The Tale of the Dragonfly

Shelia sat staring at the little green dragonfly ornament projecting up from behind the marigolds in an old pot. Her expression was blank, she didn’t move, the only sound in the room was of her subtle breathing as she sat at her kitchen table. Her eyes were transfixed on the dragonfly, but her mind circulated around the object.
The dragonfly had been in her life for thirty years, more or less. She had gone with her mother to a green house when she was just seven years old. Her mother examined pansies and begonias while Shelia wandered off looking at everything else the green house had to offer. She lent quick glances to pots of all shapes and sizes, all different types of seeds, garden gnomes and other various lawn ornaments. She stopped abruptly when she came to the dragonfly. It was small, green with yellow stripes, mesh wings wrapped around thin steel frames, two spiral wire antennas and a long metal rod to penetrate soil.
The dragonfly was in a bucket with a variety of other insects. There was only one dragonfly mixed in with a sea of butterflies, grasshoppers, caterpillars and fireflies. She picked out the dragonfly and ran it up to her mom. She tugged on her dress and her mother looked down into the wide, puppy dogs eyes.
“Mommy,” Shelia begged “Can I get this?”
Her mother smiled, scanned the item for a price tag and replied “Yes, darling, that’s fine.” Shelia’s apprehension turned to joy and a big smile grew from ear to ear. Her mother smiled too and went back to picking through flowers.
Shelia awoke from her reverie, somewhat disoriented from the lucid flashback. She still sat at the table, but her eyes moved away from the dragonfly quickly. Her eyes welled up with tears and her apathetic expression turned to a look of heavy pain. Her mother was gone and this dragonfly now represented the travesties committed against the family. Shelia let her arms catch her head as it fell to the table. The site of the dragonfly was almost too much to bear.
Shelia’s mother met an unfortunate demise. Homicide was printed on the coroner’s report with no leads to any suspects, but Shelia knew the truth. Her mother’s house sat on a prime piece of real estate in the growing suburban regions of Chicago. Week by week more and more houses in the neighborhood were being purchased and tore down by investors to build shopping malls, fast food restaurants and parking lots. Her mother told her of all the offers she had gotten for the house and how she would not sell under any circumstances. She had lived there all her life and could not see moving.
Shelia recalled a conversation she had with her mother a few days before her murder. Her mother told her of a wealthy business man who constantly pressured her to sell her estate. Day after day he called her and harassed her, but she remained strong and refused any offer, despite the amounts of wealth. Finally, the business man, Ronald Plunk, lost patience and demanded the house be sold today or appropriate measures would be taken. Shelia’s mother was startled and right before she hung up the phone, uttered the words “over my dead body.”
Her mother’s words rang eerily in her ears as she lifted her head off the table and wiped the tears from her face. She stared blankly at the dragonfly once again, this time with a look of spite in her eyes. She was convinced Plunk murdered her mother. She didn’t have any proof, other than the gut feeling that clenched and tore at her from the inside. She knew the police wouldn’t find the right guy, Plunk had enough money to side step any law in existence. Shelia had had too much anguish for the night and desperately needed rest. She rose from her chair and walked to the living room where she collapsed on the couch and quickly drifted into sleep, tossing and turning frequently throughout the night as though haunted by some thought or idea.
Shelia awoke the next morning with a cloudy head. It was nine o’clock in the morning and she wiped the sleep out of her eyes as she positioned herself on her hindquarters on the couch. She sat for moment in thought, staring no place in particular, aptly contained in herself. She sighed and leaned back, she was struggling with something in her head, seemingly trying to convince herself one way or the other.
“Coffee,” she said aloud, “that is all I need to wake up.”
