Letters From the Grave
favorite restaurants, looking at the hills. It was a special leisurely dinner, and Jake was quick to tell the waitress that they were getting married the following day, so the attention was extraordinary. That night, sitting in her great room surrounded by boxes, they enjoyed one last bottle of wine before going to bed as two single people. It wasn’t a night of passion. Both wanted to have a classic first married night together.
In the morning, Jake woke especially early and went to the kitchen for coffee, only to realize that there wasn’t any way to make it. He didn’t want to leave her alone. However remote the possibility that Ryan would break parole and follow them to Texas, it was still not something he would risk. He actually felt a little nervous about getting married. The finality of it was settling in. He was old-fashioned in that regard. No one in his family ever divorced, no matter the hardships. Marriage was a lifelong commitment, over and out.
The day was a blur. Friends invited them for breakfast, then final preparations were made. People started arriving around noon and light refreshments were brought by some of Julie’s friends. Around three, the Justice of the Peace arrived and a simple ceremony was conducted a half hour later with about fifty people in attendance, Julie’s friends and colleagues. The outdoor setting was magnificent with a brilliant blue sky, gentle breeze and tepid weather. Jake surprised Julie with an elegant ring that had cost almost two-month’s salary. He’d finally put some of his collection to use. The celebration continued into the evening at the nearby country club and neither Jake nor Julie wanted it to end, but midnight came quickly. It had been a remarkable day that both would cherish for the rest of their lives.
When they returned home to Julie’s house, they were thrilled to find that her girlfriends had stayed behind long enough to clean everything, leaving a chilled bottle of Champagne, beautiful flowers and a giant card with their messages of affection. She cried with a mixture of joy and sorrow, leaving it all behind, and about starting a new life with Jake. He was touched more deeply than he’d thought possible. He put his arms around her, “You know, I never thought I’d be calling anyone Mrs. Kohl.” They kissed passionately, like it was the first time. There was some unexplainable quality about being married that had been missing from his life. Julie had experienced it before, but was equally happy the second time around.
She said, “We better get going. I want this to be a special night that we’ll both remember forever.”
Jake took the bottle with them as they locked the front door. If Julie felt anything about leaving her house for the last time, it didn’t show. Their luggage had been in the car for hours.
It was only a short drive to the Silk Stocking Row Bed-and-Breakfast, near Lake Mineral Wells. Julie had driven by the historic Victorian mansion all her life without ever going inside. She wanted to spend her last night in town there.
When they opened the door to the entry, there was a small table nearby with an envelope, welcoming them to the Inn. The owners had gone to bed leaving the room key on the table. They held hands walking up the wide spiraling staircase to room number one at the end of the hall. He opened the door and let her enter the antique-furnished interior with a large post bed. On a side table, there was another bottle of wine and flowers. It was perfect. They spent the night like young lovers should.
The following morning, Monday, some last minute arrangements were concluded with the moving company and Mr. and Mrs. Jake Ramsey set out for their home in Lafayette. Along the way, they talked about finding a cottage near the ocean, probably along the Texas Coast that they could enjoy together except when Jake was flying. They would probably sell his house too and buy or rent a small apartment to use when he was on flight status. Another possibility was permanently operating from the Port Arthur facility. She fondled the ring throughout the trip. They didn’t talk about Ryan, but he was on their minds. With his presence in Lafayette, the plans to move away had more urgency.
They arrived in the afternoon, parking her car behind his truck. Several trips were required to unload the presents and suitcases. Jake chuckled that he hoped the suit would fit again if he ever needed to wear it. They both waved to T.W., who saluted with his beer can. Inside, after everything was in from the car, they embraced and Jake called her Mrs. Ramsey for the rest of the evening. After a quick snack before the sun went down, he reluctantly said, “I’m going to walk over and talk to T.W. briefly.”
“All right.” They didn’t mention why it was important, not wanting to spoil the evening.
Jake went out the front door, leaving it unlocked as long as he was in view.
He waved. “Hey, T.W., everything under control?”
“Well, welcome back, neighbor! Ever’ thing go according to plan? You married now?”
