Fiammetta's Triumph: Villa Paradiso, #3

By Ted Atoka

Four college grads take charge of the daily operations of a life-care retirement center called Villa Paradiso. Working under the guidance of the two founders, they quickly find out that keeping pace with the residents is hard work and they must learn to cope with issues not found in college textbooks. Just when they think they have a handle on everything, a threat appears on their financial horizon. If left unchecked, it can spell complete disaster for the entire retirement community. Villa Paradiso, the brainchild of founders Fiammetta Shaidy and Betty Greenfield, is in jeopardy. The two retired businesswomen rally the college grads, and turn up the heat. They hatch a plan to protect and preserve their state-of-the-art life-care retirement facility. Warning: The content of this book is addictive and may result in frequent bouts of laughter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Huntington House Press
• Release date: Sep 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386533917

Ted Atoka

Ted Atoka lived the first half of his life in Boston, MA. He made a Christmas visit to friends in Oklahoma in 1981, and fell in love with country life. Five weeks after returning home—to a raging snow storm, he packed up and moved to OK. He and his wife live on a piece of land on the side of a dirt road. They share the fresh air with a peacock named Penelope, two dogs, a small herd of deer, and a feral cat.

Book preview

The Truth Hurts

Isaiah Shaidy, attorney at law, locked his gaze on his mother Fiammetta’s narrowed eyes. Dammit, he thought, she had the ability to see into his soul even over a Skype connection. He sat at attention and listened while her words flew at him. What she said made him blink, and his right cheek twitched in counterpoint.

"You are a 42-year-old graduate of a prestigious law school, Isaiah Shaidy, and you haven’t yet earned the right to be a pimple on the ass of a court bailiff. Your name alone adds credence to the public perception of a legal shyster. You are crooked, and I cringe when I remember the day I brought you into this world.

Since your last failed underhanded attempt to shut down Villa Paradiso’s expansion program, I have spread the word far and wide. You are not to step foot on the grounds of Villa Paradiso, ever. You are barred from this property for life.

The image on Isaiah’s screen exploded into particles of digital dust. The attorney reached for the whiskey glass he’d positioned out of his mother’s view.

****

Betty Greenfield, cofounder of Villa Paradiso and Fiammetta’s longtime friend and confidant, said, At least Isaiah knows you found out he tried to keep us from getting the land that abuts Villa Paradiso. What a low-life thing to do, Fi-Fi.

Yes, Betty, but that isn’t what really bothers me. It upsets him that our dream of building a state-of-the-art retirement facility has come true. I feel that he’s trying to find a way to outdo us. It’s either that or he wants to do everything in his power to bring us down and smash our dream to pieces. He frightens me. I lie awake nights just wondering what steps he’ll take to make our lives miserable.

Fret not, babe. Let’s go. Jim and Tom are probably wondering where we are. Let’s not keep them waiting too long.

****

Tom Smithers, retired bull rider and Betty’s significant other, looked up at a man who wore a white shirt and bow tie. James Bond, Tom’s friend and Fi-Fi’s one-armed beau, sat at a large round table in Villa Paradiso’s lounge. They listened intently while the head barman recounted an incident with a resident. The two white-haired men sat still and nodded periodically.

"I kid you not, gentlemen, when Del finally recalled the rest of the story, he and Tippy Palmer rushed back into the lounge and told me the whole thing. Here’s what happened:

Burleigh Crank spent weeks teaching his new retriever how to fetch.

The barman stopped for a moment and waved to a man placing three cartons by the door of the lounge’s storeroom.

That’s our apricot juice for the new drink we’re developing. He smiled in the delivery man’s direction. Thanks, Harry. See you next trip.

He turned his attention back to Tom and Jim. "Burleigh’s dog never caught on until the day Crank decided to clean out a coyote den he found on his property.

He and his retriever stopped behind a stone wall about 25 yards from the den. He pulled a stick of dynamite from his canvas jacket, lit the fuse, and heaved the banger, hard as he could, toward the coyote’s den.

Jim’s mouth opened, and Tom’s eyebrows arched. The barman continued.

The dog leaped over the wall, ran like the wind, and picked up the dynamite.

What happened next? asked Tom.

"Well, this is the part that ol’ Del couldn’t remember. And it’s the best part of the whole story. The damn dog comes flying back and drops the stick of dynamite at Burleigh’s feet.

He bends over and sees that the fuse is gone and nothin’s sputterin’...so he picks it up and puts it in a big pocket in the back of his canvas jacket.

Jim clucked his tongue. That’s it? That’s the end of the story?

