by Shelly Call
Well, here's my Halloween fanfiction. I got the idea from a book called "The Black Gloves" by Constance and Gwenyth Little. If you haven't heard of them, they're two Austrailian sisters who wrote screwball mysteries during the 1930s-'50s and they're lots of fun. In this particular book, one of the clues hinged on a fortune told with a deck of playing cards (which, maybe I'm ignorant, but I hadn't known before that playing cards were originally used for that). Anyway, I thought that that kind of fortune telling would be something Hilary would have learned to do somewhere along the line in her career, so I thought it would make a fun fanfiction. I found a book about fortune telling and annoyed my friends and family for weeks by practicing on them. The rest of the plot just sort of built up around that.
All standard disclaimers apply: the characters aren't mine, except for the original ones.
Any and all comments are welcome- I'm happy to discuss anything with you guys!
Enjoy! And I promise, it's not too scary :)
All Hallow's Eve 1941 found Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania covered by a thick blanket of ominously gray clouds through which no ray of sunshine had hope of penetrating. The sky threatened a downpour of rain throughout the day, but had mysteriously held off thus far, much to the delight of school children who reveled in anticipation of an evening spent in ghoulish pranks which would have been seriously curtailed had the weather been less cooperative. A biting wind whistled through the streets causing the branches of trees to creak, their sparse leaves whispering harshly to each other of secrets no mortal man could fathom. The forbidding skies turned the Allegheny and Monongahela to a dark iron gray, the wind creating a startling contrast by capping their angry waves with a frothy white foam.
Dusk approached rapidly on such a dreary day, which, given the date and the threatening weather, probably should have given Betty Roberts an odd sense of foreboding. As she hurried along the swiftly darkening boulevard, clutching her hat to her head in an effort to prevent it from flying away on an errant gust of wind, she was having difficulty containing her mounting excitement. She pushed open the door of the building that housed radio station WENN and continued her rapid pace toward the bank of elevators on the far wall.
They were debuting a new show tonight and an equally new, and nervous, sponsor would be arriving in a matter of moments, if he wasn't there already. It wouldn't do for Betty to arrive late and breathless to greet him; his revenue meant far too much to the station to risk offending him in any way. She'd skipped lunch today to deal with innumerable minor crises and she was afraid that if she skipped dinner too, her stomach would rumble far louder than any thunder storm that might rage outside.
As the elevator began it's slow, rickety ascent to her floor, Betty grinned in anticipation. As a writer she was more than usually aware of the details of her surroundings and she knew that even so simple a thing as a change in the weather could alter perceptions. The atmosphere created by the storm brewing outside, along with today's traditionally spooky date, would lend the perfect ambiance to tonight's premiere.
The elevator suddenly shuddered and the lights flickered for a brief moment before the car finally lurched to a halt on WENN's floor. "That was a little too much atmosphere," Betty thought with a shiver. Hopefully the flickering lights weren't an indication that they'd lose power later in the evening. She'd keep her fingers crossed, just in case.
Betty cringed as the door slid slowly open in front of her with a drawn-out creak which was beginning to rival the wailing of the three witches in Macbeth. Instead of being welcomed by the expected warm glow of electric light in the hallway, she was greeted by cold semi-darkness, a sure sign that the hall light had burned out yet again. She groped her way slowly down the hall, mindful of avoiding the various potted plants, benches and ashtrays which often created peril in the narrow passage even when it was brightly lit.
Silently, she cursed the design of the building which allowed for only one window at the far end of the hall, affording scant illumination in the inky darkness. Betty felt vaguely uneasy in the gloom and couldn't quite stop herself from imagining unseen eyes leering at her and grotesque hands groping desperately towards her from the encroaching darkness of the recesses along the way. As she approached WENN's door, she quickened her pace, heedless of any obstacles which might lie in her way, glad for even the small amount of yellow light that spilled through the cloudy glass. Her simple walk back to work had all the eeriness of the ghost stories she used to read as a child and Betty couldn't deny the relief she felt as she touched the familiar doorknob. She repressed a shiver; she had more than enough to deal with tonight. She didn't need to deal with a runaway imagination as well.
