Mortimer

Chapter 7

“It is such a fine necklace, Gerard.”

“Nothing but the best for my dear lady.” He hung his cane on the back of the booth and gestured to the bartender before squeezing himself next to her.

“You spoil me.”

“How did you get away this evening?” He asked, in a change of subject.

“Let’s not talk of that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Tell me more about how I deserve presents.”

“You will have diamonds.”

“Yes?”

“And gold.”

Her eyes widened at his promises.

“And whatever your vapid little heart desires.”

“Gerard!” She slapped him playfully. “I am not vapid.”

“But all you women are,” he argued, leaning back as two drinks were placed before them. “You tell me that you dally with me for love and affection?”

Her lips pursed into a pout. “How could you ask such a question? You know I love you!”

“I will not tolerate lying women!” His baritone voice rose authoritatively.

“Oh, Gerard! I am wholly and truly dedicated only to you.”

“Then you will have to prove it.”

“Anything.” Her voice was breathless.

He shifted in the booth and pulled an envelope out of his lapel pocket. He spoke more quietly. “I got word from Robert.”

“After all these years he has finally called! Dearest Gerard, did you send him my letters?”

“Of course, I did!” Gerard opened the document. “The last installment came. The time to wait has passed.”

“When? When did it come?” She reached for the letter, but he yanked it out of her reach and replaced it into his pocket.

“That is no matter to you.”

“But what about the certificate?”

“Don’t you worry your little head about that, either.” He picked up his glass and swirled the liquid in it thoughtfully. “I do believe I will miss this little place.” He swallowed the contents in one tremendous gulp and slammed the glass to the table with self-satisfaction.

“I’ve not packed anything; we must go by my place before setting sail.”

“You aren’t going anywhere baby.” Gerard signaled for another drink.

“What?” Her voice pitched. “But you promised!”

promised“I told you that you were going to have to prove it.”

“How dare you!”

Gerard grabbed her wrist before her hand contacted his face. He growled at her, his voice lowering beneath the noise of the bar.

Her face flushed at his words and her jaw dropped. “You lying bastard!”

His nostrils flared with temper and the black and silver mustache above his lips quivered in suppressed rage. The table groaned as he pushed himself up from the booth, yanking her up with him.

“Let me go!”

But no one went to her rescue. For her adversary was Gerard Ascariot, one of the richest men in the country. No one turned their heads and the saxophone carried on as the blue-blooded villain dragged the screaming woman out of the bar.

Leaving several coins on the table, he followed them into the night.

***

1920

`Bam! It was an ostentatious display of fire and gunpowder that sent Mortimer Ascariot reeling backward in his chair. Brown plead boots were flung wildly into the air as his flailing frame careened toward the filthy dirt-laden earth.

A high-pitched squeal followed by a boisterous "haffump!" emitted from his lips frame as he struck the ground, his face a mask of umbrage and surprise.

haffumpLilly Lou Longhorn fluttered to his side in a moment, the red polka dots of her gown adding an ever so nauseating flavor to Mortimer’s present state.

"Oh darling!” She crooned. “Are you alright?"

"What was that monstrosity?" Bellowed Mortimer, whose latent indignation had suddenly been refueled by his upside-down position. For just several moments ago he had been most pleasantly occupied in the musings of a new project. The Esquirer, a monstrosity of a ship that had been docked at the harbor for tours these last six weeks. Mortimer had been down every day that week in hopes of solitude, wielding a piece of graphite against a packet of simple trusty parchment. But his musings were constantly being interrupted by passersby who found pleasure in interrogating him regarding trivial pursuits such as ‘the weather,’ while others felt persuaded to share ‘condolences’ for his late father.Lilly Lou had ‘happened by’ the most, her voice being particularly annoying to Mortimer. He cringed now as she flapped her hands in front of his face.“The g*n signaling the races to begin, sir.” Answered the butler.

"I do declare!!" Lilly Lou groaned, her face a mask of worry. "Someone help my dearest Mortimer up!""I am quite alright!" Mortimer protested, and with motivation renewed by her now close proximity, he rolled his rotund body to the side and away from her squawking.A pair of white-gloved hands reached down to assist him and Mortimer growled and snapped his teeth together several times in warning. The wise gentleman increased the distance between them by several paces."You really should be ashamed of yourself Herbert!" Lilly Lou was wagging her finger at the superbly austere fella", who Mortimer had just dissuaded from coming to his assist. “To suggest we all come here!”Mortimer groaned and pushed himself to his knees. But then he narrowed his eyes, for sprawled in the dirt was a tattered sticker with a coat of arms emblem that had been torn from a cigarette box."Felicity indeed!" He plunked the sticker from the ground and held it into the air. "The maiden flag!""Mortimer dearest, you must have the surgeon look at you." Lilly Lou commanded, instantaneously adhering herself against Mortimer’s lateral folds."I daresay he looks rather well..." The gloved man crooked a brow and leaned against the paddock. "Doesn"t seem to care in the least."Mortimer licked his lips greedily and, standing up, he extracted the ardent woman from his side. She flew backward landing in the arms of the man with the gloves. He shot her a singular look that had her bolting from his arms and she immediately went to work smoothing her skirts and blushing furiously. While this took place, Mortimer whirled to face the butler who watched from afar. "Neville,” he thundered, the wrapper waving in the spring breeze. “We must return to my study at once!"

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