Short Stories

     Nancy Downing glared at the ring. Her words first came out as a whisper but quickly became louder, “That’s it!”

     The young girl behind the jewelry display gave her a confused look. “Is there something wrong?”

Nancy pointed frantically at the ring. “That’s it, I’m positive. It has the exact same blue stone and everything.”

     The young girl came closer to Nancy. “Can I show it to you?”

     Nancy couldn’t control her excitement. “Oh, yes, please!”

     She unlocked the case and slid the ring to Nancy. Nancy held it close to her thick rimmed glasses and smiled in appreciation. “I can’t believe the police missed something like this.”

     The young girl gave Nancy another confused look. “What would the police miss?”

     “The ring silly,” Nancy said in frustration. She pointed to the ring. “This is Jimmy Hoffa’s pinkie ring. It’s been missing for decades now.”

     The girl stepped away from Nancy and whispered to an older man in a dark suit and tie standing nearby. The man whispered back to the girl then they both stared at Nancy. The girl walked sheepishly behind the man as he came closer. .“Ma’am is there something I can help you with?”

     Nancy glared at the ring. “I was trying to tell the girl here. This is Jimmy Hoffa’s pinkie ring.”

The girl glanced from behind the man. “Ma’am I don’t know Jimmy Hoffa. I barely passed US History last year.”

     The man leaned closer to Nancy. “Ma’am do you think this ring once belonged to the missing teamster’s president Jimmy Hoffa.”

     Nancy rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Where did you get it?”

     The man took a deep breath. “Ma’am, this ring is new, as is all our jewelry in our store. There is absolutely no way it could be his because I designed this ring myself no more than a month ago.”

Nancy stared at the ring again. “Are you sure?”

     “Yes, ma’am.

     Nancy handed him the ring and stared at the jewelry case. She made a deep sigh then made a polite goodbye. She walked to the door of the store then into the busy shopping mall. She wandered through the crowd for a few more minutes and went to the south exit. As Nancywent into the parking lot she stopped when she saw an older Cadillac drive past her. “Oh, my, God!”

     Nancy dashed towards the car. It had parked near the edge of the lot. Two older men got out. “Well call me sunshine it’s them!”

     Nancy pulled her cell phone from her oversized purse and press 9-1-1. The operator asked her the nature of the emergency.

     It’s Tony Jack and Tony Pro; they just got out of Jimmy’s Cadi her at the mall.”

     “Please restate those names.”

     “Anthony Giacolone and Anthony Provenzano, they’re in the mob. They killed Jimmy Hoffa.”

     “Do you wish to report a murder?”

     Nancy’s voice grew tense. “Well yes I want to report a murder. You’d better hurry or they’ll get away.”

     Nancy pulled a pad and pen from her purse and wrote down the license plate number then stood near the entrance waiting for the police. In less than a minute the sirens could be heard. As she spotted the first police car she jumped into the street and pointed to the two older men. “It’s them over there!”

The car spun to a halt near the men as the two officers drew their weapons.

     Nancy sat in the back of the police car watching her husband, Tom, talk to the detective. The detective’s frustration began to show. “I understand sir that she’s under psychological care but calling in a false murder is pretty serious stuff.”

     Tom glanced back to Nancy and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m really sorry detective it’s just that she gets caught up in this Hoffa thing.”

     The detective folded up his notebook and gave Tom a long look. “Listen, if it was up to me I’d let her go but you got to realize that she can’t just point her finger at two old men driving a car and call them murderers.”

     Tom nodded. “Are they going to press charges?”

     “Probably not. I think they kind of thought it was pretty funny being compared to two mafia guys.”

     “Can I take Nancy home?” Tom replied.

     “The detective paused for a moment. “You’ll get her to her therapist in the morning?”

     “Absolutely.”

     Nancy sat in the waiting room wondering how long Tom would take with Dr. Drewer. Her session seemed to go well and she knew Tom would be done any minute.

     “Tom, the problem is that Nancy is pretty obsessed with Hoffa.”

     “I know. She’s always been a little bit of a history buff but this is different.”

