Letters in Time

by Reiss Susan

  Someone had moved the stack of computer paper. Tidying up. Maria. My eyes darted around the room. Where would she put the paper? She must have hidden it away in her constant effort to keep my home neat.

  I heard the front door open and close. TJ. But I had to get the paper back to Daniel or I might never know what happened to them.

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  “Okay, I’ll feed Ghost.”

  I had only precious moments to find the paper. Desperate, I scanned the bookshelves. Nothing. But I’d forgotten there were large drawers under the writing surface for more storage. I sat in the chair and hunched underneath. Madly, I pulled open the drawers. Nothing. Then I turned to the small file cabinet next to the desk and found the stack of paper in the bottom drawer.

  “What are you doing?” TJ asked.

  I almost cried out in surprise. I had to think fast. “Found it!” Gripping the stack of paper, Daniel’s paper, I sat up slowly and returned the stack to the desktop. “I remembered I needed some paper and I didn’t know where Maria had hidden it. You know, she is always saying Everything belongs in its place only I don’t always know where that place is.” My laugh sounded weak, but it was the best I could do. “Let’s eat!”

  I hustled TJ down the hall and smiled when I heard Ghost crunching happily in the kitchen. Soon, we too were enjoying our dinner.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “The Secret of Happiness: A mind always employed is always happy. This is the true secret, the grand recipe, for felicity. The idle are the only wretched.”

  – Thomas Jefferson in a letter to his Daughter

  TJ and I shared a delightful dinner of delicious food seasoned with some laughs. Ghost had his kibble that TJ carried in his truck. Afterward, I was ready to crawl into my bed for a good night's sleep. As I walked TJ to the front door, Ghost stopped and growled. TJ stopped as well, heeding the alert from his dog. He motioned me to stand still and put his finger to his lips for quiet. My heart thudded in my chest. The PTSD threatened to trigger. The man and his dog crept down the hallway.

  We all jumped when sharp knocks hit the door.

  “Who is it?” TJ demanded.

  It felt like forever before a man’s voice answered with a question. “TJ? It’s Craig. Detective Craig Mason. What’s wrong?”

  I leaned against the wall and started breathing again.

  Before answering, TJ turned to Ghost, who stood rigid, hackles raised. The stripe of gray fur standing up on his back, a sign he was unsure or angry. TJ said in a stern voice, “Friend.” The dog tore his eyes away from the door, stared at TJ for a long moment then lay down on the floor by his feet, calm, but ready.

  TJ opened the door then lowered his voice, but I could still hear him say, "Craig, don't sneak up on us like that, not with a murderer on the loose. Think, man!"

  As the detective stepped over the threshold, he whispered an apology to TJ then greeted me. “Evening, Ms. Chase.”

  I tried to steady my voice. “Good evening, detective. Let’s go into the living room.”

  As I sat down, I noticed TJ's look of concern. I nodded and braced to hear bad news. "What can we do for you, Detective?"

  "Well, ma'am, you both know that I'm investigating the incident at the Lone Oak. I was wondering if either of you might know where Josh Collins is?"

  “I’m not surprised to hear his name,” TJ said. “When there is trouble, Josh is usually right in the middle of it. A bad seed is a bad seed.”

  Bad seed made me remember the man named Joshua of long ago. “Why would you say that?” I asked.

  "It is what it is." He shrugged. "When families have been in the same area for a long time, they intermarry and the kids often act like they own the place. They strut around like the entitled elite. Isn't that right, Craig?"

  The detective grimaced. “Well, I wouldn’t want to put it like that. But I have to admit, it is a problem. So, have either of you seen him?”

  I shook my head. “The only time I saw him was here at the Cottage.”

  TJ shot out of the chair. “What was he doing here?”

