Final Breath

He noticed an envelope that had fallen in the gap beneath the drawer, and he reached into the opening and took it out. It was an old bill from a place called the Bon Marche. It even smelled old. The envelope was addressed to Dr. John Simms at this address. The postmark in the corner was dated May 2, '89.

Eli peeked into the empty drawer sleeve and noticed more envelopes trapped against the breakfront's backing. He reached into the opening again and felt something sharp stab his finger. 'Shit!' he muttered, pulling his hand out. He checked his index finger and saw a small splinter at the tip. He managed to squeeze it out, then he reached inside the drawer again until his whole arm was in there. He felt three envelopes and one piece of loose paper. But as he took them out of the drawer, he could tell none of them had been the letter from his dad. All of them were old, stained, and musty-smelling. There was another bill to Dr. Simms, and a loose receipt from Bailey/Coy Books from 1987. The second envelope was addressed to Ms. Loretta Sayers-Landau here at the Tudor Court Apartments.

'Oh, my God,' Eli whispered.

The return address on back showed the note was from R. Landau on McGraw Street in Seattle. Eli pulled a birthday card from the envelope. The cover showed an old black-and-white photo of a little girl in a party hat. She was about to blow out the candles on her birthday cake. The preprinted inside message read: ANOTHER YEAR YOUNGER! Below that was a note:

Dear Loretta,

I know you don't want to hear from me. But this is your birthday, and I need you to know that I'm thinking of you & wishing you well. Happy Birthday.

Always, Robert

Eli looked at the fourth envelope--addressed in sloppy script to Loretta Sayers here at the Tudor Court, again. There was no return address, just Hallmark on the back flap. The postmark read: NOV 6, '74. Only a few days later, Loretta and her son would be dead.

Eli reached into the envelope. It was another card--a cheesy photograph of a couple embracing on a bluff in front of an orange sunset. They wore really ugly polyester-looking clothes from the seventies. 'Someone Special Like You...' was preprinted in swirling script at the bottom of the card. Inside, in the same script: '...Makes My Day Complete.'

Above and below this sappy sentiment was a note in the same sloppy script:

Dear Loretta,

You can't just stop seeing me. It isn't fair & I won't stand for it. Maybe you think you can treat your husband that way, but I'm not him. We love each other & you know it. If you don't see me again, you'll be sorry. Only a whore would act this way. Do you know how much you've hurt me? I deserve better. I've been very good to you. I'm so angry at you & yet despite everything I still love you. Please let me be with you at least one more time. Despite everything I still love you.

Chris

Eli didn't know who Chris was. In everything he'd read about Loretta Sayers, he hadn't run across that name. But obviously, Chris was some lover Loretta had scorned. And he was so mad and so much in love with her, he'd practically threatened her if she didn't see him again. 'Despite everything I still love you,' he'd said that twice.

The old Hallmark card had been stuck in the back of the breakfront all these years. Obviously, the police hadn't seen it; otherwise, this Chris person would have been a suspect in the deaths of Loretta and Earl.

Eli wondered why Loretta would save a correspondence like this unless it somehow amused her that she could drive a lover crazy. Or perhaps Earl had walked in on his mother reading it, and she'd stashed Chris's card in the drawer. The same thing had happened just a few days ago when he'd walked in on his mom reading that letter from his dad.

Eli raced up to his room, and found the number for Evergreen Point Manor. He called them from the phone in his mother's room. When the operator answered, he asked to talk to Vera Cormier. 'She might be out in the garden if she's not in her room,' Eli said. 'It's really important that I talk to her.'

While he waited, Eli heard a beep on the line--another call, probably his uncle again. Part of him really wanted to tell Uncle Kyle what he'd just discovered. But he was still angry and hurt. The beep sounded again, but Eli ignored it.

Finally, he heard a click, then ring tones. After the second one, somebody picked up. 'Hello?'

He recognized Vera's voice. 'Hi, this is Eli,' he said. 'We talked the other day--you know, about Loretta and Earl Sayers...'

'Well, hello again, Eli. How are you?'

'Fine, thanks. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm wondering if Mrs. Sayers ever mentioned someone named Chris. Like a boyfriend, maybe? Do you remember that name?'

'No, dear, I'm sorry...'

'Maybe Chris was one of the other neighbors,' he suggested.

'No, that doesn't ring a bell,' she replied.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure, dear. I don't remember anyone named Chris.'

He sighed. 'Okay, well, thank you, Mrs. Cormier. Have a nice day.'

'You, too, bye now.' Then he heard a click.

Undaunted, Eli dug into the pockets of his cargo pants until he found a business card. Then he dialed the office number for Burton C. Demick.

'Rayburn, Demick, and Gill,' the woman answered. 'Mr. Demick's office, this is Cheryl. How can I help you?'

'Yes, is Mr. Demick in, please?'

'Who's calling?'

'Um, my name's Eli, and I met him yesterday. I was there with my uncle.'

'One minute, please.'

While he waited, Eli sat down on the edge of his mother's bed. It wasn't long before the woman came back on the line. 'I'm sorry. Mr. Demick is in a meeting. Would you like to leave your number?'

'Um, that's okay. Thank you.' Then Eli hung up.

He was better off talking with Mr. Demick in person. There was a good chance he knew this Chris person--or at least he might have heard Earl talk about him. In fact, maybe Chris was short for Christine. Chris could have been a girl. That would explain why the marriage to Mr. Landau didn't work out. Maybe Loretta had been a lesbian.

He remembered his uncle saying yesterday that they should have changed their clothes before visiting the law firm. So Eli retreated to his room and put on a clean white short-sleeve shirt, long navy blue pants, and a striped tie. His good shoes were horribly uncomfortable, so he just put on some black Converse All-Stars. He got some more change for the bus, and just in case, he dug out that twenty-dollar bill with the missing corners the psychic lady had torn off.

With Chris's Hallmark card in his hand, he hurried downstairs.

The telephone rang again. Eli hesitated, waiting for the machine to come on. He glanced down at the envelope. This could be evidence, he thought. He shouldn't just be carrying it around. Ducking into his mother's office, he found a big manila envelope, and slipped Chris's correspondence inside it.

Meanwhile, the machine let out a beep, and he heard his uncle again: 'Eli, it's Uncle Kyle giving it another shot here. Please, pick up. Please? Okay, I'm convinced something is seriously wrong here. I'm calling the police. If you're there, please pick up. If you get this message--'

Eli snatched up the cordless. 'Hi, Uncle Kyle.'

'Oh, thank God!' his uncle cried. 'I was convinced you'd been abducted! Why did you just disappear like that?'

'I heard you talking to Mom upstairs,' Eli muttered.

There was dead silence on the other end of the line.

'I'm sorry that you got stuck with me,' Eli added.

'Oh, Eli, I'm such an ass,' his uncle said woefully. 'Please, don't say that. It's not true. I was just mad at your mom. Listen, stay put, and I'll come pick you up. We'll go do something fun. Let me make it up to you...'