Letters From the Grave

started singing along, but substituted his own lyrics about “her cheatin’ heart!”

  Revelation

  The dinner with BJ was great, but Jake was getting tired. He hurt everywhere and desperately needed a good night’s sleep, although worrying about Callie would probably prevent it.

  When BJ dropped him off, the Crime Lab truck was still there, and a uniformed officer was standing on the front lawn taking to T.W. Boudreaux. When Jake approached, T.W. ended his discussion and said, “Hey, Jake! I heard about you on the news tonight. That was some ordeal. How you feelin’? You look like shit.”

  Jake chuckled, but really didn’t want to talk to his neighbor tonight. “Thanks, T.W., you look pretty awful yourself.”

  T.W. smiled, “It’s good to know you all right, my friend, but, shucks, I didn’t even know you was in trouble out there. I don’t think they’s anything on the news ‘bout you bein’ lost at sea and all.”

  Jake put a hand on his neighbor’s shoulder, then dropped it as he walked over the officer standing nearby. “How are things going, officer?”

  “Hello, sir. I think they’re done inside and just collecting stuff. Some of your neighbors have come by, so I’ve been keeping them outside and asking them questions.”

  “Any clues about what happened?”

  “Not really. It seems like everyone goes to bed at sundown around here -- not much of a neighborhood watch.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t surprise me. Can I go inside?”

  “Sure, but ask the lab folks if it’s okay.”

  The officer had obviously heard the whole story about his survival and was nice to Jake, nicer than he would have expected.

  About half an hour later, everyone was gone, and Jake stripped for bed, in his own bed for a change. To his amazement the next morning, he had slept soundly until dawn. The pain in his muscles and joints was even worse, so his breakfast cereal was augmented with four Advil capsules. He hadn’t checked the flight schedule but assumed he was off the list for a few days to recuperate. BJ would call if he was needed.

  After cleaning up, something Callie insisted on, he went out to get the paper. To his amazement, he was on the front page. The story was well written, making him look like superman. Fortunately, no picture was included to spoil the image. He chuckled to himself and would save the article.

  Before reaching the front door, he heard the phone and rushed to get there by the fifth ring. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Ramsey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Ramsey, this is Detective Tibbs of the Lafayette PD. Could you come down to the station for a meeting?”

  “Yeah, no problem. When”

  “Sometime this morning, if possible.”

  Jake called CHI Operations to check flight schedules, and he was listed as furloughed (with pay), giving him a few days to recover. He locked the house and drove downtown. Tibbs saw him park and met him near the entrance. He took Jake to a small windowless room and closed the door. “Mr. Ramsey, we have some lab results, and I want to keep you in the loop as we investigate your robbery.” Tibbs had a thin folder on the table in front of him.

  “I appreciate that Detective. Did the lab find anything?” Jake was looking at the folder, which remained closed.

  Tibbs answered, “Well, maybe. The Scene Investigators took some fingerprints from around the safes, but they were mostly wiped cleaned. In fact, someone used a spray cleaner to really hide things. They got some smears and some partials, but nothing useful.”

  Jake pursed his lips. “Hum. I wish the thieves were more careless.” It was frustrating.

  Tibbs went on, “So, they also checked the kitchen and the bathroom. Crooks sometimes help themselves or use the facilities if you know what I mean.”

  “Did that give ‘em anything?”

  “We’re not quite sure.” Tibbs patted the folder. “We found evidence of a woman that’s wanted for questioning in Texas.” He had an inquisitive look on his face.

  “Ah. I told you that my friend’s daughter was staying with me and was missing.”

  Tibbs opened the folder and pulled out a police photo, handing it to Jake. “Do you recognize her?”

  Jake stared at the grainy image for a moment. It could be Callie, but the girl was younger, with stringy hair and a defiant expression. The lighting was poor, not a professional picture, and not flattering at all. “That could be Callie. I’d say it’s ninety percent her.”

  Tibbs signaled for Jake to place the picture back in the file, which he held open. “The female in the picture is Callie Murray according to the Tulsa PD. She’s a prostitute with an assortment of arrests, including some minor drug possessions.