  “He showed up one day,” I began hesitantly, not sure why TJ reacted so strongly. “He said he wanted to welcome me to the neighborhood and make sure I was okay. He thought it could be unnerving for a city girl to be living alone here at Uncle Jack’s Cottage in the middle of nowhere.” I casually added, “He knew that Stephani had come by the Cottage. His sister is the library intern I’m working with, remember?”

  TJ narrowed his eyes. “Was she here too?”

  His reaction, of course, triggered a defensive response. "Yes, as a matter of fact but they didn’t come together. And when was I supposed to give you a list of everyone who comes to the Cottage?"

  Detective Mason stepped in. "Okay, okay. You two can discuss that later. Ma'am, when did you see Josh?"

  "I don't know, yesterday maybe? Why don't you talk to Stephani?"

  “I have and she claims that she doesn’t know anything.”

  Claims? There was more going on than I thought.

  The detective pressed. “Did he say anything about where he was hanging out or tell you if he was leaving the county?”

  "No, nothing like that," I answered him while I kept my eyes on TJ. "It was nothing long and involved. He showed up to say hello, introduced his friends, and left. That was it."

  The detective followed up. “What friends?”

  I scratched my head, trying to recall the details. “I only remember their funny nicknames, Tin Man and Toad, I think.”

  The detective made a note while TJ sat down again. His body language of legs crossed away from me showed he was closing me out of the conversation. And he did.

  “Craig, what have you got?”

  “TJ, you know Josh. He’s always interested in getting the most for the least amount of effort. If there’s a get-rich-quick scheme, Josh is on it.”

  I wasn’t going to let them shut me out. “He struck me as a bully masquerading as a regular guy.

  “I wish I could confirm the real names of these boys,” He looked at his notes. “Tin Man and Toad.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to call up the memory of that afternoon. "Tin Man was a thin young man, really thin, who looked like his hips could barely hold up his pants. His blonde hair was cut with weird bangs. He seemed to hang on every word the bully said."

  The detective looked at TJ. “This Tin Man sounds like Donnie Sawyer.” TJ nodded in agreement.

  I continued. “And the other young man was tall, had brown hair and deep dimples. He was the best-looking guy in the group. Why would they give him the ugly nickname, Toad?”

  “Edward Ray, Jr. We know about him,” said the detective.

  “I swear that kid would do anything to be with the cool guys,” TJ declared.

  "Do you think he's the one who murdered the young man?" I was so surprised. "He didn't look the type." I looked down at my hands. "I guess there isn't a type or you could sweep up all the offenders and put yourself out of a job."

  "You're right about that. I don't think the boy did it." The detective sighed. "He is like that comical character in the movies. He talks tough. You know, says the words, but you don't believe him. When it comes to doing something illegal, like trespassing on somebody's land, he gets nervous."

  “Sounds like he’s earned the name Toad. All bluster, but happy to sit on his pad,” TJ said with a chuckle.

  “I think he’s our snitch,” the detective said softly as if revealing a secret.

  “Snitch?” I asked.

  “The caller on the Tip Line,” Craig said. “I’d bet money that whoever called was there when the attack went down. I listened to the recording. The male tried to disguise his voice, but now that I think about it, it sounded a lot like Toad. I could see him calling the Tip Line to get help for Kid Billy. Leaving a friend out there under the tree bleeding must have upset him. I need to talk to him again and push harder.”

  “So, is he a good guy
or a bad guy?” I asked.

  “He was a good kid, but he has taken up with some bad company,” TJ chimed in. “Josh is a bad seed. He wouldn’t hesitate to trespass on somebody’s land or something worse. He had one run-in with the law while he was a minor.” TJ frowned. “I don’t think it was anything serious unless you can be thrown in prison for being annoying. Was it drugs?”

  The detective shook his head. “TJ, you know I can’t answer that. The kid was a minor. The word is that the system worked. We thought we scared him straight. Now that he’s an adult, it gets serious if it escalates.”

  “Something tells me he is guilty of being a Class A manipulator,” I added. “What about the victim? Was he part of the posse too?” I asked.

