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"Prologue or not to Prologue that is the question."
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Walker Joe Jackson said...
Hello StoryheartHer's how I did it:
I abandoned the “Rx Conspiracy Files” with several hot pokers smoking in the grate. It’s my style. The leftovers are warmed up and served in the next McTrite, Deloris Power PI Adventures. So, I’m writing a sequel to tie up all the loose ends. I believe readers of “Rx Conspiracy Files” will get hooked and want to read the sequel. I’m calling it “Rx Conspiracy Files Continued.” So, “Rx Conspiracy Files” ends with the following epilog that needs editing. I read.
EPILOG
Mary had passed away months ago. I’d done everything I could do to keep her above the grass, so I got on with my life. I found an attractive lady my age with common interests and we started seeing each another. She was a fantastic ballroom dancer, and. I was just as good as her. We danced three nights each week at the clubs. My weight problem improved. I have to say this. We looked more and more like Fred and Ginger with every passing dance, and we became the talk of the clubs around town. I’m amazed how popular ballroom dancing has become. I wanted to write the TV industry and suggest they produce a dance contest for seniors. Foolish thought. Who’d be interested in older fogies stumbling around the dance floor?
Often I thought about J. K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books, and hoped I’d be just as fortunate. I’d turned pages of her second book, Harry Potter in The Prisoner of Azkaban. Regrettably, it didn’t improve my vocabulary appreciably. William Faulkner said this about Ernest Hemingway. “He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary. While Rowling’s writing isn’t erudite, she has inspired young people and they are reading. That’s great? And I wondered how the agents and publishers who rejected her feel now that she’s achieved phenomenal fame and fortune.
My only concern should I enjoy her colossal success would be how I’d spend one billion dollars before the Grim Reaper tagged me. Attending the four grand slam tennis tournaments might do for starters. I might even buy a sporty Ferrari. I'd buy a more expensive tennis racket and use new tennis balls only once. My tennis shoes would be Reebok, and I’d wear them for only a short time. You know they stink after a while. Ruth and I would definitely go to Paris for our first tango. And I’d buy her a Prada purse. She’d mentioned that she’d wanted one all her adult life. My last thought troubled me. The excess so much money would afford might hasten my departure from this planet.
Lucy Lovejoy whose husband took Dioxx and died signed a statement confessing she’d hired an assassin to kill Doctor Gene Rowell. This cleared musician Willie ‘Jazz bone’ Turner, others and me. But she refused to give the assassin’s name. ‘Big Mama,’ the police’s number one suspect, was eventually found and interrogated. The police failed to break her and she walked. Lovejoy denied involvement with Doctor Theodore Callahan’s death. This crime became the polices’ number one investigation. Lovejoy was taken to a hospice and died five days later. Lovejoy, a devout Catholic, was troubled till the end over her last sin, but she accepted last rights.
CEO Carl Carter of Miracle Pharmaceutical Inc. barely escaped death by the hands of an assassin hired by Al Infantino, Junior, son of the late Mafioso boss ‘Big Al’ of New Orleans. Dioxx killed his beloved mother. Carl resigned his lucrative position at Miracle. He went to Phuket, Thailand and met Cathy Sullivan. They fell in love and married three months later. He bought an oceanfront home in Taka, Phuket. They planned to live six months in Phuket and six months in their new Florida home. Both homes were well-kept secrets. His new identity and disassociation with Miracle Pharmaceutical shielded him from the many enraged and revengeful love ones of Dioxx patients.
Earlier report stated they were still very much in love. She was expecting a baby in six months. Carl was ecstatic. He didn’t know that unforgiving Al Infantino, junior, was sending an assassin to search for him a second time, find and kill him.
Rocky Cash was arrested, extradited to New Orleans, tried for extortion and given a two year suspended sentence. Miracle Pharmaceutical intervened and asked the court to be lenient. It must have been their guilty conscience at work. But fortunately he found another sweet, young mama to share his bed.