“Yep, we tied the knot, T.W., and it feels great!”
“Well, I wish you well, ma’ boy. Marriage is a blessed thing with the right woman – at least I’ve been told such.”
“T.W., you’re a piece of work, but, at least, you’re happy.”
“I spoze, Jake, I spoze.”
“Tell me, T.W., you seen any more of that skinny little fellow around while we were gone?”
T.W. took a long swig. Well, no, Jake, course I had me a bout ‘o indigestion that put me down for morn’a day. I couldn’t get outta bed.”
“You go to the doctor?”
“Nah. The docs down at the clinic tol’ me last time that I had a ticker problem and some kinda lung damage from all those years I smoked. They jus’ wanna put me in a hospital and stick a bounch ‘o tubes in me. I’d never come out alive! I can deal with it.”
Jake smiled at his dismissiveness. “Well, T.W., you take care of yourself, now. I’ll be seeing you. I have to go be with my new bride. See, you later.” Jake turned, waving his hand to signal that he was disengaging the conversation that could last for an hour if he didn’t break off. He’d learned what he could.
Investigation
Detective Tibbs had been a police officer for almost twenty years. He’d joined the force after serving four years in the Marines. He’d completed his college degree at night, majoring in Police Science, and been promoted to Detective (Sergeant) four years ago. He was a native of Lafayette, and disliked the stereotype of the lazy southerner that unfairly characterized his profession in Louisiana. He loved the state and loved his job. He was good at it. He got immense satisfaction from protecting the public. Right now, that meant getting Will Ryan back in prison where he belonged for the rest of his life.
He wasn’t prejudiced and accepted the idea that some criminals could be rehabilitated, especially if they had a non-violent past. Ryan had only been convicted of being a thief. Normally, that would not worry Tibbs. In Ryan’s case, though, he was a murderer. Tibbs trusted his judgment of people. He’d been right throughout his career, and he knew that Ryan was bad deep into his soul. He’d killed people in cold blood. It was never proven, but he was guilty nonetheless. Now he had killed two women in Lafayette. The city had its share of petty crime and domestic disputes, but impassionate cold-blooded murder was rare. They had just had two since Ryan arrived. They would end when he went back to prison, which was Tibbs’ mission.
Tibbs had no sympathy for childhood experiences of psychos like Ryan. So what? Having it tough doesn’t automatically excuse sociopathic behavior. Lots of people have it tough, but they don’t all become criminals. Moving up the criminal food chain to murder is a conscious decision, and Tibbs had a special hatred of killers, especially predators that targeted women. He would work day and night to get him locked up again.
Using information from Keats, Tibbs visited the restaurant where Ryan worked. He talked to the owner who never left the building from the time it was unlocked, until it closed each night. He talked to the man about keeping track of Ryan’s time on the job. He stopped short of accusing Ryan of murder with the restaurant owner, but he didn’t much care if Ryan got fired either. He
might be saving the owner from a thief, and maybe saving his life.
Tibbs also asked Keats to keep a log of Ryan’s time in and out of the house. This con had a plan: Tibbs could sense it. Ryan wasn’t going to finish his sentence on parole. He would break it sooner rather than later, and Ramsey was the logical target of his plan.
Tibbs called Jake, asking to come over and talk to him and his new wife before Ryan went back to work.
When he parked at the curb, Jake opened the door, inviting him in. “Hi, Tibbs.”
“Hi yourself, Jake ... ma’am.” Julie was standing nearby.
“Ah, Detective Tibbs, meet Julie, my wife.” She extended her hand and gave him a slight smile.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” Then Jake suggested they all sit. Tibbs continued addressing Julie first. “Ma’am, Jake probably told you how we worked on his case and later investigated the death of his friend, Mr. Jones.”
She shook her head in understanding, but didn’t talk. Tibbs continued. “Jake, I don’t want to alarm you or Mrs. Ramsey, but you need to take precautions, especially when you’re at work.”
Jake interjected. “We’ve discussed it, Tibbs.”
“Good. What I want to tell you is off the record and probably not right for me to be saying. This fellow Ryan is a