  "Yes, Kid Billy, Tin Man, Toad, and Josh all grew up together. Kid Billy got into some trouble when he was a minor, too. Nothing serious. Word is he got straight. But recently, I heard that he got upside down about money and needed to score quickly. That could be why he started running with Josh again."

  TJ leaned back and closed his eyes. “Let’s say, they heard that old story about a treasure buried under the Lone Oak and thought they should dig it up. Let’s say, they went out with their flashlights and shovels. Josh tells them where to dig, but there’s nothing there. So, he points to a different place. They dig again. Nothing. And that happens again and again.”

  “That would explain all the different holes around the Lone Oak,” I said.

  TJ shot me a look. “How do you know about them?”

  I wanted to ignore him, but we were talking about murder. "Stephani took me for a little ride to the Lone Oak. I saw the holes the police filled in, sort of." To deflect any response, I quickly picked up the thread of his scenario. "The guys were out there digging and got frustrated because they weren’t finding anything. Things started getting tense and Bam!”

  "Or try this." The detective's gaze drifted toward a window. "They're all digging, all but Josh. Heaven forbid he should get dirty. Kid Billy starts to get nervous. After all, they're trespassing on private land in the middle of the night. An arrest could mean trouble for him. He says they should leave, do some research and come back when they have a better idea where the treasure might be.

  TJ continued the story. “Josh goes all macho on him. There’s a lot of posturing, normal for guys that age. Kid Billy holds his shovel out to Josh and says he can dig if he wants to, but he’s going home.”

  The detective turned to TJ. "Can you hear Josh saying, 'You're not going anywhere till I let you. If I say dig, you dig.'" TJ nodded. Craig continued. "Josh asserts that he's the boss and he demands to hear Kid Billy state that fact.”

  And Craig played out the rest of the scene for us. "Kid Billy says yes, Josh is the boss, but Josh didn't believe he is sincere. They get into a fight of words. All the Kid can think of is getting away. Josh can't let this insubordination go unchecked. He takes the shovel and halfheartedly swings the shovel at the Kid to scare him. But the Kid is quick and jumps out of the way. But what infuriates Josh is that Kid Billy doesn't show any fear. Now, it is a contest of wills and male pride. Josh won't let anyone else come out on top, no matter who or why. He swings again and connects with Kid Billy's head. Battle over and won."

  I was surprised at the detail the detective used to describe what may have happened under the tree. “How do you know all that? I thought the victim never regained consciousness.”

  “Imagination helps in this job.” He winked at me. “And so does experience. It was a head wound. Even a small cut would bleed like the dickens. I think the guys got scared when they saw all the blood and peeled outta there, leaving Kid Billy on the ground. They couldn't call 911, because of questions they'd face: what they were doing on the land, why they were digging holes, and the rest."

  A shudder ran through me. “Do you think the boy would have survived if they had gotten help right away?”

  The detective shook his head. "The doctor doesn't want to speculate, but I think Kid Billy was doomed when the shovel slammed into his skull." He slapped his thighs with the palms of his hands. "That's all I've got right now. I need to find Josh. If either of you sees or hears anything, be sure to let me know right away."

  He pointed his index finger right at my nose. “And no more neighborly conversations for you. If Josh did this, he is dangerous. He’ll do anything to protect himself. So, call me. Don’t engage. No friendly chat. You call me.”

  After the detective left, TJ said, “You need to listen to Craig. You’re not to get involved. You should’ve told me he came to the Cottage.” Then TJ let out a long sigh. “I guess I should have told you the negative things about living here.”

  "You mean things like not having good cell phone coverage, being a half-hour away from civilization, and living across the creek from a witch's den?" I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  But he didn't respond to my humor. "About Josh. Jack had run-ins with the boy since he was young. One time, Jack caught him stealing a tool from the garage and got angry. It wasn't the value of the tool. It was the principle of the thing. The kid was disrespectful and threatening. He said Jack owed him.” TJ shook his head. “Jack didn’t owe him anything.”

