by Kathi Daley
“Thanks, Tess. Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask if you’d stopped by Sue’s Sewing Nook yet.”
“No, not yet. I’m doing a circle-eight route today.”
“The book she ordered came in. Do you think you can drop it off when you bring her her mail?”
“Yeah, I can do that. Do you have it handy?”
Bree reached under the counter and handed me the package. “Thanks. I could have called her and asked her to come by to pick it up herself, but it is already paid for, so this will save her a trip.”
“No problem. I am always happy to help out when I can.”
I said my goodbyes and went back out into the sunshine. Tilly and I had managed to get 90 percent of our route done when I received a text from Tony letting me know he had news about Elizabeth Bradford’s missing fiancé and wondering if I wanted to grab dinner later. I texted back that I would meet him at my cabin as soon as I finished my route. He offered to get there early to make us dinner, which sounded even better to me.
Chapter 4
By the time Tilly and I got home, Tony had something that smelled wonderful in the oven. I greeted Titan and then kissed Tony hello. My cats, Tang and Tinder, were sitting on the sofa watching my progress, but neither went to the effort of getting up to say hi.
“The chicken-and-penne casserole will be ready in about fifteen minutes if you want to change out of your uniform and get comfortable.”
“Is this your chicken and penne with the creamy Cajun seasoning?” I asked, taking a deep breath of the spicy scent.
“It is. I have rosemary bread and salad as well. Oh, and I ran into Mike when I was in town picking up supplies for dinner. He said to call him when you get a chance.”
“Did he say what about?”
“He just said he had a question for you about Brick’s mail last week.”
Brick’s mail? Now that could be interesting. I tried to think back as I changed into a pair of jeans and a pale blue sweatshirt. The bar didn’t get a lot of mail. In fact, if he got mail two days in the same week, I’d say it was a busy one for him, and it wasn’t unheard of for him to go three or four weeks in a row without receiving anything but junk mail. And he almost never passed any outgoing mail to me. I supposed he just dropped off his mail at the post office rather than hanging on to it for me to take. A lot of people did. I played through the previous week in my mind. I was pretty sure Brick hadn’t had any mail on Monday, but he had received a couple of items on Tuesday. An official-looking letter with a logo in the top left-hand corner with a typewritten address in the center of the envelope, alerting the post office that it was to go to Brick at the bar. On the same day he’d received that businesslike letter, he had also received a larger envelope, which might have contained a document of some sort. A signature indicating proof of delivery was requested for that second item, which also had been professionally addressed and, if I remembered correctly, it had the same logo as the return address as the smaller letter. Brick didn’t have outgoing mail for me to take on Tuesday, and he neither sent nor received mail on Wednesday, but on Thursday he received a large envelope that felt like it could contain a magazine or a catalog, but, now that I thought about it, might have held additional documents, and an envelope with a handwritten address that looked like a letter or other personal correspondence. The handwritten envelope didn’t have a return address, but I had noticed that the postmark was from Iowa.
You might wonder how I could remember such details, and the simple answer is that Brick received mail that was not just a flyer or a solicitation of some sort so rarely that his mail, when it was something of substance, tended to stand out in my mind. Plus, I will admit that delivering the mail could become routine, so I tended to notice what sorts of things customers I knew well received.
After I changed, I used my cell to call Mike. As anticipated, his question had to do with items that might have been delivered by myself or some other delivery service. Mike was interested to know if I had delivered a box to Brick during the week prior to his death. I informed him that I had not. I asked about the presence of a tracking number or some other sort of delivery service indicator, and he told me that the postmark had indicated that the box had been sent via the United States Postal Service. Okay, that was weird. If Brick had received a box, I, as his mail carrier, would have been the one to deliver it. Unless, of course, it was too large or too heavy. I asked Mike about the size and weight, and he informed me that the box was a cube of about one foot in length, width, and depth. It was empty now, so he was unable to ascertain its weight when mailed, but from the charge to mail the darn thing, he imagined that whatever was in the box must have weighed about five pounds.
I assured Mike that I had not seen or delivered the box, and he said that he was going to check with some of the other folks who worked at the local branch of the post office.
I went downstairs for dinner as soon as I hung up the phone.
“Did you have the information Mike was looking for?” Tony asked after I slid onto a stool at the counter so we could chat while he finished preparing our meal.
“No. He was looking for information regarding the delivery of a box he found at Brick’s place. He said it had a USPS label on it, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never delivered a box to Brick. He did receive mail last week, though, which was odd in its own right.”
Tony opened the oven and pulled out a casserole dish with cheese bubbling on the top of it. “Brick didn’t normally receive mail?”
I shook my head. “Rarely. And he almost never received mail twice in one week, other than junk mail, of course. Last week he received four items in all. Two on Tuesday and two on Thursday.”
Tony picked up a salad bowl and headed toward the dining table. “Did Mike seem to think that any of the items he received might be relevant?”
