Chapter 5

“I didn’t have anyone to contact in case of an emergency so I called you guys,” the manager said while walking to the door of the apartment. He had been told that he could enter the apartment, but he wanted to have an independent observer just in case someone wanted to make a big deal out of it.

“We appreciate it,” Detective Stafford said.

The manager turned the key while saying, “It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. He just walked into that fire. Next thing we know, he throws the kid out the second story window. The kid landed in a snow bank without a scratch on him.”

“What about Samuel?” Detective Stafford asked while looking at the fire damage at the other end of the building. The fire had melted the snow around the building. The water had frozen in the parking lot turning it into an ice rink.

“He never came out of the building. They found part of his body this morning,” the manager answered. Although he hadn’t seen it, he heard that it had been pretty gruesome. He swung open the door and said, “Here’s his apartment.”

“Thanks,” Detective Stafford said. He stepped inside the small efficiency apartment and looked around. There was a twin bed pushed up against a wall with a small table next to it. The bed had a simple blanket spread over it and a single pillow. The table had a lamp and an alarm clock.

The manager said, “He didn’t have much.”

Detective Stafford went over to the kitchen table. There was a small stack of notebooks, a check book, and a shoebox of bills. He walked around the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator he found a quart of milk, a package of lunchmeat, and a jar of mustard. He opened the freezer and saw a stack of TV dinners. Shaking his head, he said, “This is pathetic.”

“He doesn’t even have a radio or television,” the manager said looking around the room.

Detective Stafford went over to the closet and opened the door. There were six uniforms, four shirts, and two pairs of jeans on hangers. The shelf had a dozen pairs of socks and underwear. He said, “He sure didn’t spend much on a wardrobe.”

“Have you found anything that identifies a next of kin?” the manager asked.

Detective Stafford looked over at the notebooks and said, “I need to check out the notebooks. Maybe one of them is an address book.”

Detective Stafford picked up the notebook that was open. One glance let him know that it was some kind of journal. He read the last entry with a frown. He flipped back a few pages and read another entry. An unopened letter fell out. He picked it up and examined the envelope. He said, “That’s odd. This was sent to him six months ago and he never opened it.”

There wasn’t a telephone in the apartment. Using his cell phone, he called the station. It took two minutes to get a name and telephone number corresponding to the address. He requested that a police car be dispatched to the address. He closed the cell phone and then said, “We may have found a relative of his.”

“Good,” the manager said. He looked around and said, “I’m glad that you’re here. No one would believe that someone didn’t clean out the apartment.”

“You can say that again,” Detective Stafford said. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.

“Aren’t we going to leave?” the manager asked.

Detective Stafford answered, “I’d rather wait until we hear back from the officer I requested to check out the address.”

“Okay,” the manager said. He pulled out a chair and took a seat.

Detective Stafford flipped through the notebook looking over some of the entries. He paused to read one of the longer entries. There was another unopened letter in the notebook. Frowning, he put down the notebook and picked up the next one in the stack. There were three unopened letters in it. He opened the notebook and read the first page. He went through the entire stack of notebooks looking at the first page. He put the last notebook on top of the stack and said, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I better call the chief,” Detective Stafford said ignoring the question.

Chief Calhoun opened the door and looked at the woman standing there. He recognized her from a long time in the past. He said, “Mrs. Reynolds. I’m Chief Calhoun.”

“Hello, Officer,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

“Please come in.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She stepped into the apartment and looked around. Frowning, she said, “It is so empty.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Chief Calhoun said.

Her lower lip trembled. She said, “I came over here to see him yesterday. He shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” Chief Calhoun said.

“How did you know that?”

“It was the last entry in his journal,” Chief Calhoun said.

“You read his journal?” she asked.

“Detective Stafford was looking for someone to call. That’s how he found an unopened letter from you,” Chief Calhoun said.

“Unopened?”

“Yes. There are a number of letters from you and they are all unopened.”

The woman appeared to shrink. Covering her eyes with her hands, she said, “Oh God! He never knew.”

“Knew what?”

“You better read the letters,” Mrs. Reynolds said feeling sick to her stomach.

“You are giving me permission to read them?” Chief Calhoun asked wanting to make sure that he had explicit permission.

“Yes. You should read them in the order that I sent them. It will all make sense that way,” Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked around for a chair to sit on. When she didn’t find one, she went over to the bed and sat down on it.

Chief Calhoun went over the table and shook the notebooks one by one to get the letters to fall out. He took a minute to organize the letters in the order in which they had been sent. He opened the first envelope and removed the folded letter from it. He read the first few lines and then said, “If I remember correctly, Greg is Samuel’s brother.”

“Did you know them?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.

“I was the first officer at the scene of the murder,” Chief Calhoun answered.

“Just keep reading.”

Chief Calhoun read the rest of the letter. He said, “Leukemia. Is Greg okay?”

“Just keep reading.”

The next letter described how Samuel’s father had died of a heart attack. There was a polite plea for Samuel to get tested to see if he was a suitable bone marrow donor for his brother. He said, “I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you.”

“You must have been angry that Samuel never answered this letter,” Chief Calhoun said. He could imagine her waiting for a response from Samuel. It must have broken her heart to watch one son suffering from a disease while the other son failed to help.

“I was, but you need to read the rest of the letters,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

The next letter was a much less polite request for Samuel to get tested. There was even a reference to the murder in the form of demanding that he do the right thing for once in his life. Chief Calhoun asked, “Did Greg contact Samuel about this?”

“Just keep reading,” Mrs. Reynolds answered. She stood up and said, “I need to get something to drink to settle my stomach.”

“There’s not much in his kitchen. You’ve got your choice of milk or tap water,” Chief Calhoun said.

“I’ll have to go with tap water,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

He picked up the next envelope and opened it. He unfolded the letter and read it. This was a blistering demand that Samuel help save his brother. The language employed did not hide the fact that the family believed that the brother who was a murderer should be forced to save the life of the brother who was a saint. He hoped that he never received such a pointed letter as this one.