Chapter 11 –
The Aftermath
It was a
chilly fall day when Fred stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall
toward his new office. A lot had happened over the past several months.
Mayor
McNaught had apologized for his inappropriate conduct during the last
re-election campaign. The city solicitor had decided not to take any action
against him. He was overwhelmingly so well liked and continued to do so much
for the city that this slight indiscretion could be forgiven.
The trials
of George Jenson and Barnard Olshevski had been surprisingly swift and
predictable in outcome. With both men testifying against each other there was
no question of their guilt. They had each been found guilty and were now
serving life sentences in separate prisons.
Elizabeth
Olshevski had been the recipient of much sympathy. She had also finally made
the decision to seek a divorce from Barnard and it had been granted. With that
burden lifted, her creative juices had begun flowing and she had published not
one, but two additional mystery novels over the summer. Still writing under the
Betty Rubble pseudonym, no one questioned that her latest book was dedicated to
Fred Flintstone. That remained a private joke between the two of them.
The board of
directors of Jeremy Spencer’s venture capital company had reorganized. Absent
the presence of George Jenson, they had hired a new director to help guide
their investments. The university had denied any knowledge of George’s
escapades and they were now seeking a new person to head their diversity
office.
But the
biggest change was in Fred’s career. Bolstered not only by a generous infusion
of cash, anonymously of course, from Elizabeth Olshevski, Fred was making the
move to a new spacious office. It was not only air-conditioned, but had two
rooms – an outer room for his new receptionist/assistant, and an inner one for
himself. George had supervised the purchase and placement of the furnishings. In
his inner office he had kept the battered wooden desk – that just held too many
memories of his past. But the metal bookcase had been discarded and replaced
with a mahogany bookcase and a new file cabinet that now held all his manila
folders. The bookcase held not only his law books, but the top shelf had a
complete set of the Betty Rubble mystery series – each personally engraved on
the title page by “Betty Rubble” herself.
Fred’s old
wooden visitor chair had been replaced with a matching pair of comfortable
padded ones, but he still retained his high-backed leather chair. The pencil
sharpener and coffee pot were now on the cadenza behind his assistant’s desk in
the outer room. This room also held a comfortable couch for those waiting to
see him – with the fabric matching that on the padded chairs in his inner
office.
Fred had
also decided to upgrade his use of technology. Taking center stage on his desk
was a docking station for his laptop that also connected to a large screen
monitor and a full-sized keyboard. No more squinting at the laptop screen while
doing his research. And no more plugging in and unplugging his laptop when he needed
it. The final object in his inner office was that trusty fan – not that he
needed it for cooling now that he had air conditioning, but he had gotten used
to the gentle breeze while working. The fan was on top of the new filing cabinet
as there were no more wide windowsills in this new building.
Fred had enlisted
the aid of Jennifer in locating someone who could make him a professional
website befitting his new status as a well-known member of his profession. And
Marvin Jones had been good to his word and, when appropriate, had recommended him
to others.
Fred had asked
Jennifer if she would be willing to leave O’Brien’s and come work full-time for
him. She had politely declined as she liked the variety of work at O’Brien’s.
But when Fred asked if she had any recommendations for someone else to fill
that role, she offered to locate one for him. There had been a twinkle in her
eye as she said this.
Arriving at
the door of his new office, Fred stopped for a moment to admire the gold-leaf
writing on the door – “Frederick F. Forchelli, Investigator and Attorney”. Reaching
for the doorknob, he was surprised to find it already unlocked. His new assistant
that Jennifer had picked out must have already arrived. He opened the door and
was greeted by the attractive young woman seated at the desk. “Welcome, Mr.
Forchelli,” she said, “I’m your new assistant, Wilma.”
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