The Investment - Part Two

(If you missed part one, it is available below this story on the blog)

Hear the story read by the author.

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Recently, a con man who called himself Gerald Huntsman III came to the church. Gerald claimed to be an investment manager who had come to Normal on behalf of a group of venture capitalists to organize financing for a start-up that owned the rights to a mysterious new technology which Gerald described in a flurry of meaningless terminology.

This mission was supposedly top secret, of course, but Del Winslow, a member of the church choir, and Pastor Henry O’Donnell had managed to weasel the details out of Gerald with surprisingly little effort one evening over a game of pool in Del’s rec room. Del, sensing an opportunity, begged Gerald to allow him to invest his life savings in the venture. Pastor O’Donnell wanted to invest as well, but his naturally skeptical wife Jennifer wouldn’t hear of it. Gerald finally relented and allowed Del to invest, admonishing everyone present that evening to keep the matter completely confidential.

Which is why Del was nearly apoplectic when he cornered the pastor during coffee hour the following Sunday.

“In the last twenty minutes five different people have told me about Gerald’s secret investment opportunity!” Del hissed. “Did you tell anyone?”

“No, of course not,” Henry said. “Well, Tammy. And Shane. And I might have mentioned something to Walter. But I swore all of them to absolute secrecy.”

Del buried his head in his hands. He felt like crying. “What will Gerald say? You might have jeopardized the whole thing!”

Gerald, of course, would have thanked the pastor. He was counting on the “secret” getting out. Every time someone approached him at coffee hour with that conspiratorial look in their eyes he knew he was about to make more money.

Meanwhile, Gerald had been charming a trio of older women from the church – Henrietta Miggins, Celia Simmons and Betsy Davis. He had become a regular at their Sunday afternoon tea, much to Celia and Betsy’s delight and Henrietta’s consternation. However, over a three week period he had also fixed Henrietta’s toilet, dragged some large furniture items down from her attic and shoveled her walkway several times – not to mention countless smaller chores like changing light bulbs and taking out the trash. So Henrietta tolerated the temporary male intrusion into the previously all-girl teas.

During that Sunday afternoon’s tea, after they’d gone through the routine criticism of the café’s scones which somehow still never went uneaten, Betsy said, “Gerald, I understand you’re handling some investments for members of the church.”

“Why yes,” Gerald replied. “A few of the nice folks here have asked to buy into the start-up for which I’m arranging financing. Why? Were you interested in investing?”

“Is it a sound investment,” Betsy asked.

“I think so,” Gerald replied. “In fact, I’ve put a good deal of my own money in it.”

“Well, if you’re that confident then it certainly must be worthwhile.”

“I would be delighted to include you,” Gerald said, then looked over at Celia. “How about you, Celia? Would you care to invest?”

Celia shook her head. “My son handles all my money,” she said.

“I see. And you?” Gerald asked Henrietta. From his time in her house doing odd jobs he knew the old bag was loaded. He was determined to get some reward for all the work he’d put in.

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” She said. “But I don’t believe this is an appropriate topic of discussion for tea. If I may change the subject, you won’t believe what I found when I went into the garage this morning. My Ford has two flat tires!”

“You never drive that thing anyway,” Celia snorted.

“Whether I drive it or not I like to keep it in good working order. I’m not operating a junk yard.”

“Would you like me to come over this evening and fix the tires?” Gerald asked.

“That would be very kind,” Henrietta replied. “Thank you. And while you’re there, perhaps you could help me change the filter on my central heat. It would give us a chance to talk more about this business venture of yours.”

“I’d be delighted,” Gerald said.

As Gerald gradually secured interest from two dozen members of the congregation, he gave each of them paperwork to look over and asked them to return it along with cashier’s checks on the final Sunday of the month. He warned them that in good conscious he couldn’t accept any money they couldn’t afford to lose. Which only caused everyone to promise an even larger investment.

Pastor O’Donnell was feeling pretty miserable as he watched Gerald collect paperwork and checks from a quarter of the congregation during coffee hour that final Sunday of the month. He tried once more to convince Jennifer to let him invest a few thousand dollars, offering to spend the proceeds on a luxurious vacation in Hawaii which he pitched to her as a second honeymoon, though in his mind it would be a golf getaway. Jennifer cut him off by pointing out that their bank was closed on Sundays so he couldn’t get a cashier’s check even if she relented.

The pastor tried to console himself with a brownie and the idea that the church offering plates would be well filled once his flock became incredibly wealthy. But it wasn’t much consolation.

Gerald, on the other hand, was feeling pretty good as he put the checks and paperwork into his briefcase. The checks were going into a private bank account and the paperwork was going into the trash. In three weeks Gerald would be long gone and the bank account closed.

He was a little annoyed to find that Henrietta was absent from church that day. After all the time he’d put in he felt she would have been good for at least a few grand.

Then Betsy walked up and handed him her paperwork and check. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m very excited to be a part of this.”

Gerald gave her a big, warm smile. It was only his years of con man experience that allowed him to maintain the smile when he looked down and discovered the check was for $100.

Gerald hadn’t done as well as he’d hoped, but he had still taken in over $200,000 by the time he said his goodbyes and made his way toward the door. That would be enough to lie low for at least a year before he had to find another church full of nice, naïve folks.

That’s when his plan went completely awry.

When he stepped outside he found a dozen policemen arrayed around the building. Henrietta Miggins was standing next to the commanding officer.

Within a few minutes the whole congregation had spilled out into the parking lot. “What’s going on?” Del bellowed as the police handcuffed Gerald and eased him into the back of a squad car.

“That man’s a con artist,” Henrietta said. I did a search for his company online and got all kinds of warnings. There are seven warrants out for his arrest. The police were very interested to hear from me.”

Del huffed and sputtered and wondered why he hadn’t bothered to check Gerald out online himself. He tried very hard not to think about how long he’d worked to save up the money he had intended to bet on the phony investment.

The congregation erupted in a panic of accusation, confusion and gossip. In the middle of the chaos, Pastor O’Donnell crossed his arms and nodded sagely. “I knew it,” he said. “His whole pitch never sounded quite right to me.” Jennifer O’Donnell, who was standing next to him, just rolled her eyes and went back inside.

And Henrietta was happy to realize that her tea would be free of any masculine intrusion that afternoon.