EATON'S During The 1960's Second French Revolution

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The morning had been extraordinarily hectic. Ricky had handled yet another evacuation and search; following another bomb threat. This one began with the discovery of a crudely written note, left on a table in the luncheonette.

However, this threat was different, since all the other threats had been telephoned into the MPD, or directly into the Eaton's store. As a result, this threat required that the search be more cautious and more intense. But fortunately, once again, the bomb threat proved to be false.

At 1:20 P.M., after having his lunch, and having time before the weekly manager's meeting, Ricky entered the manager's lounge for a scheduled cribbage game with Randy Ballencourt, the boats and sporting goods manager.

Ricky took a seat across from Randy and acknowledged two other managers in the lounge.

"Hey Randy...ready to help out with my vacation fund? Ricky kidded.

"It's time someone clipped your wings, Grasshopper," Jason Crocker, main floor sundries department manager responded.

As Randy dealt the cards, he asked, "So you heard...?"

"Heard what?" Ricky asked, placing the pegs at the start of the cribbage board.

"Old Al Simms bit the bullet this weekend?"

Ricky found himself disoriented. He couldn't believe what he'd just been told. "That's

impossible! I just made arrangements with him to go to an A.A. meeting this week," he exclaimed, loudly.

"Sorry, I would have thought you had heard!" Randy responded, taken back by Ricky's shocked reaction. "Damn, I thought you knew. Alan was discovered dead in his apartment last night. Apparently, the cause of death was alcohol poisoning. Tony Cartwright told me that the cops said there were liquor bottles everywhere, and the whole apartment looked and smelled like a disaster area. They said that by the number of bottles he had accumulated around his bed, they believe he purposely drank himself to death, so they're ruling it a suicide. Christ Ricky, I'm so sorry, I really thought you knew." he stammered.

Ricky's, eyes glazed over with tears. He got up from the table and paced the room in silence.

Randy's eyes followed his every move.

"Goddamn it! I just talked to Alan a couple of weeks ago and he laid out his whole miserable life. I should have followed up with him..., I shoulda'...." Ricky's voice faded.

"Don't blame yourself," Randy consoled. "Since his wife passed away Alan had gone downhill. I really truly believe that he didn't want to live anymore, without her."

"Well, he got his bloody wish, didn't he?" Ricky said, kicking the base of the table.

"Yeah, I guess he did," Randy responded quietly.

Abruptly, Ricky headed for the door, "I'm sorry. I gotta' go. I'll see you at the managers' meeting at two!" He didn't wait for a reply.

For the next half-hour, Ricky sat in the empty boardroom, going over and over, his conversation with Alan, and chastising himself for not being more proactive with helping him out. Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered fond memories of the Alan of years gone by; the Alan who was always joking and the life of the party. And, he thought of his love and devotion for his family and how his life revolved around family. He also reflected on the Alan who would give you the shirt off his back.

Ricky quickly wiped the tears, as he heard voices approaching the boardroom.

Uncharacteristically, Ricky sat in a daze throughout the full one-hour, "Bound for Success" meeting; neither contributing, nor commenting on anything.

After the meeting Ricky returned to his office to do some paperwork, but just couldn't get his head around Alan's suicide.

He called Radford's secretary and advised her he would be out of the building for the rest of the day.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting alone at his favorite table in the 727 lounge of the Place Ville Marie, staring aimlessly over his city, while contemplating the fragility of life and comparing the strife in his own life with that of his late good friend, Alan Simms.

Damn, I shoulda' been there for him!