Dear Readers. Where to start? Where to start, indeed!! It’s been several days since my last entry and for very good reason. Things went from bad to worse in our pilgrimage to save Constance from the hands of her terrorist kidnappers. Finally, representatives from The Halliburton Company and Exxon Mobil showed up in Cadiz. We all met in a suite at the Hotel Playa Victoria. Both of the representatives seemed to be low-level corporate functionaries, sent by the companies as an afterthought. I thought perhaps they were just tired from their long trips to Cadiz, as they seemed so disinterested and officious. Well, imagine my surprise when they pulled out contracts for us to sign, stating that we absolved them of any and all responsibilities inConstance’s kidnapping case.
I was so angry! I asked them if they had any intention of paying the Iraqi people for all of their pain and suffering, as the ransom notes demanded. The foolish men told me that they had no intention of paying any ransom notes, that they had no responsibility to help the Iraqi people, and that if we did NOT sign, their lawyers would draw up lawsuit papers if we spoke negatively about their companies. Oh these evil corporate drones. I mustered all of my gentility and good breeding possible, and kept my mouth shut.
Well, at that moment, Hubert broke down. He started to SOB! The poor, fat old man buried his face in his hands, and “came clean” as it were. The truth is, Constance has not been kidnapped at all. It was a ruse! A ruse, dear readers! The truth is, Hubert and Constance have no more money. They, like so many Americans today, have lived far beyond their means. The house in Palm Beach, the Duplex in Manhattan, the farm in the Hamptons, the trips, Constance’s excessive forays at Harry Winston’s.
I simply assumed that Hubert had invested his inheritance and earnings well, but this is not the case. Hubert and Constance are broke, and they cooked up this “kidnapping” scheme to EXTORT money from Halliburton and Exxon-Mobil (evil companies though they undoubtedly are, nobody really deserves to be extorted!)
Constance is still in Little Cayman, living in an out-of-the-way motor hotel somewhere on the island with some sort of washerwoman who doubles as her maid. She and Hubert will no doubt be brought up on charges by the CIA, or the FBI or some such organization. Who knows? The car is coming at any minute to take Helen and I back to New York, where we belong, and away from this whole stinking mess. How I LONG for the taste of good Chinese takeout! La! A demain, fair readers!