Taconite pellets are forged from iron ore extracted out of sedimentary rocks. The ore is melted down into pellets. The pellets are shipped to foundries where it is used in the production of steel. During the war years and subsequently, the post-war explosion of automobiles, infrastructure, and skyscrapers, taconite was in high demand. Michigan's Upper Peninsula taconite production boomed.
The pellets were shipped to the Lower Peninsula. Giant mounds of taconite grew only to be loaded onto different freighters for shipping to steel mills in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. Port Pinnebog along Michigan's Thumb Coast grew from this economic boom.
As with all booms, the taconite market eventually went bust. Partly because the northern Michigan supply was exhausted, and partly because manufacturing jobs went overseas. Port Pinnebog saw it's Iron Era begin to rust away.
A new mayor brought about change. Mayor Jeannine Tibbets led efforts to reimagine the port city, taking it from a crumbling industry giant to a world-class tourist destination. She and her city planners began by revitalizing the existing boroughs and districts.
Midtown became the hub of the government district.
Posh parks and highrise apartments sprung up in Tip Town at the tip of the thumb.
Eastdale sported two stadiums, an arena, and several fields. It was also home to Pinnebog General Hospital.
Riverborough to the south became a center of multiculturalism. Pinnebog Technical College transformed into Pinnebog Tech University, home of the Pelleteers.
On the west side of Midtown, Wolf Bay was home to Wharf 49, an entertainment district offering theatre, museums, nightclubs, shopping, and four-star dining.
The Taconite Lounge, along Restaurant Row of Wharf 49, rarely had an empty table. Belinda Doyle had managed to squeeze in a reservation for four at eight-fifteen. When Art Reasoner arrived with two additional guests, the reception she gave him was a little chilly. Jillian Proust added her own layer of frost.
"Someone had a fun afternoon at the Swann Club." Jillian cocked an eyebrow at Reasoner.
"Haven't been there yet, Jilly," Reasoner said. He turned to the hostess who led him to the table. "Is it possible to bring over another table and a couple of more chairs?"
"They can have mine," Jilly said. She started to stand. Reasoner raised his own eyebrows. Jilly sat back down.
A hostess, perhaps sensing the tension at the four-top, attempted to resolve the matter. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, Jenny," Reasoner said.
The young woman disappeared into the crowd. Across the room, a photographer for the Port Pinnebog News popped a flashbulb on a large party that had just entered the Taconite. Jenny the hostess directed them to their table.
Paul Cooley stood and gave his chair to Carol Ann. "Artie's a little slow on the introductions. I'm Paul Cooley, his muscleman."
Carol Ann gently squeezed Cooley's arm. "I see that. I'm Carol Ann Brown. This is my partner in crime, Alicia Webb."
Alicia smiled uncomfortably from the chair Reasoner held for her. "Hi."
The hostess returned with a couple of strong servers carrying a narrow rectangular table that they absconded from the lobby. The wall table sat an inch lower than the main table. The hostess draped a tablecloth over the extension. Another hostess quickly set down two plates and two sets of flatware. Two chairs were placed side by side. Reasoner and Cooley sat with one leg outside of the table.
Several more flashbulbs popped. Always, just for a few moments, the corona lingered in front of Reasoner's eyes.
Art Reasoner shook his napkin open. "Alicia. Carol Ann. this is Jilly Proust, my office manager. And this is Belinda Doyle, my fantastic administrative assistant. Ladies, after dinner, Alicia and Carol Ann are going to be our ticket into the Swann Club. They have invitations to a private party."
Belinda's mood brightened. "The Swann Club."
"All of us?" Jilly asked.
"I've got it all worked out. Paul will be Carol Ann's date. I'll be Alicia's."
Here, Jilly scoffed. "And Belinda and I?"
"We'll figure it out," Reasoner said.
A sommelier came to the table. A party of twelve manipulated his time. "Good evening, Mr. Reasoner. Mr. Cooley."
"Hello, Vittorio."
"Mr. Reasoner will be enjoying chef's whitefish beignets, no?"
"Yes I will."
"I have a gentle Reisling he will wish to try with his meal."
"I will trust your pairing, Vittorio."
"What about me, Vittorio?"
"Stick to your beer. It goes better with the ribeye." Vittorio's accent returned when he looked at the two additional guests. "Signore, may I suggest a mellow rose' for the two of you?"
"Trust Vittorio, ladies." Reasoner said with a wink to the sommelier.
"Sounds wonderful." Carol Ann said.
"Then I shall return with the cart." Vittorio gave a slight bow of his head.
"Vittorio."
The sommelier looked at Jilly. "Yes, Signora Jillian?"
"Page Two."
"Of course, madame." Vittorio made his way through the crowded dining room.
Alicia watched him leave. "He's not really from where he wants us to think he is, is he?"
Reasoner's attention was not on Alicia Webb at the moment. He focused on what Jilly had just orchestrated. She not so covertly told Vittorio to bring up less expensive bottles. Reasoner let it pass. He knew once she found out he had the cigarette case with him there would be bigger arguments than skimping on the wine list.
"What did you learn about Agatha Kitchner?" Reasoner dug a fork into his pre-set salad of dandelion greens, cherry tomatoes, white onion, and shredded parmesan cheese.
"Are they on the case now, too?" Jilly Proust moved her salad fork back and forth pointing the lettuce-tipped tines between Carol Ann and Alicia.