Once inside, she quickly removed her hat and coat, placed them on the rack near the door and turned to face Gertie Reece expectantly.
"Is Mr. Lawton here yet?" Betty asked a little breathlessly, winded from her walk and still feeling the effects of her experience in the hallway.
Gertie scarcely glanced up from flipping the pages of the latest issue of 'Look' magazine. "No," came the answer, in an utterly bored intonation. "And I sincerely hope he never does."
"Gertie, what do you mean? You know how important his money is to WENN. It could inflate our revenue this year to well beyond what it's ever been before," Betty remonstrated.
"Yeah, well, it'll inflate Hilary's head beyond what it's ever been before- a feat I didn't even think was possible one short week ago. Whose idea was this one-woman show, anyway? And don't even try to tell me it wasn't hers," Gertie jumped in with a wave of her hand when Betty would have interrupted to protest.
"Well, it wasn't her idea entirely," Betty replied diplomatically. "When I found out she had this ability, I thought it would make great radio, but it was Scott who actually thought of having listeners call in."
"BettyBettyBetty! Did I just hear you say the magic word?" Scott Sherwood strolled into the reception area, hands casually thrust into his pockets, his patented grin lighting up his features.
"I don't know, Scott. That all depends on what the magic word is." Betty crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him speculatively.
"Ah, Betty, haven't you ever noticed that every time you say my name I magically come rushing to your side?" Scott joked, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"Is that what I've been doing wrong all these months?" Betty slowly wondered aloud, tapping an index finger on her chin. "So, if I never say your name again, maybe you'll magically disappear," she suggested with a grin.
"Sorry, Betty, but this magic doesn't work like that. I'd explain it to you, but right now we've got to get into the control room to catch Hilary's debut performance as Madame Lilliana," the lights flickered ominously, followed closely by a deafening peal of thunder. "Nice effect," Scott said appraisingly with an approving nod. "By the way, shouldn't Mr. Lawton be here for this? You'd think he'd want to see what he was spending all of his money on," he reasoned as he began leading her down the hallway, his arm still firmly placed around her shoulders.
"That's what I thought, and as far as I know, he was going to be here. He probably got held up by some big corporate meeting or something," Betty sighed in frustration. She'd really been looking forward to Hilary's performance tonight, sure that it wouldn't fail to impress Mr. Lawton. Hilary had even gone so far as to get a costume for the premiere and Jeff was wearing a tuxedo. They were going all out, and if Mr. Lawton didn't show up, they'd all feel a little deflated, even if the show turned out to be as big a hit as Betty hoped it would. "Oh, well, the show must go on! With or without the illustrious Mr. Lawton."
"Yeah, you should never trust a millionaire, Betty. I've conned enough of them to know that they're usually the biggest cons of all," Scott said emphatically.
"Well, for the sake of our advertising revenues, I hope Mr. Lawton's money is for real," answered Betty with unbounded optimism.
A crash of thunder interrupted their conversation, causing Betty to jump, and they both looked up, as if they could see through the upper stories of thebuilding to the sky.
"Sounds like quite a storm out there," observed Scott.
Betty nodded nervously. Really loud thunder storms always made her edgy. "I just hope we stay on the air long enough for Hilary's big night. We won't hear the end of it if her performance is interrupted, even through an act of God."
Scott chuckled and leaned over to open the control room door for her. Just then, Betty saw Mr. Eldridge coming towards them and she remembered the forbidding darkness of the outer hall.
"Mr. Eldridge, the light's burned out in the outer hallway and it's as dark as the black hole of Calcutta. Would you mind fixing it?" she asked.
"You need only ask," Tom said, with a reassuring smile. "But how am I going to get to Calcutta? It's difficult to get boats to India at this time of the year, you know," he replied, shaking his head in bewilderment.
Betty did her best to conceal a grin. "No, Mr. Eldridge, you don't have to go to Calcutta. I just want you to change the light bulb in the hallway fixture," she explained.
"Well why didn't you say so in the first place?" Mr. Eldridge queried in exasperation. Muttering and shaking his head, he continued down the hall, intent on his purpose of finding a ladder and a new light bulb.
