By Gretchen E. K. Engel
I pop in an earbud and settle into my rideshare from O’Hare. The latest episode of my favorite podcast, Good Grieves, just dropped. I press play. “Ethel Grieves keeps a low profile compared to her more flamboyant siblings. She’s known for taking legitimate jobs, always under her real name, and resigning before she’s charged with illegal activity.”
Forty-five minutes later, the show ends with, “For six months, Ethel’s only presence has been social media posts of her Ragdoll cat, Fresco, and glimpses of her feet, including her infamous lifted shoe. Many speculate Ethel’s on an island with good tax laws and no extradition.” The podcast provides an anonymous tip number.
As I exit the elevator, I put away the earbuds and roll my suitcase through the entrance of our Chicago office.
I hold up my company badge. “Hi, I’m Melinda Selfont.” I sign the guest log.
“Melinda, I’m so glad to finally meet you.” The receptionist’s shoulder-length blonde hair flips up at the ends and is secured with a headband that coordinates with her teal dress. Her makeup is perfect but doesn’t completely conceal a generous smattering of freckles that gives her an air of fresh-faced cuteness.
“Althea?”
She blinks wide blue eyes rapidly through unnaturally thick lashes. “That’s me.” She extends her manicured hand. “Saddled with an old lady name after some great aunt.”
I recover from my shock that she’s a stylish Gen Z. Our receptionists tend to be matronly ladies who learned to type on an actual typewriter. “It’s great putting a name to a face. And thank you so much for all your coordination.”
Althea opens her notebook and picks up a fountain pen and I recognize the iconic finial. They must pay her well, too.
“I see you prefer German pens and paper.” I click my retractable fountain pen and hold up my slim planner. “I’m a Japanese stationery girl.”
She shrugs. “Mom gave them to me when I graduated from high school. I’ll buzz you through and meet you in the Sears conference room. It’s in the back on the right.”
Althea releases the glass door to my left while she badges through the solid door behind her.
“Knock, knock.” Lori slips through the door. My colleague wears thick glasses, and her long hair hangs in a graying braid over her shoulder.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“How long has it been? Ten years?” She goes straight for a hug. In her vintage, fourteen-hole, cherry red boots, she towers over my five-two by a good six inches.
“Groundwater sampling west of Clovis.”
“At least twelve then.” Lori sets down her stack of papers and folders. She straightens her vest. “I’m giving Ethel vibes.”
“Theories on her disappearance?”
“A sibling offed her.”
“She became a meme and had to resort to a disguise.”
“Good theory. So, which podcast? Modern Mob or Good Grieves?”
“Modern Mob.”
Althea enters pushing a squeaky cart. “You Millennials and your podcasts.”
“Gen X,” Lori and I respond in unison, then laugh.
Althea asks, “Where do you want me to put your stuff?”
“On the table by the door.” Lori twists to gesture behind her. “Melinda, I have a couple of calls, but I’ll be back here at twelve. We can grab lunch.”
“Sounds good. Remind me to show you my daughter’s Halloween costume.”
Lori exits.
I unpack my laptop and watch Althea organize the packets for tomorrow. Something about her catches my eye. Her figure is curvy but a bit asymmetrical as if she’s thinner on one side.
I revise the slides for tomorrow and check a few emails.
“All laid out.” Althea takes the seat next to me and holds eye contact to the point I notice she’s wearing contact lenses; their unnatural blue makes her freckles more prominent. A cluster coalesces into a vaguely familiar shape.
“You’re awesome.”
“Thanks.” She hands me a piece of paper. A large diamond graces her left ring finger. “We need to finalize tomorrow’s dinner menu by one.”
“Sure. When are you getting married?”
“We haven’t set a date.” She writes furiously in her notebook.
I pull out my readers and peruse the menu. “How did you two meet?”
“Cat show.”
“What kind of cat do you have? I had a non-show quality Himalayan growing up.”
“A Ra—Persian mix named Fre-Freddy.” Her stammering contrasts with her put-together appearance and meticulous organizational skills.
“Do you have pictures?” Of Fresco the Ragdoll?
“Yes.” She scribbles in her notebook. “On my phone. At reception.”
She clomps—no, limps—out of the room. Her shoe must be wearing a blister—
I review Althea’s notebook to make sure we’re prepared for tomorrow. Inside, “Althea G. Sievers” is written above a thick marker line perhaps obscuring the name of a previous owner. Not quite an anagram. Below the strikethrough, the entry reminds me of something in the podcast.
Mom’s cursed notebook compels me to write my thoughts.
I flip to the page with today’s date. Random notes in neat order:
I love custom Italian wedges.
Middle-aged women and their obsession with true crime and cat videos. She owned a Himalayan!
I snap a quick picture of the notebook.
On cue, Lori walks in. “Ready? And don’t forget to show me that photo.”
I sign out at the front desk, and we leave the office. I scroll through my photos as we walk down the street. “She’s going to be Ethel for Halloween.”
Lori leans over and raises her glasses to get a better look. “Great detail all the way down to the Orion pattern in her freckles. Just like Althea’s…” A corner of her mouth tips up. “Or Ethel? Astronomy minor.”
“And I’m a cat person.” I click the link in the podcast notes. “We’re why Ethel can’t hide in plain sight anymore.”
“Middle-aged women and their true crime podcasts.” Lori pulls out her phone.
We both dial the tip line. Gen X will save the world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I think it was Mark Twain who first said “Suppose you were a middle-aged woman, and suppose you listened to true-crime podcasts. But I repeat myself”
I know that quote well. There is a quote about Atlas Shrugged and Lord of the Rings that describes me at 14. Hint: I don’t like orcs.
Great title and story. I wish there was a real podcast with that name.
Right?! Me too! I had that thought as I wrote it.
Very clever story, packed with all sorts of clues that had me guessing until the end. Nice use of many of the “Ethel traits.” I really enjoyed this!
Thanks! This story is drawn from real-life as inspiration for the details. My inspiration was what if a popular true crime podcast made it harder for Ethel to hide and the fame/infamy made her just a bit vain. It’s serendipitous that Ragdolls and Himalayans are sometimes confused. Fun fact -The Himalayan cat is canon to my Havok story world “Not Quite Purrfect” is her origin story. My anthology Havok stories feature Preston, the hero of this story world.
Thanks for sharing the inspiration to the story!
Enjoyable story! Lots of fun details, like there being two podcasts about Ethel.
Thank you! I listen to a lot of podcasts and YouTube videos on topics from pens to politics, and two podcasts on basically any topic is a thing.
This was a fun story! I love the podcasts about her and that line “middle-aged women and their true crime podcasts”was so good!
Such a fun story; I really enjoyed it!