Super slut Beverly Jenkins, once a suspect in Rowell’s death, found a new Sugar Daddy and continued her trashy ways. It’s obvious she was unconcerned about her iniquities. Evilness has always lacked conscience. However, she became a suspect in Doctor Theodore Callahan’s murder but charges were eventually dropped due to insufficient evidence. Sleeping with the doctor isn’t a crime. Her uninhibited sexuality makes her do it.
Bruce Jordan got his life back on track after Miracle reinstated him. Fortunately, no charges were filed against him. The health of his son Pete improved considerably. Now, he walks with the help of crutches. Their weenie dog’s hip problem improved to the point that Dolly no longer drags her rear end.
Hackney returned to ‘The Big Easy’ a happy, happy man. His son and daughter had won the ultimate tennis prize, Wimbledon. He’d decided to spend more time at the office so he hired a coach for his tennis playing son and daughter. This made Sarah, Hackney’s wife, happy. She was tired of traveling. She wanted to be a homebody again.
Minimal effort was spent finding the killer of Pinky, Al’s hired assassin, so Georgio walks free to hunt the CEO killer again. Actually, the Capri police have closed the book on the case. The search was classified as a waste of public money.
Nip Murray returned home from Phuket, Thailand. Wife Emma, a gambling fanatic, was in Vegas donating some of her fifty-million-dollar fortune to the Vegas Casinos. So, he arranged airline reservation. He’d join her in a few days. She’d never know about his involvement with Kit, the Thai-French lady he hired in Phuket to act as his interpreter. She’s the reason he’d had a thorough cultural experience or whatever.
Kit became infatuated with Nip from the get-go and, until the end, she tried in vain to seduce him, but Nip never gave in. One reason Nip behavior was pristine was that he always suspected Emma hired PIs to shadow him when he went on out-of-town investigations. After all, he’d been known as a charmer during his many bachelor years.
Kit eventually finished the book she came to Phuket to research, live and write. She named it “Star Fishes of Phuket.” She left the life and found a civil engineering job, but she wasn’t happy. Designing bridges bored her to tears. She missed the precarious behavior, wild life and sex. Her introductory comments were: “The woman slowly walked the beach picking up beached starfishes and throwing them back into the sea. A man approached her. ‘You waste your time. They are too numerous. You will not make a difference.’ She threw the starfish held softly in her right hand into the sea and yelled, ‘It’ll make a difference to this one.’
The world abounds with beached starfishes of many varieties. My sad story is about bar-ladies of Phuket, Thailand. They come to this enchanting, beautiful island in the south of Thailand from other Thai cities to work in the many small bars. They are prostitutes. You come. You talk. This is difficult. Their English is poor. You buy them an overpriced drink that she gets a commission on. If you find her desirable, pay her bar fine of 200 Bahts, about $6, and take her to your hotel. She will have sexual intercourse with you for 1,000 Bahts. All night will cost you 1,500 Bahts.
All these girls have similar stories. They all support at least one child who lives at home with their parents. When baby came, the husband vanished. Work is scarce in the city where she lives so she heads for Phuket to earn money to support her child. Many men come seeking the pleasures found in Phuket bars.
The bar-lady, a friend, took me to her living quarters. It was one room about 12 feet by 12 feet. The floor, which she slept on, was cement. Her two roommates slept on thin pads on the floor. Small insects crawled on the walls. The bathroom, a hole in the wall, had no shower, washbasin or commode. I saw one huge boiler of water and smaller ones. I didn’t ask for an explanation. I wanted to cry. I cried later.”
That does it. Now, I make a hard copy, edit it one more time and then I’ll design covers and publish it at my publisher Lulu.com. Time had come to start the sequel that’s haunts me to be written. My two index fingers punched keys rapidly. I was in a hurry.
Rx Conspiracy Files Continued
Vieux Carré N’Awlins - Frenchy’s – A Sleazy Vieux Carré Bar
They sat at the end of the bar whispering. Al’s big mouth moved perpetually. Loretta, the top-heavy Creole cutie tiptoed up. The conversation hushed. She spread drinks around. Al said, “Thanks Baby.”
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