Exchanging amused grins, Betty and Scott at last made their way into the control room and took seats beside Lester.
"Are we ready?" Betty asked him anxiously.
"All set, Betty. We have about five minutes left in the football game before we go back on the air. Jeff will do the news and then Hilary can take it away," Lester said with an airy wave of his hand.
"I'm sure Hilary is thrilled. I just hope Mr. Lawton gets here in time. I hope he wasn't in an accident or anything," Betty pondered with a worried frown.
Just then, the door flung wide and Hilary Booth was dramatically framed in the opening, her gaze focused unswervingly on the far, upper corner of the room. The tilt of her head, the very air she brought with her into the tiny room were designed to capture the undivided attention of everyone present. The effect was greatly enhanced by her colorful costume, which, although it was a far cry from her usual stylishly tailored suits, made her look as if she had been born to wear a gypsy's garb.
"Mr. Lawton, how lovely that you could be here for my history-making debut in 'Hilary Booth's Madame Lilliana'. I'm sure you're as filled with anticipation as I as we embark upon this bold experiment into the powers of prognostication. What mysteries will be revealed? What dark secrets uncovered for the first time? The possibilities are too numerous for the human mind to contemplate. I, of course, am Hilary Booth," with a graceful gesture of her impeccably manicured hand, she at last brought her eyes down to the level of the other people in the room - and immediately wished she hadn't. "Betty, where the blazes is that laggard Mr. Lawton? And why didn't you tell me that he wasn't here? I just wasted one of my best entrances," Hilary stated quietly, but with barely suppressed outrage.
"Sorry, Hilary, but I don't know where Mr. Lawton is. I'm sure he wouldn't miss your performance if it was within his power to be here. He was looking forward to it almost as much as we all are," Betty explained placatingly. "We can only hope that wherever he is, he can at least hear your debut, even if he can't see it."
"Well, I suppose it will have to do," Hilary exhaled the resigned sigh of a martyr. "The show must go on, after all. My performance will just have to be that much more enchanting, reaching across time and distance, so that the hearts of all of my listeners will be touched by the power of my art - especially Mr. Lawton's." With a last, bewitching look at her in-studio audience and a lift of her chin, she whirled around, causing her skirt to billow out around her knees.
Lester couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes as Hilary made her dramatic exit. Gertie had certainly been on to something when she'd said this show was a bad idea. The theatrics he'd seen in the last few minutes were almost enough to make him wish he was back on the night shift- almost, but not quite!
"Well, at least Hilary seems to be in the proper spirit of things, despite the mysterious absence of Mr. Lawton." A deafening peal of thunder stopped Betty cold and the lights flickered dangerously for several seconds. "But I hope the weather doesn't get too much into the spirit of things."
"Don't worry, Betty. Nothing can stop our show from being a success. By tomorrow it'll be big, big news and someday, all the other radio stations will be copying us. If only we could find a way to charge people for having their fortunes told. There's got to be an angle there somewhere . . ." Scott's voice drifted off meditatively, his mind lost in speculation as he contemplated the possibilities. "Oh, well, I'll figure it out sooner or later," he grinned.
"I have no doubt you will," Betty remarked dryly, causing Scott's face to fall momentarily. "Right now, I just can't wait to see Hilary tell someone's fortune, live, on the air. Is there love and happiness in the caller's future? Or a fate worse than death?" A sudden clap of thunder seemed to rattle the very walls, causing Betty to yelp. "Darn! I wish it would stop doing that!"
Scott grinned. "I think that was a warning that you were beginning to sound a little too much like Hildy."
Betty returned his smile. "I'll admit I was a little carried away by the atmosphere and waxing a little too poetic, but, Scott, this is going to be great radio! Nobody has done anything quite like this before - this is a ground breaking broadcast!"
"I know. Very exciting! And it was all our idea," Scott said with satisfaction. "We're a part of radio history."
