§ § § -- July 14, 1993
"For cryin' out loud, I don't remember it bein' this far to the main house," Alphonse griped, struggling to keep up with the longer strides of Cornelius. "How much more we got to go before we get there?"
"Oh, it's not that far," Cornelius said. "I can't believe you almost told those two brats that Tattoo outmaneuvered us the last time we came here. What were you thinking?"
"I must be tired from all the flying," Alphonse offered, panting. "Slow down, chief, I can't walk as fast as you."
"Right," Cornelius said and reduced his speed a little, then stopped altogether. "I just thought of something. Suppose Roarke remembers…?"
Alphonse halted beside him and squinted up at him. "Aw, come on, chief, it's been 14 years. Roarke's memory can't be that good. Look, you want his advice or not? Isn't that what you dragged me all the way back to this benighted place for?"
Cornelius shot him a black look. "Get going," he said and began to stride forward once more. They rounded a bend in the Ring Road and came upon the duck pond, on the other side of which they could see the main house. "Aha, there it is."
"About time," grumbled Alphonse. They both broke into a trot and soon had climbed the steps, crossed the veranda and let themselves into the outer foyer. Alphonse went right ahead and pounded with considerable force on the inner-foyer door.
From within they heard an annoyed "Yes?" Alphonse threw the door open, and he and Cornelius came into the inner foyer, pausing to take in Roarke's study. From their point of view, the furniture had been shifted and much of it replaced, and they peered around the room curiously. Once they had finished their perusal of the office, they found Roarke and Leslie staring at them in disbelief.
"Cornelius Kelly, what are you doing here?" Roarke asked incredulously.
Leslie had a somewhat different question; vivid memories had flooded her mind the moment she'd seen Cornelius and Alphonse. "How under the sun did you two ever get onto this island?" she demanded severely. "You should never have been allowed this far: you have to have passes for the charter plane."
Cornelius Kelly smiled at her. "We bribed somebody," he said readily, with no shame whatsoever. He stepped into the study and took a really good look at her, his ruddy Irish face going slack with astonishment. "My heavens, you can't be that same little girl we met all those years ago! Mr. Roarke, your little ward grew up amazingly beautiful."
Roarke raised an eyebrow; Leslie snorted. "Still dripping charm, I see," she observed and extended a hand, palm up. "Hand over the passes, guys, right now."
"Not quite so timid as you once were, either," Alphonse noted, digging into his pocket and forking over his pass. Cornelius shrugged amiably and gave his over with good grace.
"I repeat," Roarke said, "what are you doing here?"
Cornelius cleared his throat and explained, while Leslie tucked the passes away and relocked the drawer in which Roarke kept them. "Well, actually, Mr. Roarke, I wanted to ask you for some advice." He took an uninvited seat in one of the club chairs; Alphonse hoisted himself into the other and swung his feet restlessly back and forth. "I figured you were the best person to come to, under the circumstances."
Roarke eyed him, quite on his guard despite Cornelius' apparent sincerity. "About what, exactly, would I be advising you?"
"Well." Cornelius settled himself more comfortably in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and absently waggled the foot that wasn't on the floor. "I just came into a substantial inheritance about a month or so ago, and I decided to buy myself a little tropical island. It had been up for sale for years, and I understand there's already a charming cottage on it. I've decided to call it Kelly's Jewel, and I'd like to open it up as an exclusive resort for the rich. Of course I'm not entirely sure how I should go about making a success out of it, so I immediately thought of you. You've made such a worldwide hit with your Fantasy Island, I felt there wouldn't be anyone on earth better qualified to tell me how I could make a go of my own project."
"Inheritance, hm?" Roarke murmured and studied him. "Forgive me for being so crass as to mention this…but I might remind you of a little debt you have yet to pay off."
Cornelius blinked at him, then turned to Alphonse with a ferocious scowl. "And you said his memory couldn't be that good," he growled. Alphonse shrugged sheepishly; Roarke and Leslie traded amused looks. After leveling a fiery glare on Alphonse, Cornelius inhaled deeply and turned back to Roarke. "Yes, that. Uh, well, I tell you what, Mr. Roarke. If you'll be so good as to advise me, I can get my resort opened and in business, and once I've got the clients pouring in, I can write out a check for the final amount in full."
Roarke's expression grew thoughtful; but before he could make any comment, Leslie spoke up, determined to protect her father's interests. "Uh-uh," she said firmly. "Straight cash, Mr. Kelly. No checks, no money orders, no credit cards, no vouchers and no IOUs. Cash. Got me?" Cornelius stared at her in amazement.