I frowned. “He didn’t ask for a description of the items and I didn’t provide one. The entire conversation was actually pretty quick.”
Tony set a basket of bread on the table and then handed me a plate so that I could serve myself a portion of the casserole, which was cooling on a hot pad placed on the kitchen counter. “Do you think any of the mail Brick received might reveal something about his murder?”
I paused before answering. I scooped up a large spoonful of casserole and then carried it to the table. “Maybe. On Tuesday he received formal-looking correspondence in a business-letter-size envelope. There was even a logo where the return address would usually go.”
“Did you notice the identity of the sender?”
“No. I had no way of knowing what was going to happen, so I didn’t pay all that much attention to the logo other than to notice it was there.”
Tony sat down across from me. I picked up my glass and took a sip of my water.
“Anything else on Tuesday?” he asked.
“A larger envelope that looked and felt like it might be a document of some sort. And no, I didn’t notice the return address on that one either, though I’m pretty sure it also had a logo where the return address would be.” I went on to tell Tony about the two items that I delivered on Thursday.
“So, we have a business-letter-size envelope with a typed address and logo, something that felt like loose pages or a document, a package that felt as if it had a magazine or catalog within, and a letter-size item with a handwritten address.”
I nodded. “That sounds right.”
Tony took a bite of his casserole. “I wonder if any or all of the items you delivered are still in the bar.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we can look.”
“The bar is closed,” Tony pointed out.
“I suppose I can call Mike again.”
“That might be a good idea. Just because he didn’t ask about Brick’s mail delivery other than the box doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know about the mail.”
I grabbed a second piece of bread from the basket. “When you called earlier, you mentioned that you had news about the case of the
missing fiancé.”
“I do. Well, I don’t have news exactly, but a lack of evidence to support our theory is something, I suppose.”
“Okay, then, what didn’t you find?”
“Anything relating to a man named Patrick O’Malley living in Boston who would have been twenty-four in 1959.”
“Did you widen your search to include a larger geographic area as well as maybe a slightly wider age range?”
Tony nodded. “From the information I could find—which, keep in mind, was not at all as readily available back then as it is now—there were seven men named Patrick O’Malley between the ages of twenty-two and twenty-six living in Boston or its suburbs in 1959. If you throw in hyphenated names such as Patrick-Michael or John-Patrick, there were sixteen men who fit the profile.”
“Don’t you think someone named John-Patrick would go by John, not Patrick?”
“Not if his father’s name was also John-Patrick, and the father went by John.”
He had a point. “Are any of these men still alive?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet. It occurred to me that we are going to need more information if we are going to narrow things down.”
“Why don’t you cross-reference Patrick using all the criteria you used for the last search but add in an association with Toby Willis, the man Elizabeth Bradford told Jennifer Anne was with the group Patrick accompanied to White Eagle. She said he was about the same age as Patrick.”
Tony smiled. “That is a very good idea. I’ll see what I can turn up.”
As soon as we finished eating, Tony cleaned up the kitchen while I called Mike and asked about the location of the mail I had delivered to Brick last week. I had no way of knowing if any of it played into Brick’s murder, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to bring it up. He responded by telling me that Brick had left piles of mail on his desk in the bar, and if I thought the mail I’d delivered the week before his death could be important, I could meet him there in an hour. He hoped I would be able to identify the four envelopes in question.
******
Mike was already inside the bar when Tony and I arrived. He’d left the door open, so we let ourselves in. I could see a light that must originate from Brick’s office, which was located at the end of a hallway that also led to both the men’s and women’s restrooms, as well as a large storage room.
“I think this might be every piece of correspondence I’ve delivered to Brick since he purchased this place.” I picked up a handful of envelopes from the desk. Many of them were empty. I had to wonder why Brick hadn’t shredded them, or at least tossed them in the bin.
“Do you recognize the envelopes you dropped off last week?” Mike asked.
I picked up the large envelope that I’d thought might contain a magazine or catalog. It was empty, but the postmark confirmed that it was the item I had delivered on Thursday. There was no return address, so I wasn’t sure how I could ever determine what was inside the envelope when I dropped it by. The other envelope I dropped off on Tuesday was also in the pile. There was a logo from a company called Genocom where the return address should be, but like the first envelope, it was empty. I sorted through the entirety of the contents on Brick’s desk, but I wasn’t able to locate either the envelope with the handwritten address or the letter-size envelope with the typewritten address.
“I suppose he may have taken the two smaller items home with him,” Tony said.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to head over to his house to take a look,” Mike said. “Any idea what sort of company Genocom is?”
“I’ve heard of them,” Tony said. “They specialize in genetics, researching genetically transmitted diseases and disorders, and are actively looking for ways to both prevent and cure those sorts of abnormalities. They also are involved in some of the more controversial types of research dealing with cloning and cell manipulation.”
“Why would Brick be in to any of that?” I asked.
“He might have been after something as simple as a DNA profile, which the company also provides for those who are willing to pay for it.”
