Read Online The Dead Letter by Finley Martin - Free Book Online
Authors: Finley Martin
Tags: Fiction
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slowed down, her attention shifting to the terrain along the roadway. The accident scene photo in the newspaper had shown a large field in the background, but for the last half-mile she had passed only loose strings of houses and small stands of trees and brush. Suddenly the terrain opened up. Fields appeared on both sides of the road. Several hundred yards ahead stood the bridge over Fullerton Creek. She eased the car onto the shoulder and stopped.
Then she saw something. A small white cross. It was one of those simple memorials that family members sometimes place along a highway where a loved one has died in an accident. She pulled the car a bit further ahead. Her tires sank into the soft shoulder of the road. She stopped and got out.
Anne walked toward the cross. It had been placed on an overgrown path that sloped from the shoulder of the road to a grain field and traversed a tubular metal culvert in the ditch below.
The wooden memorial was old. Edna probably had erected it a short time after Carolynâs death, but the spot had been cared for recently. The wild grasses surrounding it were clipped. A wilted bouquet of summer flowers lay nearby. Even the paths worn into the field by farm machinery suggested that the drivers had kept a respectful distance from the cross.
Anneâs eyes fell upon the grey metal culvert. One end was crumpled, likely by Carolynâs car. Once her vehicle left the road, the impact would have been head-on. The stop would have been instantaneous and unforgiving. The end of Carolynâs life probably would have been sudden and painless. But none of that would have comforted Edna, she thought.
Anne surveyed the stretch of highway. In each direction it was straight, open, and level. There were no houses, no distractionsâjust four or five hundred yards of country road behind her and another two or three hundred to the bridge ahead.
The police were right. There was no evidence here to suspect anything but some driver error. But that didnât allay Anneâs suspicions. She knew that Carolynâs last letter had been mailed just the day before her death, and that was something the police had not known and couldnât have factored into their conclusion.
And then there were other incidentals. For example, Anne noted that the accident occurred on a straightaway, not a curve; the road was wet, but the rain had ended earlier that evening; and it was not an unfamiliar road to Carolyn, but one she drove each day; also, it was less than a ten-minute drive from her work to the crash site, probably not enough time to drift off to sleep; and her death happened at the end of her regular work day, not after a double shift or some other peculiar scheduling. Really , thought Anne, Carolyn had faced no natural circumstances which would have caused her death .
It was possible that all of this was coincidence, but Anne had always been suspicious of coincidence, and this prompted a phone call to Ben. Anne needed a favour.
15.
Up until a year ago, Ben Solomon had been Detective Sergeant, had liked his job with the Charlottetown Police, and had intended to retire in a couple of years. Then, he became drawn into a case Anne was working. It had been her first case and what started as a confidential delivery of a clientâs package turned into an international intrigue involving counterfeit money and an espionage plan gone off the rails.
The result became potentially messy for the governments in Ottawa and Washington, and, in order to avoid public embarrassment, the provincial government agreed to help with the patching-up work, part of which included the creation of a new provincial government post with federal money.
Ben Solomon was appointed to that post, guaranteed his police pension, and given a generous salary, almost double what he made as a cop. Anneâs role in the incident was rewarded by the promise of periodic government subcontracts for her future private investigation
Then she saw something. A small white cross. It was one of those simple memorials that family members sometimes place along a highway where a loved one has died in an accident. She pulled the car a bit further ahead. Her tires sank into the soft shoulder of the road. She stopped and got out.
Anne walked toward the cross. It had been placed on an overgrown path that sloped from the shoulder of the road to a grain field and traversed a tubular metal culvert in the ditch below.
The wooden memorial was old. Edna probably had erected it a short time after Carolynâs death, but the spot had been cared for recently. The wild grasses surrounding it were clipped. A wilted bouquet of summer flowers lay nearby. Even the paths worn into the field by farm machinery suggested that the drivers had kept a respectful distance from the cross.
Anneâs eyes fell upon the grey metal culvert. One end was crumpled, likely by Carolynâs car. Once her vehicle left the road, the impact would have been head-on. The stop would have been instantaneous and unforgiving. The end of Carolynâs life probably would have been sudden and painless. But none of that would have comforted Edna, she thought.
Anne surveyed the stretch of highway. In each direction it was straight, open, and level. There were no houses, no distractionsâjust four or five hundred yards of country road behind her and another two or three hundred to the bridge ahead.
The police were right. There was no evidence here to suspect anything but some driver error. But that didnât allay Anneâs suspicions. She knew that Carolynâs last letter had been mailed just the day before her death, and that was something the police had not known and couldnât have factored into their conclusion.
And then there were other incidentals. For example, Anne noted that the accident occurred on a straightaway, not a curve; the road was wet, but the rain had ended earlier that evening; and it was not an unfamiliar road to Carolyn, but one she drove each day; also, it was less than a ten-minute drive from her work to the crash site, probably not enough time to drift off to sleep; and her death happened at the end of her regular work day, not after a double shift or some other peculiar scheduling. Really , thought Anne, Carolyn had faced no natural circumstances which would have caused her death .
It was possible that all of this was coincidence, but Anne had always been suspicious of coincidence, and this prompted a phone call to Ben. Anne needed a favour.
15.
Up until a year ago, Ben Solomon had been Detective Sergeant, had liked his job with the Charlottetown Police, and had intended to retire in a couple of years. Then, he became drawn into a case Anne was working. It had been her first case and what started as a confidential delivery of a clientâs package turned into an international intrigue involving counterfeit money and an espionage plan gone off the rails.
The result became potentially messy for the governments in Ottawa and Washington, and, in order to avoid public embarrassment, the provincial government agreed to help with the patching-up work, part of which included the creation of a new provincial government post with federal money.
Ben Solomon was appointed to that post, guaranteed his police pension, and given a generous salary, almost double what he made as a cop. Anneâs role in the incident was rewarded by the promise of periodic government subcontracts for her future private investigation
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