty stilt walker with icing all over her face. “But not half as funny as the time they hired that Elvis impersonator and he was so drunk he puked all over the cake just as I was blowing out the candles.”

  They watched another clip, again ending in Marge’s laughter.

  “If you ask me,” Fortune said, “I think she would have been laughing during this party as well. If she laughed at an exploding cake, I think she would have loved that you hired a convicted pickpocket as a magician.”

  “Not to mention the ukulele brawl at the end,” Ida Belle said.

  Marge chuckled. “The look on Didi’s face when the ladies were stuffing bills in her grandson’s underpants was priceless.” Her chuckling progressed into a full-throated laugh.

  Ida Belle’s lip quivered, as did Fortune’s. Soon they too were laughing. With tears still streaming down her face, Gertie exploded in laughter as well.

  “It was the worst, wasn’t it?” Gertie said before howling.

  Marge noticed Miss Mellette sitting in the row in front of them and took a seat next to her.

  “Even though I failed in my mission, it turned out okay,” Marge said.

  “Failed? How so?”

  “I was supposed to save Fortune. Other than deliver a warning through the dream and through Barb, I wasn’t able to do anything. She shouldn’t have even been in that room, though. I should have prevented that.”

  “And how would your life had turned out if every time you were about to receive a scrape or a disappointment, your parents stepped in and prevented it? You wouldn’t have learned how to cope in life.” Miss Mellette glanced over at Fortune, doubled over in laughter. “No, she learned the lesson she needed today. But then, so did you. Life is for the living. And as much as we want to help, sometimes the best we can do is provide a bit of guidance and let them learn.” She patted Marge’s hand. “And don’t underestimate the power of a warning to be on alert. Sometimes that goes a long way.”

  Marge nodded, looked over at Fortune. “That young lady was good, I’ll give her that. To be honest, Miss Mellette, I’ve been a little jealous of her.”

  “No!” Miss Mellette said with a bit of a mocking tone.

  “But I guess if I have to be replaced,” Marge said, feeling her voice cracking, “they couldn’t have picked a better gal to replace me.”

  Miss Mellette shook her head. “They didn’t replace you, Marge. They just added someone.”

  Their laughter had died down. Gertie pulled in a breath and released it. “I miss Marge so much.”

  “Yeah,” Ida Belle said softly, “me too.”

  Gertie pulled another tissue from her bag and wiped the tears away. “Do you think Barb was talking to her?”

  “Well, if she was,” Ida Belle said, “then it would just be Marge’s dumb luck to have Barb as her only medium.”

  “Tell me about it,” said Marge.

  “I sure would like to be able to talk to her.” Gertie dabbed at her eyes. “I never thought I’d say that since my granddaddy’s ghost scared the crap out of me when I was little. But, yeah, I wish I could see her. Be with her.”

  Fortune reached over and touched Gertie’s chest, above her heart. “She’s right here.” And then touched Ida Belle. “And right here.” Then patted herself above her own heart. “Though I never met her, I can feel her right here.”

  Gertie nodded. She then pulled out a Styrofoam container from her purse and opened it. One of the most delicious slices of chocolate cake that Marge had ever seen. Gertie handed it to Fortune then fished around in her purse and pulled out a plastic baggy with a lighter and small birthday candle. She lit the candle and stuck it in the cake. The three of them sang happy birthday to Marge. When it was over, they stared at the candle. Marge waved her hand over it and it flickered.

  “Happy Birthday, Marge,” Gertie whispered.

  THE END

  WANT TO READ MORE OF my stories in the Miss Fortune World? Visit my website at sharihearn.com to learn more.

  Author Bio

  SHARI HEARN WROTE HER first story when she was 4, a bunch of squiggly lines, a stick figure and a door, and the only two words she was able to write: THE END. After learning how to spell more words, she took the next logical step and moved to Los Angeles, working on various sitcoms as both a writer and producer, as well as writing screenplays and pilots.

  She’s now crossing over into novel writing, sharpening her mystery-writing chops with 11 short stories and novellas in the world of Miss Fortune fan fiction.

  She is currently working on more stories for the Miss Fortune World, as well as an original cozy mystery series to be published in early 2019.

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  Also by Shari Hearn

  Miss Fortune World

  Merlin's Misfortune

  Miss Fortune World: Sinful Past

  Undercover

  Miss Fortune World: Sinful Spirits

  Happy Birthday, Marge

  Soul Man

  Miss Fortune World: Sinful Stories

  Nearly Departed

  Mutiny on the Bayou

  Overdue

  Nearly Beloved

  Rematch

  Leaving Sinful

  Murder on the Sinful Express