"We can't take all the credit, Scott. If it wasn't for Hilary's training, none of this would be possible. You know, my great-aunt used to tell fortunes with an ordinary deck of playing cards, just like Hilary's going to do tonight. I'll always remember the times when she came to Elkhart for a visit. She'd gather all of us kids around the fireplace one dark night and tell us our fortunes by the light of the flames." Betty shivered involuntarily as she recalled the sometimes awful anticipation she'd felt as she waited in the darkened parlor to have her fortune told, the light from the fire turning the familiar place into a room full of unrecognizable, grotesque shadows. "My Aunt Cordelia was a very remarkable woman who knew many mysterious things. She promised that when I was old enough, she'd teach me to tell fortunes just like her. But she died before she had the chance; I've always been a little sorry about that. When Hilary mentioned that she could tell fortunes, I remembered how fun it used to be, wondering if what my aunt foresaw would come true, and I knew our listeners would love it as much as I used to." Betty smiled warmly at her reminiscences, then looked back at Scott. "Not that I really believe any of it, but it's fun just the same."
"Oh, sure, there's nothing wrong with a little make-believe. It's one of the rocks my family stands on," Scott told her with a wink.
"Somehow, I don't think it's quite the same thing," Betty returned with a wry look, though her eyes were twinkling.
"Betty, are you sure there isn't any way Victor would consent to our number being unlisted?" Gertie demanded from the doorway.
Turning to face the clearly frustrated receptionist, Betty logically replied, "You know how Victor feels about that. And considering the fact that having an unlisted number could put you out of a job, why do you ask?"
"This crank has been calling all evening. He never says anything, but I can hear him breathing over the line as clear as day," Gertie huffed.
"Maybe he just isn't getting a good connection," Betty suggested practically. "But if he doesn't say anything, how do you know it's a man?" she asked in sudden puzzlement.
"Betty, when you get to be my age, you know what a man's heavy breathing sounds like," answered Gertie matter-of-factly.
"Gertrudinous Reece!" Scott exclaimed, grinning devilishly.
Gertie sniffed, but didn't quite succeed in hiding a knowing grin. "Well, ordinarily it's not something I mind, but this has gone on for a little too long. I mean, if he takes the trouble to call me several times, the least he could do is introduce himself," she patted her red hair with mock indignation.
Amused by Gertie's airs, Betty gave her the only advice she could think of: "If he calls back again, just hang up. There's nothing we can do about it and eventually he'll get tired of bothering you and move on to someone else." Brightening with a new thought, Betty added, "Of course, you could always turn the tables on him and introduce yourself if you like the sound of his breathing enough." She grinned impishly, knowing Gertie would at least pretend to be outraged at this suggestion.
"Betty Roberts! Whatever happened to the sweet, innocent girl from Elkhart, Indiana who I shared my peanut brittle with?" Gertie pretended to shake her head in shocked amazement. "I like this one even better," she threw over her shoulder with a wink in Betty's direction before heading back to her desk.
Meanwhile, Jeff was reading the news in the studio, beginning with events in Europe before moving on to more local subjects. For the first time in several months, one of the local news items eclipsed even the war.
"That nefarious burglar, now popularly known as the Pittsburgh Pirate, struck once again last night in what is quickly becoming the worst rash of thievery ever to hit downtown Pittsburgh. The victim was Klein's Jewelers on South Isabella Street. The elusive burglar surprised an elderly clerk, Rose Freemont, as she was locking up the store for the night and left her tied to a chair where she was found the following morning when Abel Klein came in to open the store for the day. The police are encouraging everyone living or working in the downtown Pittsburgh area to exercise extreme caution and say they are hoping for a speedy resolution to the case."
"Klein Jewelers- that's just a couple of blocks away. He's getting closer and closer to us," Lester observed.
"Yes, for once I guess we're lucky it's common knowledge that we don't have any money. He'll probably leave us alone," remarked Betty with relief.
"Just the same, you'd better let me walk you to the trolley- at least until they catch this guy," Scott added hopefully.
"I'll keep that in mind," Betty returned with a quelling look before turning her attention back to the studio where Jeff was just about to announce the debut of Hilary Booth in Hilary Booth's Madame Lilliana . .
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