  “Did Uncle Jack call the police?” I asked.

  TJ shook his head. “Josh returned the tool… by lobbing it into the woods. It took us an hour to find it. What that kid needed was a father to whack some sense into him.” Anger made his face flush red.

  “Okay, I get it. Not a good neighbor,” I said quickly to defuse the situation. “I’ll watch myself. Anyone else I should know?”

  “His sister Stephani is no prize.”

  My eyes grew wide in astonishment. “Stephani? The library intern who is helping me?” Then I shook my head.

  He looked away as if trying to make a decision then he turned back. "You do know she is Josh's sister."

  “Yes, but she’s nothing like her brother,” I insisted.

  He shrugged. “Pardon the cliché, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. They are brother and sister, brought up in the same house.”

  "I'm afraid I can't agree with you. I've worked with Stephani. She is meticulous and respectful, almost to a fault. No, maybe she was wild when she was young, but now, she has her act together. I think I'll give her the benefit of the doubt."

  His mouth clamped shut, but I could see the strain on his face. I wasn't going to change his mind so, I opted not to try.

  Instead, I voiced the question that was rolling around my brain. “I know I’m probably jumping to conclusions, but is this Josh any relation to the man who married Emma a century ago?” He didn’t answer right away. “Do you know? You must know.”

  He cast his eyes to the floor and finally answered with one word. “Yes.”

  He was embarrassed. Why? Then it hit me like a bolt. If you went back far enough, Josh, Stephani, and TJ were on the same family tree.

  TJ stood up. “I gotta go. Thanks again for dinner.” He was out the door with Ghost on his heels and they were in his truck in a flash.

  I leaned against my front door until it closed with a quiet click. My hands were shaking like leaves in a light breeze when I set the deadbolt. A bad seed, I thought. A bad seed can grow into an apple that doesn’t fall far from the tree. It was a cliché, but, in this case, a truism. I may have met a murderer, right here at the Cottage.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “When you are about to write a letter to a friend, think what you would say to him if he were at that moment with you, and then write it. We all like talking letters – good talking, of course.”

  How to Write Letters

  by Professor J. Willis Westlake, 1883

  I was tired and stressed by all the talk of murder. I wanted to lie down and sleep comfortably in my bed upstairs instead of on the sofa. But there was something I had to do first. With fingers crossed, I turned on the light in the writing den, and heaved a sigh of relief. There, on top of the stack of papers was a short letter fro
m Daniel.

  Dearest Emma,

  I wanted to write a letter in response to your note, but the paper was gone. I panicked as I ransacked my father’s desk. There was always a fine stack of paper to be found there, but now it was gone. There was not a page or a fragment to be found.

  I've been waiting quietly for someone to bring more. Again, my patience paid off. More paper appeared and I am able to write to you once again.

  I pray, do not break the connection we have made. Your presence and love are all that allow me to exist in this world. Without you, I would be like the leaves of corn grown from the soil of our beloved Waterwood in autumn. Golden, but dried out. Brittle. Ready to be carried off with the next breath of wind. Scattered into the unknown.

  Emma, I beg that we remain joined, even if only through written words until we are together again.

  I am, my dearest friend, most affectionately and kindly yours,

  Daniel

  Relieved, I made my way upstairs for a peaceful night’s sleep.

  The next morning, I was up with the birds, as Uncle Jack liked to say. I had time to revel in Mother Nature’s morning activities before Stephani arrived and I had to begin my human chores and errands. I stopped on my way to the kitchen and was delighted to find a long letter from Daniel. After capturing his words in photographs, I took it out to the patio with a fresh cup of coffee and sat down to read.

  Dear Emma,

  You are such a dear and sensitive woman. I hesitate to write of events, in fear that you might be overcome by their import. I ask that you forgive me. I send these words only because you asked. Be brave, my dearest Emma. Your strength fortifies me.