“You mean they do DNA profiles like those internet companies that have you spit into a container and allow you to find out the basics of your genetic makeup?” Mike asked.
“They do offer that service, but they also do DNA profiling that is much more specific. For example, if you wanted to test the likelihood that two people are related, they would be able to give you information about that. Or if you found DNA at the scene of a crime and wanted to compare it with the DNA of a suspect, they could do that as well.”
“So maybe Brick was searching for his roots,” I said.
Tony shrugged. “Perhaps. If we want to know for sure why Brick contacted this company, you will either need to find the correspondence he received from them, or Mike will need to get a search warrant to access his file at Genocom.”
“Looking for the pages that were in the envelope seems the path of least resistance,” Mike said.
I nodded. “Let’s go over to Brick’s house to see what we can find.”
Brick lived in a modest, one-bedroom home not far from the bar. It wasn’t exactly a health hazard, but it was a mess, and I really didn’t understand why anyone would choose to live like that. As with his office at the bar, he had one surface—in this case, a table—piled high with old magazines, mail, and receipts. Luckily, the letter-size piece of correspondence I had delivered on Tuesday was right on top. Like the larger envelope we’d found in the bar, it featured a Genocom logo where the return address would usually be. I opened the envelope to find a sheet of paper letting Brick know that the information he’d asked for had been sent in a separate envelope because he’d chosen hard copies rather than email documents, and the receipt for the work he’d commissioned was included in the envelope as well.
“Seems like we need to find whatever was in that envelope,” Mike said.
“It’ll be tough because we don’t know what we are looking for,” I responded.
“If Brick ordered genetic testing of some sort, the report would most likely contain graphs as well as text,” Tony offered. He picked up a pile of paperwork and mail from the table. “I guess we start sorting.”
“Look for a letter-size envelope with a handwritten address and a postmark that would indicate it was mailed last week too,” I said.
Tony, Mike, and I continued to look through the stack for at least thirty minutes before Mike tossed the things he’d been working on onto the rest. “If the report or whatever it was that Genocom sent Brick were here, I would think it would be right on the top.”
“If the information was damaging in some way, it is possible that Brick would secure the report so it wouldn’t be easily found,” Mike pointed out.
I stood up and stretched my back. “Did anyone notice a safe in the bar office?” I asked.
“No,” Tony answered, “but we weren’t looking for one, and it does make sense that he would have one. Brick pulled in a lot of cash between five o’clock on Friday, when the banks close, and eight a.m. on Monday, when they open. It makes sense that he’d have a safe to store it in.”
Tony was right. It made sense that Brick would have a safe somewhere in the bar. “Should we look around here first? It’s a small place, but I suppose we shouldn’t assume that Brick didn’t have a safe for personal use here.”
“Okay, let’s look around,” Mike said. “Be sure to look behind every picture, look behind the clothes in every closet, and look for loose floorboards. Think like a thief. That’s what I do when I am trying to figure out where someone might have stashed something.”
A thorough search of the house netted us zero results, so we piled back into our cars and drove back toward the bar.
“Has Brick ever mentioned family members to you?” Tony asked.
I paused to consider. “No, not that I can remember. I don’t think he has any family in town. He hasn’t been married since I’ve known him, and I don’t remember him
ever mentioning having children.” I let my mind wander back. “There was one man. An uncle, I think.” I focused harder. “I remember delivering a letter to him just before we headed out of town for Thanksgiving. Brick said the letter was from his uncle, who lived out of town and planned a visit. He said he wasn’t sure exactly when he was coming because the man’s plans were pretty loose and open. He wondered if the uncle would be in town on Thanksgiving and if he would be expected to cook.” I looked at Tony. “I suggested a precooked meal.”
“Do you remember mentioning a name?”
I tapped my finger on my chin. “No. Jordan Westlake walked into the bar right at about that time, and I changed the subject because I wanted to ask him about his visit with the Harrington twins. I never got back to talking with Brick about his uncle.”
“I suppose it would be easy to use Brick as a starting point to look for possible family members. Maybe he had the scoop on the unknown parentage of one of his cousins, or perhaps he wondered if his uncle was actually his father.”
“I guess that is the sort of thing one might go to Genocom to find out.”
Tony pulled into the bar’s parking lot behind Mike. We parked and got out, then followed Mike inside and down the hallway to Brick’s office. It made the most sense that if he had a safe, that would be where we’d find it. Eventually, we found a floor safe under the area rug. Of course, as any safe would be, it was locked.
“Can’t you just break it open?” I asked.
“Not without a search warrant,” Mike said. “I should be able to get one pretty quickly, given the nature of our investigation. I want to thank you both for helping. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what I find.”
Well, that was anticlimactic. The fact that we’d seemingly come so close but still didn’t know what had been going on in Brick’s life immediately before his death left me feeling itchy and unsatisfied. The wait was, of course, understandably necessary. This was an official investigation, and anything Mike found couldn’t be used in a court of law unless he followed proper protocol.