Letters From the Grave
and wondered if you have any rooms available?”
“We have only a few left. They’re our most expensive, but they have river views and full suite accommodations.”
“Ah. That should be all right.”
“Do you want to know the rates?”
“No. Here’s my credit card.”
She was hopeful that Jake hadn’t cancelled it yet or reported it stolen. He didn’t use it much and might not even know it was missing. There was a moment of alarm when the woman challenged her name compared to the card, but seemed to accept her story that it was her father’s card, under her maiden name. It was probably not the first time that someone spent the night without prior reservations after a spat with her husband. The desk clerk didn’t question another thing.
“Will you need help with your luggage, Miss?”
“Ah, No. I don’t have much.”
The room was spectacular. In fact, it was two rooms and an incredible bath. The furnishings were expensive. She was surrounded by luxury. There were floor-to-ceiling French doors that opened to a magnificent view of the river from a narrow iron-railed balcony. She savored the moist air and opened all the windows to enjoy the full ambiance. This was glorious.
She ordered room service and a bottle of white wine. She didn’t know anything about wine and just asked the steward to recommend something. She ate at the dining table sitting close to the open doors with white shear curtains, wafting silently around her. She felt like she was living in one of those perfume commercials she’d seen on television. Even if it was for only one night, she would savor this evening for the rest of her life. That night, she lay awake in the open air, listening to the sounds of the street and waterfront.
In the morning, she lavished in the spa tub for an hour, enjoying the bath soaps dissolved in the emulsion, flowing through jets of pulsating water. She’d never had such an experience before. Her eyes closed, and she tried to imagine living a lifestyle that would never be possible for her. She was a whore, a gutter-dwelling prostitute who would lose her looks soon and probably die. It didn’t matter. At least, she’d had some months of life as an ordinary person with Jake and this brief taste of luxury. The best she would ever have for the rest of her life.
Stepping from the tub, her skin was wrinkled and red, but she felt a kind of refreshment like never before. The towels were huge and fluffy. They felt bulky but light against her skin, absorbing moisture without pressure. Every towel she had ever used before was a sopping rag in seconds. The hotel provided terrycloth robes and slippers.
She had an amazing breakfast of fresh fruit, crème fraiche and toast, served by the open window again. She wanted to enjoy being served, as time stood still. The morning air was quiet with a chill that would soon turn muggy. The sky was grey and smelled like rain would be falling soon.
After dressing in her best clothes, she put the “privacy please” sign on the door knob and took the elevator to the lobby. As the door opened, she walked straight to the large entry doors without looking around, self-conscious about her humble appearance compared to the other guests and even the hotel staff.
She turned right along East Bay Street, looking through windows at boutique women’s clothing stores. At one, she liked a mannequin, and went inside. It was awkward. She’d never been in a clothing store and felt as though everyone was looking at her. An older woman in a beautifully tailored dress approached her when she entered. “Can I help you?”
Callie tried to speak slowly in complete sentences, hoping to hide her lack of education. “Aw, I was just admiring your display in the window.”
“That’s a beautiful ensemble, dear. It’s all part of the new Rudy Getz collection. The white pants are charmeuse with wide legs, and the azure blue Scoopneck top is hand stitched ribbed-knit silk jersey, which is really comfortable. It would look lovely on your trim figure.”
Do you have it in my size?”
“Oh, I imagine so, but would you like to look around at some of our other fashions. That one is almost a thousand dollars. Then you would also need shoes to match.”
“No. I don’t want to look around. Can I get it today?”
“Well, the pants will need to be hemmed. Are you staying nearby?”
“I’m at the Westminster Hotel.”
“Oh, lovely. Many of our customers like to stay there. Very luxurious.”
“I like it. I have my daddy’s credit card, and he said to buy something nice, so I’d like to buy that top and pants.”
“Okay. We can have it delivered to your room later today.”