"Oh, hell no. Burleigh pats the dog’s head and, when they get back to his vehicle, takes off his jacket and tosses it in the back of the Jeep. Nature’s calling, so he walks a short distance away and finds a good spot to empty his bladder.

He and the retriever get roadside, and the moment Burleigh unzips and lets loose, the blast from his exploding Jeep almost knocks him off his feet. He staggers a bit, remains upright, and pisses all over the dog.

A voice from the doorway asked, What kind of mischief are you guys planning now?

The barman sprang from his chair. Good evening Mrs. Shaidy, Mrs. Greenfield. Please have a seat.

****

Dinner conversation centered around Fi-Fi’s Skype discussion with her son.

Jim, Betty, and Tom convinced Fiammetta that for now, they needn’t worry about Isaiah. Villa Paradiso was running smoothly. It was lauded as a state-of-the-art retirement facility. Isaiah’s attempt to keep it from expanding had failed. He lost, and it was time for him to get over it.

When their peach cobbler arrived, Fi-Fi said, The architect’s plans are complete and were accepted as a package by the powers that be. We have the green light to begin construction on phase two. We’ll use our existing land, plus part of the new parcel, and build the commercial buildings we want, right here on our campus.

Betty, a dab of whipped cream riding on her upper lip, added, I just hope that one of the first places built is a hair salon. Hell, it’ll be great to walk a short distance and get myself all done up...our resident ladies will appreciate that.

Fi-Fi, her dessert finished, folded her napkin and leaned back in her seat. Well, something else has come up. It’s important, but I don’t want to discuss it tonight. When I get upstairs, I’m going to call Ted, Grazia, Joe, Yvette, and Ronnie Platt. I’d like us all to meet for coffee in the gazebo tomorrow morning. This issue affects us all, including our residents. I don’t know if my son is behind it, but we sure need to talk about it.

Damn straight we’ll be there, Fi-Fi, Betty said. When I get back home, I’ll call Pee-Wee and ask him to have one of his staff send around Danish pastries, doughnuts, and an urn of coffee.

Chester Brown, aka Pee-Wee, was the head of Villa Paradiso’s food service department, and he was always willing to do anything in his power to satisfy the wishes of the facility’s cofounders.

Chapter 2

Virtual Hijinks

Fiammetta, an early riser, sipped coffee in the quiet gazebo. The airy structure was located by a duck pond behind the main building. It was about an hour after sunrise, and she savored this time of the morning, alone.

Voices came from the walking trail, along with the sound of a squeaky wheel. After a minute of listening, she could make out the words of a conversation coming her way and looked up. Two people were moving along the walkway.

The elderly woman turned her head and looked at the young girl pushing her wheelchair. I broke my big toe when I kicked that sucker’s crystal balls.

The girl failed at hiding a smile. You did what, Mrs. Tibbetts?

He carried a sack of baseball paperweights in his hand, each a solid piece of crystal. I thought the son of a bitch was attacking me. Little did he know 22 years ago I took lessons in self-defense. I aimed a sweeping kick at his face, and he blocked it with his balls. My damn toe still hurts, and the doc said the cast needs to stay on for about two weeks. I hate being confined to this damnable wheelchair.

Fiammetta smiled and waved when she saw them. Hi, Mrs. Tibbetts. Where’re you off to now?

We’re on our way to feed the ducks. Do you think we can have an Irish pub as part of the expansion program, Fi-Fi?

Sure is something to think about, Mrs. Tibbetts. We can put it to our residents and let ’em vote on it.

Okay. See you later. We can’t keep our feathered buddies waiting. Oh, by the way, last weekend I swear I saw a giant parrot bouncing along with the ducks. I was hoping they’d trot over to me for something to eat, but when the ducks got close to the water, the parrot loped off into the bushes. Just thought I’d tell you. Be on the lookout for that parrot. Okay, push on, Kari, crank this baby up.

****

Forty-five minutes later, all had arrived. Ronnie Platt, James Bond, Tom Smithers, and Villa Paradiso’s department heads Ted Bliss, Yvette Sutton, Betty Greenfield, and cousins Grazia and Joe Ricci. Pee-Wee had also come and gone, leaving behind an urn of coffee, a selection of Danish pastries, doughnuts, and a tray of sliced cantaloupe and strawberries.

Betty took a large swallow of coffee and said, Okay, Fi-Fi, time to spill it. What’s up? Why are we here?

First I want to thank you all for joining me. We need to discuss something without fear of being overheard. An unknown individual has hacked into Villa Paradiso’s computer system. Everyone is at risk, including our residents and each one of us. I’m talking about all facility computers, as well as all of our personal computers. I’m not sure if the residents’ stuff is at risk yet. I certainly hope not. I need to know which way to turn for help and thought I’d ask you for some ideas.