     Dr. Drewer leaned across the desk. “Everyone has their own obsessions and twirks, but hers is becoming unhealthy.”

     Tom let out a sigh. “Every since she found out that Hoffa disappeared the day she was born in 1975; she’s been pretty fixed on him.”

     “Tom, have you every thought that maybe she’s just bored. Your kids are grown and she doesn’t have anything to keep busy.”

     “So, what would you recommend?”

     Dr. Drewer pondered for a moment. “What about all those internet websites? You know the one’s where you can share ideas and make friends.”

     “You mean like Facebook or Twitter?” Tom replied.

     “Right”

     Tom shook his head. “Nancy’s convinced “Tonyman” on Twitter is secretly a mob guy. I can’t even begin to tell you the number of conspiracy nuts she’s found on Facebook.”

     Dr. Drewer stared blankly for a moment. “What about volunteer work?”

     “We tried the school PTA but after she called the police and told them the junior high school principal was a mob hit man she kind of got banned.”

     “Well there are other places like at a nursing home or a shelter.”

     Tom considered the idea for a moment. “Well, a shelter may be a little too dangerous but a nursing home is an idea. I’ll talk it over with her when we get home.”

     Nancy put her thick glasses on the nightstand then turned to Tom on the bed. “You really think working at a nursing home will help?”

     Tom wrapped his arm around her and held her close. “Dr. Drewer thinks it could help you think of things other than Hoffa.”

     Nancy put her head on his shoulder. “Tom, I’ll do it because I know how much trouble I’ve cause over the past few months. Lord knows I’ve sent the police on a couple of wild goose chases.”

     “And the FBI.”

     Nancy made a small smile then leaned closer. “Ok. I’ll go there tomorrow.”

     Nancy enjoyed working at the nursing home and soon found her routine as the days passed. The staff admired her work and the patients loved Nancy’s stories of Hoffa’s disappearance. Within a matter of weeks Nancy had her own fan club that would meet in the TV room each afternoon to hear another tale. Her biggest fan was an unassuming older man named Freddy Salvatore.

     Freddy took every opportunity to listen to Nancy and they were often spotted chatting together in the small library. Freddy’s old blue eyes would twinkle in delight as Nancy told him her theories on how Jimmy died and where he was buried.

     As the weeks passed Nancy would stay later and later at the home. The episodes with the police seemed to vanish and Dr. Drewer commented that he thought the experience had done Nancya lot of good. Nancy took great pride in her work and always came home to tell Tom of her wonderful day, except for one Thursday night.

     Nancy came into the bedroom holding a small cigar box. Her red eyes and tears were very concerning to Tom. “Nancy is everything all right.”

     Nancy wiped the tears away as she set the small box on the dresser. “My friend, Freddy, passed away last night.”

     Tom sat up in the bed and opened his arms as Nancy moved closer. “It’ll be alright honey. I know how much you liked him and I’m sure he enjoyed your company.”

     Nancy smiled as he kissed her on the cheek. “He left me his cigar box. It has everything he owned in the world.”

     “That’s really sweet. Can I see it or is it private?”

     Nancy nodded yes and walked to the dresser. “I don’t think he would mind if you looked also.”

     She handed Tom the box and went into the bathroom. As she undressed for bed Tom carefully opened the small box. Inside the little cube was a folded letter. Tom opened it and began to read:

Dear Nancy,

Thank you for making my last days here on earth memorable. You’ve got some good stories. I think you’re pretty much dead on with what happened to old Jimmy. One little thing though, he’s not buried in Grand Lawn Cemetery plot D-37. It’s E-39. The goons who dug the hole for me got it wrong. I’m leaving you all my stuff because I figure you’re the only person in the world I can trust it to and not end up on one of those stupid internet auctions.

Your friend,

Freddy

     Tom reread the note twice then looked into the box. It contained some pictures of Freddy and Jimmy. There, on the bottom, below the pictures he picked it up. It was a gold ring with a small blue stone. Inside were two inscribed letters ‘JH’.  

RK