She found her keys by the door and made her way to her car parked in her driveway. Shelia thought about her situation with Mr. Plunk as she drove down the road to Starbucks. She needed to find some sort of solace in this situation, one way or the other, or she could never move on. Her mother’s funeral was only three days earlier and Shelia knew she should still be sunk well within the grieving process, but the only feeling she felt was rage, not towards her mother, but Plunk. She just wanted him to be brought to justice and to realize he is not above the law. She pulled into the drive through and placed her order. She thought about approaching Plunk and confronting him to his face. “Where would that get me?” she thought to herself, “He is a rich and powerful man, he obviously already knows how to lie and deceive. He would just brush me aside and that would be it.”
She handed her money through the window and got a cup of coffee in return. She took a sip as she turned onto the road and towards her mother’s old house. “Maybe I could take legal action against him,” Shelia now thought, “But that would he hopeless, he has the resources for the best lawyers in the world. Not to mention he made sure the deed couldn’t be traced back to him, he probably never even met my mother face to face.”
Shelia turned the corner towards her mother’s old house. She immediately saw construction equipment, but had grown accustomed to the site as the neighborhood has become a concrete landscape. Her rage grew exponentially as she neared the house. The wrecking ball swung back as she pulled within a few houses. The ball swung forward and struck the old house with a crunch that crippled Shelia. It was though the wrecking ball was sent straight for her heart. She squeezed her cup of coffee in rage, the lid popped off coffee splashed over her denim jeans. She paid no attention to the coffee on her leg and focused on the house she grew up in being demolished to the ground. Her knuckles were white with rage and she clung to the steering wheel. “This is it,” she thought “that bastard Plunk is going to pay.”
She could barely remember anything from the drive from her mother’s to Poncho’s Ol’ Saloon, the corner bar managed by her long time friend Manny Rodriguez. Poncho’s wasn’t typically the scene for Shelia. It was a rough and tumble place, bar brawls typically signified closing time, the beer was cheap, the liquor was cheaper and the company was even shadier. It was best not to get to know the patrons too well, or you would probably become the accomplice of some crime committed or about to be committed, but it was early and the place was empty aside from Manny and a few women giggling in the back room.
“Manny, I don’t know what to do, this Plunk character is going to be the death of me.” Said Shelia as she removed a cigarette from her case and searched her purse for a lighter.
“You still think Plunk was behind it, huh?” replied Manny, lighting a match and holding it up to Shelia’s cigarette. “Shelia, relax, the police will find the killer.”
“Not if it’s Plunk.” She said sternly “I know it was that guy, it’s been less than a week than she died and her house is already gone. The motive is obvious, but he is too rich to touch, there is no way he will ever get what he deserves.”
Manny finished pouring liquid into a glass and slid it towards Shelia. “I don’t know what to tell you,” said Manny “You’ve got your mind set, there is no way to change it, how do you plan to deal with this?”
“I want him dead” she sharply stated. Manny paused for a moment, then slowly went back to wiping down the bar. “I need him dead” she said again, this time almost demanding. “Manny, this is the only way this can end. There needs to be justice, someone needs to put everything in its right place. How many people has this guy trampled over? How many lives has he wrecked just to earn another penny? This pig must be slaughtered, for the good of all.”
“Do you realize what you’re saying?” replied Manny, showing more emotion than Shelia has ever seen. He had put his rag down and stood leaning over the bar towards Shelia. “You are talking about murder, Shelia, cold blooded murder. You don’t even know if this guy is really behind it.”
“I know.” Shelia said without hesitation. “I know it was him and I know what has to be done. Can you help me or not?”
“Come on, don’t drag me into this” begged Manny. He looked into Shelia’s eyes. Her face was paralyzed with severity. She said nothing and simply stared at Manny. “You really want to do this?” he asked with finality. Shelia didn’t move. “Fine, come back at eleven, there will be a man dressed in black, he will be sitting alone at the table in the back. He is your guy, talk to him, I have nothing else to say.” Manny turned his back and started wiping down anything he could that didn’t face Shelia.
Shelia finished her drink and extinguished her cigarette. She stood up and walked to the door. Just as she reached the door Manny spoke up “You’ll want to bring some money.”
“Thanks” she replied simply. She pushed open the door and stepped into the morning sun.

….to be continued…..