She spent the next hour being treated to fittings and different shoe combinations, and a glass of wine. She had no idea shopping could be like this. Everything she had ever worn had come from second-hand stores.
That afternoon, the garments were delivered to her room, and she dressed immediately. The pants seemed to glide across her skin as she walked around the room and out onto the balcony overlooking the river. The cool late fall breeze sent ruffled waves across her body, making the clothes feel weightless. She had never considered herself beautiful until now and would cherish this moment forever. She went into the bathroom and styled her hair more conservatively than usual. It was a feeling she wished could last, but knew otherwise.
Returning down to the lobby, she intentionally walked around, sensing the eyes of others watching and admiring her. She’d been stared at before, but for looking like a slut, not like this. It was humbling and gratifying, something new to her. She asked for the business center and was given a private cubicle with a computer and internet service. She’d never had a computer before living with Jake and he’d taught her to use the Internet. She did a quick search and memorized the simple directions. She thanked the doorman as she left, walking down East Bay Street again, past the boutique. She stopped and looked at her reflection in the window compared to the mannequin. Not bad. She continued several more blocks along the river front then turned away from the historic tranquility toward the city center. It wasn’t far to her destination.
The Savannah Police Department station was in a small single-story building rimmed by massive oak trees with Spanish moss, hanging everywhere. The chilly evening air had a characteristic musty smell common in older areas of the Deep South. She went inside and walked up to the desk officer.
He looked at her pleasantly. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“Um. Yes, I want to surrender to the police.”
He was startled. “What for, Miss?”
“I robbed a man of a huge amount of gold coins in Louisiana.”
“Well, that’s not in our jurisdiction.”
“I also used his credit card illegally here in Savannah at the Westminster Hotel and the store where I bought these clothes.”
“Why are you turning yourself in, if I can ask?” He stood up as he asked the question.
She looked down. “I don’t really know. Maybe, just because it was wrong.”
He looked at her with disbelief. “In that case, I need to tell you that whatever you say...”
“Yeah, I know the rest.”
Late that night, Jake was back home after a routine day of ferrying workers back and forth to oil rigs off the Louisiana Coast. He was about to go to bed when the phone rang. It was Detective Tibbs. “Mr. Ramsey, there’s been a development. Can you come down to the station in the morning?”
“What kind of development?”
“I’m still getting details, but I think we’re getting closer to solving your case.”
“Sure. I guess so. What time?”
“Let’s say ten o’clock if that works for you.” It had been a long day for Tibbs, and there was at least one other person he had to call that needed to be at the PD in the morning with him and Ramsey.
Jake went to bed and felt odd once again that the loss of the coin collection didn’t bother him more. He just couldn’t get over it. After more than thirty years of in
vesting in the gold, it seemed intangible, like something he’d done out of compulsion. He wasn’t even sure what he’d do if it was returned. One thing about losing it was the understanding that the coins really provided no quality of life for him and never would if they just sat in the safe. He’d been a fool to keep that much gold inside a cheap ranch home that was generally unsecure. He closed his eyes and imagined what he would do if the coins ever returned.
In the morning, he called Operations and explained that he would be in around noon. His flight schedule was not critical so they could work around his absence. He cleaned up the house after breakfast and even made his bed, something Callie had insisted on.
It took less than ten minutes to drive to the Lafayette PD station. The weather was clear and cool, with humidity below seventy percent. He used the truck heater on low heat for the first time this year. It was nearly Thanksgiving week, and he thought about being alone again, like all the other holidays. Whatever the new “development” was, it would never replace the sense of family that he had briefly enjoyed then lost again.
Entering the PD, Detective Tibbs signaled him to come back to the small meeting room familiar to Jake. When he entered, another man in a business suit was finishing a text message then stood as Tibbs introduced Special Agent Jeremy Wallace of the New Orleans FBI Division. Wallace was average height and weight and looked to be in top physical condition. He was tan and blond,