Reasoner leaned forward. "You might say Alicia was on the case before we were."
"What does that mean?"
"My friend Alicia had a vision," Carol Ann said. "She knows all about the Kitchners."
Jilly's fork clinked on the plate when it dropped from her hand. Reasoner felt the heat in her eyes.
Paul Cooley intervened. "Then maybe Miss Webb knows Tony Kitchner once ran with the River Rogues."
"How does Agatha fit into that scenario?"
"It's where he met her. Yeah, so apparently Agatha was a coat check girl at the Swann Club. One night the Rogues paid a visit to the club. Tony caught her through his boss's pockets. Instead of ratting her out to his boss, he cut her some slack."
"Love at first site?"
"No. He told her starting now he wanted twenty percent of her take."
Jilly finished her wine. "A real love story there."
"So what happened?"
"They both wanted a change. Tony Kitchner left the gang--"
"You never leave a gang," Jilly said. She looked around the room impatiently then smiled when she made eye contact with Reasoner.
"She use that as her excuse for taking the diamond necklace?" Reasoner asked.
"Pretty much."
"Why did Tony Kitchner cop a plea?"
"He was afraid the assistant county prosecutor would get him on the stand and start grilling him about his days with the Rogues. Same with Agatha."
Reasoner mulled on it. "Ten years in jail or on the run for the rest of your life. Tough call."
"They didn't kill that lady in the jewelry store," Alicia said.
Jillian snapped her head around to face Alicia. "And you know this how? Oh, that's right. You're a psychic."
Alicia shifted in her chair.
Carol Ann shocked Jilly by pouring herself a glass of wine from the bottle already on the table. "Prove it to her, Alicia."
Alicia's eyes pleaded with Carol Ann. "Don't."
"It's the only way. Go on. Show the skeptic what you can do."
"I don't do anything. It just happens."
Carol Ann finished the glass of wine. She poured herself a second glass. "Well, then let it happen."
"Please," Jillian said to Carol Ann. "Do help yourself."
"You hated your sister Marilyn for stealing your fiance'."
The people seated at the crowded table stared at Alicia then slowly turned to look at Jillian.
"Who told you that? Artie. What did you say to her?"
"Not a thing, Jilly."
"It wasn't him," Alicia said.
"Then how did you-"
"Your sister told me."
"My sister told you? My sister is-"
"Dead. I know. She told me that, too. She and the ex-lover--Barry--died in a trolley accident."
"You saw that in the newspaper."
"It happened eleven years ago. I was twelve growing up in Edgeville. I couldn't possibly have known."
A tear slipped from Jillian's eye. "I don't know how you're doing this, but when I find out..."
"I'm not doing anything. Your sister is telling me. Right now. As we sit here."
"My sister is not here."
"Sje's right behind you, whispering in your ear. Telling you she's sorry."
Jillian raised a hand to her neck. "It's just a draft."
"She says she knows you don't hate her as much as you hate yourself for not forgiving her when she was alive."
"Now you're just being cruel."
"I'm just telling you what she's saying."
Jillian stood. She ran from the dining room.
"Boom, there it is," Carol Ann said. She poured the last of the table bottle's contents into her glass.
Reasoner looked at Belinda. His administrative assistant followed Jillian. They passed Vittorio pushing a wine cart through the maze of people and tables.
"Will they be coming back, Mr. Reasoner?"
"I expect so, VVittorio."
The veteran sommelier opened the wines. Reasoner refused the cork but did sample the Reisling. Carol Ann knocked back her sample in a single gulp.
"Keep it coming, Vito."
"It is Vittorio." He poured, a bit dismayed at Carol Ann's behavior. Vittorio smiled to be polite before abandoning the group.
Embarrassed by her friend's behavior, Alicia spoke softly. "Slow down, Carol Ann."
"You're my friend, Alicia, not my mother. I don't get big nights like this as often sd I'd like. I'm going to live it up!"
Paul Cooley leaned back in his chair. "Who did kill the shop owner?"
"I don't know," Alicia said. "I'd need to be in the shop."
"That can probably be arranged."
Belinda returned alone. "I'm taking Jillian back to her apartment."
"How will you get home?" Reasoner asked.
"I'm a big kid, Artie. I'll get there just fine. Besides, have you not noticed? Mayor Tibbets has ordered extra police on the streets."
"Excuse me," Alicia said to Belinda."Would you tell your friend I was just telling her what I saw?"
"If it comes up, I'll try. She's still rather shaken up about it."
"You're going to miss the Swann Club," Paul said.
"So are you if you don't get her some black coffee." Belinda nodded at Carol Ann. She had passed out into her salad.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
At times, I felt like a director trying to get just the right shot. I exhausted around a dozen. credits trying to find the perfect reaction of Jilly and Belinda. I kept suggesting '1950s four women and two men at a table in a crowded restaurant in the style of...' and I would get a dozen people, some of them growing out of one another. I'd get three identical women, some with multiple limbs. Finally, I inputted '1950s jealous woman at restaurant' and boom, there it was--my perfect shot.
The story continues to grow organically. I'm not even opening the prose bot right now.
I returned to this chapter and added more images, and rearranged some of the paragraphs. I'm creating an elaborate world with a thin story. It's beginning to feel like a TV series, something Dick Wolfe would do with Chicago on Law and Order. I'm not sure that was the initial plan.
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