  Jake stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t know what or who you think she is. The girl staying with me was Callie Lowe from somewhere around Abilene, Texas. She lived with her mother until she died, then came to stay with me.”

  Tibbs glanced down momentarily, somewhat sympathetic. “Mr. Ramsey, the prints at your place were from Ms. Murray.”

  “Do you think she had something to do with Callie’s disappearance?”

  “Mr. Ramsey, I think you’re missing the point. There were this female’s prints all over your house, even on the TV remote. I think, sir, that you’ve been sheltering an imposter.”

  “It can’t be. She’s my friend’s daughter. She had his letters to her mother.”

  “Well, sir, I don’t know what to say. The prints were all from Callie Murray.”

  Jake put his elbows on the table and clenched his hands together, interweaving his fingers and closing his eyes. “Detective, I ... I still don’t believe it entirely. Can I see that picture again?”

  “Sure.” Tibbs handed Jake the picture and watched him stare at it for several seconds before putting it down.

  “You know. She was incredible to me. I guess I needed to believe her story. She was caring and considerate. She didn’t have anything or want anything.”

  Tibbs was sympathetic, “Look. Sometimes we all want to believe in something. She just did a good job taking you in. We see girls like her occasionally. They grow up street smart or dead. From what I know, she was basically kicked out of her home as a young kid and lived on the streets half her life. She had to sell her body to stay alive. Situations like that, you lose touch with reality. She’s not normal. She also knows how to manipulate people. It’s part of her craft.”

  Jake stared at him for several seconds. “You know, Tibbs, she lived with me for months and never asked for anything. She got me sobered up and back in shape. She fixed my diet and gave me reason to want to live again. Hell, she saved my life when you think about it. If not for her, I would have drowned and not cared very much. Thinking of her and having better physical strength – I needed it all to survive. I owe her my life.”

  Tibbs shook his head slowly. “Well. Let’s not forget that she likely stole from you.”

  Jake said, “Yeah, but she didn’t do this alone, I know that. Someone set this all up and played her.”

  Tibbs took on a stern expression, “All right, there’s some more you need to talk about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Did she say anything about where she was before coming to visit you?”

  “Only that she came from Abilene.”

  “How did she get here?”

  “By bus. That’s what she said.”

  “She didn’t have a car?”

  “No. She had a backpack and a metal box with some letters from my Army pal to his wife. That’s all.”

  “Any idea where she got the letters?”

  “I don’t know. They were sent to Julie Morgan in Mineral Wells thirty years ago.”

  Tibbs was writing notes while Jake spoke. “Okay, Mr. Ramsey, that’s what we know so far, and we’ll keep in touch.”

  “Wait a minute, Tibbs. Tell me what’s going on. Do you think I was deliberately hiding a criminal?”

&
nbsp; Tibbs looked at him for a moment. “Okay. No, we don’t think you did anything wrong. You don’t have any motive. I believe you were duped.” He paused for a moment then continued. “Ms. Murray is wanted for questioning in circumstances surrounding her mother’s death, her real mother, and the disappearance of a neighbor.”

  Jake was dumbfounded. He couldn’t imagine the girl living with him involved in a murder. He just shook his head and stood to leave the room without saying another word. His world was shattered once more. Nothing about Callie was real. She wasn’t part of Bobby. He had wanted it to be true and never questioned her honesty. What a fool! He felt a tension headache coming on.

  The mid-day autumn heat felt unusually hot, probably because his mood had turned gloomy. For three decades, he’d pushed the memory of Bobby further from his consciousness, but when Callie came into his life, it all changed. He felt strangely vindicated from his youthful foolishness by taking her in, but it was all a smoke screen. He walked slowly down the walk to the parking area. He should have felt bad about the missing coins, his life’s investment and hobby, but losing the illusion of some sort of reconciliation with Bobby was worse. It was all a lie.

  His pickup was parked in direct sunlight, and it felt like a furnace inside the cab. He sat for a moment then turned the key until the old V8 rumbled. He shifted into reverse and backed out of the stall without fastening his seatbelt, which is something he never did before. The windows remained up as perspiration bathed his body. The windows began steaming up as the truck gained speed on the streets. He was