Chapter 92

Zara didn’t bat an eyelid as she asked, “Did she have a copy of her marriage certificate?”

“Yes, I have a copy of it. It says he married Penelope Morgan in 2074 on Luna. I also checked, and Mr Stone was issued a certificate for his marriage to Patricia Walker in 2078 here on Mars.”

“So, what documents was Ms Morgan hoping for you to find?”

“She said that Frank had documents that proved he knowingly married Patricia Walker while still married to her. I guess she needs them for the civil case and thought this was the best way to get them.”

“Zara, if Detective Beck would like to act as a witness, I wouldn’t be opposed if she observed us searching Frank’s office. But she only gets a copy of any document we believe is relevant. I have no intention of hiding the truth.”

Lina replied, “I can live with that. Do you have somewhere my people can sit while we do this? I thought that we would be searching the whole place, so I bought extra hands and eyes.”

“Carly!” Zeke called out.

Carly came out of the house. “Hi, visitors. Would you like to come around to the back patio? Lindsay is organising some lemonade. He made it fresh from lemons off Mrs Stone’s trees.”

The three officers gratefully followed her. It could get surprisingly warm under a dome during the day in summer. Zeke led the way to Frank’s office. He fiddled with the door, and it opened.

“We believe that if Frank had anything to hide, it would be in this cupboard. Do you object to me forcing it open, Detective?”

Lina chuckled, “Well, since I was planning on doing it, be my guest.”

Zeke went and got a hammer and a set of pin punches. He placed the correct-sized punch on the bottom of the hinge pin and hit it until the pin worked its way out of the hinge. He repeated for the other two hinges. He then wiggled the large door out of the recess.

As he put it to one side and down, he heard Lina say in amazement, “Is that a tool shrine?”

Zeke looked in the cupboard. The central part of the cupboard had all of the odd tools he had ever made for Frank. They were spotlessly clean, lightly oiled if needed and carefully laid out or hanging from the shadow boards on the back and sides. He remembered making each and every one of them.

“Damn, the man!” Zeke said with a thick voice.

Kyle had been right. The evidence was before his eyes. Vic, who had come find out what was going on, put his hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

“Yep! He was a weird one. Treasured every one of your inventions. He made Blake and me carefully box up all the ones you left half-finished in your workshop. The rest are in glass cases in the other storeroom. He made the cases himself once he realised you were not coming home to get them.”

Zeke shook his head in disbelief. He had to wipe his eyes before he could focus on the double row of files at the bottom of the cabinet. On top was a large, thick envelope with his name on it.

Zeke lifted it out and went and sat in Frank’s well-worn wheelie chair. He pulled a sheath of papers from it. He carefully looked at each one, then handed them to Zara until he got to the letter.

He recognised Frank’s handwriting. He had an unusually neat form of writing. It had fascinated Zeke when he was little that such a volatile man could write so beautifully. Many considered writing a dying art, but Frank liked written records.

Zeke read the letter.

Dear Ezekiel Antonio Walker,

I have always hated calling you, Zeke.

Ezekiel has several meanings, God will strengthen, the strength of God, God’s strength; take your pick. The most famous Ezekiel was a prophet. Ezekiel is in you.

I believe you have been touched by a God, but not one of those that most people pray to. I knew as soon as I read about the Keltrians on Utopia what you were. What I could have been.

I have seen you do the most amazing things. But you treat your power as if it is of no consequence. For you, it is simply a tool to use. You could rule the Sol System, but I’ve never seen you seek power over others. It just doesn’t interest you, does it, Son?

I once believed the power you have was wasted on you. You cared more about how things worked or what they were made of.

People were interesting but of little importance to you, except those you considered friends or family or those who threatened them. You protect your family ferociously, as you should.

I blew it with you right from the start. Even as a toddler, you saw what a self-centred, lying, selfish bastard I was. You have always despised liars with a passion. The only good thing I have ever done that pleased you was sire your brothers. They, I know you love.

If you only knew how often I wanted to hug you and call you, my son. But you would give me that look you had, just for me. It chilled me to the bone. Strangely, it was never a look of hatred. That would have made sense to me.

I don’t know why you felt pity and sadness for me. What did you know that you couldn’t tell me? Did you know the devil still controlled me? Every other prophecy you uttered has come true, but you wouldn’t tell me the big one. I guess your look was the hint.

I pity me, too. All my grand schemes fell to dust. Every time I failed; I got that look from you. I was such a disappointment, wasn’t I, Son? In my heart, you were, even if what came out of my mouth said the opposite.

The stupid curse made everything I said and cared about a lie. Son, I have a devil in my head. She laughs at me every time I fail. She sets me up to fail. I tried to run away from her, but she found me. She broke my lovely Patricia’s heart.