Fletch’s Moxie

weekend sometime in her life.

I am reminded now of all the thousands of nights I have left some theater somewhere, tired to the bones, and walked alone to some hotel, only perchance to sleep, wondering as I walked why such talents, such expertise, such energy is spent creating an illusion for a handful of people, for a few hours. What for? One can suspend reality, but never conquer it.

Thanks for having me.

Frederick Mooney

40

In the quiet house, Fletch went back downstairs, along the corridor, through the billiard room and into the small library at the back of the house.

He sat at the desk.

He called Chief of Detectives Roz Nachman’s telephone number and left the message asking her to return the call immediately upon her arrival.

He called Miami and enquired about the airplane he had chartered. It had already left. He asked the dispatcher to radio the pilot that now Fletch would need the airplane for a return flight to Fort Myers.

Then, for the first time, Fletch remembered that days before he had abandoned a rented car at Fort Myers airport. His luggage was still in the car.

Then he called Washington, D.C. Now was the time to see if Global Cable News would listen to just any barefoot boy with cheek who happened to have a story.

A woman answered, saying, “Good afternoon. Global News. May I help you?”

“Hello,” Fletch said. “My name is Armistad…”