"Thank you, Leslie," Roarke said, amused. "Yes, indeed, Cornelius, considering the nature and age of the debt in question, I must insist on cash. And I'm afraid I must also insist that you pay off your debt to me now, since this is a purely speculative venture."
Alphonse sighed. "I told you this was never gonna work, chief."
"Quiet, Alphonse," Cornelius warned. "Come on, Mr. Roarke, you're a reasonable sort of guy, aren'tcha? I mean, you know I've always told everyone how fair you are…
"I think that's quite fair," said Roarke.
"Since when have I ever deceived you?" Cornelius demanded, then held up his hands when he saw Roarke and Leslie open their mouths to answer simultaneously. "Uh, let me rephrase that. How 'bout this. I truly have seen the error of my previous ways, Mr. Roarke, and I've turned over a new leaf. I've reformed, and I'm on the straight and narrow." Even Alphonse rolled his eyes at this. "I want nothing more than to conduct a legitimate business, and that's just why I've come to you for help."
"The money first," said Leslie implacably.
Cornelius began to look a little desperate. "But…well, I have a little problem. Y'see, after I bought Jewel, I kinda ran out of money."
"I bet you did," Leslie said dryly. "What do you have to prove you're telling the truth about this island you supposedly bought?"
Cornelius stared at her again, then plaintively at Roarke. "What'd you do to this kid to make her so cruel?" he whined and sighed melodramatically. "Okay, okay. You drive a hard bargain, but okay." He reached into an inside pocket of his worn brown jacket and extracted a folded paper. "This is the deed to Kelly's Jewel. You can hold it till I get the money together. How's that for a show of good faith?"
Impressed despite herself, Leslie could only shrug, watching her father reach across the desk and accept the page from Cornelius. Roarke settled back in his chair, unfolded the paper and began to read it. Leslie peered over his shoulder, skimming the fine print on the document and eyeing the collection of signatures at the bottom, her suspicions returning. "It might be a forgery, Father," she said.
At that Alphonse jumped out of his chair with a look of outrage. "Hey, you just watch yourself, missy," he commanded sharply. "That happens to be a genuine legal document with all the necessary signatures and notarizations. It's the real thing, and if you look a little more carefully, you'll see my name on it as a witness."
Roarke perused the signatures. "So it is," he said. "However, Leslie does have a point, and I intend to check with the proper authorities to be certain this is not a fraud." He looked up in time to meet Cornelius' indignant stare. "It's as much for your protection as mine, Cornelius, so I wouldn't object too loudly if I were you."
Cornelius and Alphonse looked at each other. "Well, I guess that makes sense," Cornelius conceded after a moment. "Okay then. What happens in the meantime?"
"Well, it's midweek, so we have plenty of accommodations," Roarke said. "I suggest the two of you check into a hotel room, and take the afternoon to relax. When I have heard from all quarters in regard to your new acquisition, I'll send for you."
"Sounds like a good deal to me," Alphonse said eagerly. "I'm dyin' for some lunch, and then I'm gonna have me a nice long swim. I deserve it after all the flights we made."
"How many flights did you make?" Leslie asked, curious in spite of herself.
"Five," Alphonse informed her dauntingly. "We came in from New York City, and it was a chronic case of you-can't-get-there-from-here. We hadda change planes so many times, I never want to see another airport as long as I live. First Atlanta, then Chicago, then L.A. and then Honolulu. And I'm tellin' ya, they don't serve proper meals on airplanes anymore…like they ever really did, actually. You used to at least get cardboard food, now all you get is cardboard pretzels. And there was a screaming baby on every flight except the last one. That one, there was a seven-year-old brat with a smart mouth…"
"Alphonse—" Cornelius broke in wearily. "Come on, let's go so Mr. Roarke can check up on my deed and we can get this thing started." He arose and stuck out his hand at Roarke. "I really appreciate this, Mr. Roarke."
Roarke shook his hand, looking slightly dubious. "You're welcome, Cornelius."
When they were gone, he and Leslie looked at each other, and she suddenly broke into laughter. "Those two haven't changed much. There's some extra gray in their hair, but they're still the same two down-and-outers."
"So it would appear," Roarke said, smiling. "I believe Cornelius owned that jacket in the early seventies when he worked at the hotel, and they both looked much the worse for wear—even if it was in fact due merely to the flights of which Alphonse was complaining." They both laughed. "Why don't you check with the kitchen about lunch later, and I'll make a few telephone calls."