Ted said, Computer hacking is serious AND illegal. Somehow, and I really don’t know how, Fi-Fi, we gotta stop the hacker dead in his tracks.

Well, from what I hear, that ain’t an easy task, Betty said. That’s worse’n somebody peeking at you through a pinhole in a stall in the ladies’ room.

Ronnie nodded. And a tremendous amount of financial data is stored in VP’s system.

Grazia, with a slice of cantaloupe in hand, said, I’ll ask around and see if any of our residents have had any unusual issues with their computers. I’ll be discreet in my inquiries.

Dammit, Betty roared, we need our own hacker who can hack back into the hacker’s program and hack him to pieces. All eyes went toward her. What the hell did I just say anyway? Did that make any sense at all?

Ronnie rose from his chair. It sure did, Betty. You just gave me a revelation. A super idea. And I think I know just the person who can help. Let me go upstairs to look for his name. Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll meet you all back here.

****

25 minutes later, after another round or two of pastries and coffee refills to match, Ronnie walked back to the gazebo.

"Success, folks. I called a friend of mine, Nelson Ouelette. He’s a retired police detective I knew when I lived in Boston. He’s associated with a firm called Bean Town Investigations.

Whenever I lectured in the Boston area, I’d get together for dinner with Nelson and a friend of his named Matthew. We made it a point to hook up a few times a month. Matthew is a computer scientist. Anyway, now I have Matthew’s phone number...and if I can reach him, I might be able to convince him to help us out. But first, I need to track him down.

Fi-Fi applauded softly. Good work, Ronnie. Where does he live, and how soon can he get here?

Ronnie chuckled. Well, according to the information I just got, he lives on a sailboat that’s docked at a slip near Huntington Beach, California. I don’t know if he’s still on it, though.

We need this hacking business resolved now, Ronnie. If this fellow knows his stuff, I’d like to get him here right away. If he’s free, tell him we’ll have our helicopter pick him up. He can stay in one of our model apartments while we sort things out. And you can tell him that there’ll be 5K, in cash, waiting for him in the chopper just for coming to visit.

Ronnie tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash. I’ll do what I can, Fi-Fi, and I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything to report. I’ll begin making calls now. See you later.

Okay, that’s it, then, said Ted. And since worrying won’t help, let’s all get back to business. We have work waiting for us and a bit of snooping to get done.

Chapter 3

Dr. Compucode

Matthew T. Atherton dozed. The bill of his denim ball cap shaded his closed eyes. Two flight attendants sat in the rear of the chopper’s cabin and chatted softly.

"I knew I knew him, Janine. My husband was a student in one of his classes at USC. He’s a friggin’ genius in the computer world. Billy said people in his class called him Dr. Compucode."

Janine beamed. I don’t know a whole lot about that stuff, just enough to use my laptop. But for an old guy, he’s sure well put together.

Yeah. His wife was a flight instructor, and her last trip ended in about a thousand pieces. He’s lived aboard their sailboat ever since; no kids either. That’s probably why he’s so tanned and crinkly skinned. And my GOD, he has the most beautiful clear blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

He’s a bookworm, too. I told him he could go into the terminal coffee shop or walk around during our stops. All he said was that he’s reading a good book and would stay aboard.

"Yeah. He has a Kindle. He told me that he’s reading Stories from the Side of a Dirt Road. It’s by a guy who lives in Oklahoma."

****

The chopper landed on a permanent helipad. A door whispered open, and a ramp folded downward to the pavement. Matthew Atherton walked to a waiting bus and boarded, and the maroon vehicle whisked him to the front entry of the life-care retirement facility.

Three hours later, he sat in a comfortable wing chair in a lovely room in Fiammetta’s apartment. Before we go any further, Fi-Fi, I need to return this. And he handed her a manila envelope that contained $5,000.

"This isn’t necessary, Fi-Fi. I’ll make a confession. I came to Villa Paradiso for three reasons. One, it’s been too long since I’ve seen my old friend Ronnie Platt. Two, I’m always thrilled to get a chance to ride in a helicopter. And three, I love to track and destroy those who make illegal use of the internet. And now that I’m here, I’m blown away by the splendor of this place.

No, Fi-Fi, you keep the cash. If I decide to take on your project, the only payment I’ll require is a donation to my wife’s favorite charity. Now...tell me more about your problem.

Fi-Fi clapped her hands softly. "You know what, Matthew, I think you’re going