Return to Sender: A Tale of Vengeance Beyond the Grave
Justice...delayed
"What in the bloody hell is this?"
The package sat there, mocking me. Its return address matched my own.
"Why would you mail yourself a package?" Claire asked.
I rolled my eyes. "Do you honestly think that's what I'd do…mail myself something? What…is it a reminder? You know, like how I now have to make lists for myself so I don't forget the littlest things…like locking the door behind me as I leave, or taking the keys with me so I don't lock myself out?"
She nodded. "Maybe. Why don't you open it…that should solve the issue." She plopped onto the tattered green chair that had become my favorite place in the world…a world where everything was familiar. And safe.
With two fingers, I picked up the small, unassuming package by the string that wrapped around all four sides. It was as light as a feather. I shook it slightly, then listened…no sound. I even sniffed it, which made Claire giggle softly. I looked at her. "You never know what someone might do these days. Just because I appear to be both sender and recipient, that doesn't mean something bad couldn't be in the works."
Her brows reminded me of her mother's—dark and nearly straight; and in this case, they nearly kissed. "Dad…come on, nobody's got it in for you." She sighed, then held out her hand. "Here… I'll open it for you."
It was my turn to frown. My only child? “No, that's okay. Let me think about it. I…I'll open it later…besides, I've got all of this other mail to deal with first.
Claire cocked her head, shrugged, and then hopped up. "Okay, suit yourself. Here's your favorite chair back. I'm going to grab some Parmesan for the spaghetti tonight… totally forgot it when I was at the store."
"Now you're forgetting?" I hoped to take her mind off the stupid package.
"Ha, ha, Dad. It wasn't on the list, so I guess you could say I'm off the hook?"
I smiled at her, that angelic face much like my own Margaret's, God rest her soul.
"Don't rush… the meat sauce always tastes better the longer it rests."
"Love you Dad…be right back."
***
"Hey Mike…found him."
"Cause of death?"
The coroner frowned. "First guess, old age…he looked to be, oh, I don't know, 70? Maybe a heart attack? You'll have my report in a couple of weeks."
"What do we know about him?" Mike asked his partner. He spotted something on the floor near one leg of the green chair, the only piece of furniture in the living room. He leaned closer to get a better look. It was a small package, wrapped in brown paper that was partially torn open.
"Hey, you get everything?" he asked the other detective, pointing at the package. The man nodded. "Yeah…photographer's done, we've dusted. Just check it into evidence when you're done."
Mike reached carefully lifted the package. It felt light. It's probably empty anyway.
"So…neighbor says his name is David Rich," said Oscar. "He was a widower and lived alone in this apartment for the last five or so years."
"Any kids?"
"No…neighbor says he had a daughter who went missing as an adult."
"Really? When was that?"
"I'll have to confirm, but she said it was around the same time he moved in here. He'd told Mrs. Franks—that's who called it in—that he was from D.C."
"Yeah? Okay, check it out and put it in the report. May not mean anything, but who knows. Anything else?"
"No."
"Got it…thanks."
"Yep."
Mike suddenly remembered the package he was holding. The deceased had sent the package to himself. "Odd…why would he do that?" Mike carefully lifted the one open flap and peeked into the box. There was a folded piece of notebook paper inside. The writing reminded him of his grandfather's; shaky, but still legible.
"He killed Claire. Remember that charm bracelet you bought her that first Christmas without Marge? Remember finding it hanging out of the locked changebox in the laundry room? It was Reggie…the landlord. Don't forget this…when he comes to collect the rent, that's when you'll make him confess…to tell you what he did with her. Don't let him get away with it."
***
The landlord shook his head. The place was a wreck. It would take weeks before he'd be able to get the apartment in good enough shape to fill the vacancy, which meant he'd be losing money until then. "I ought to send the police a bill for damages," he thought. But he knew better…they might get a little too interested in him, and he couldn't have that. He had a nice thing going here and he wasn't about to mess that up.
He sighed. I wonder who might apply to the advert. It's been too long... The girl was his first. So beautiful…she'd even smiled at him as she left the apartment that night. He never stopped to question why he'd done it…it was a thought that came into his head and he just did it.
But if he were to be honest with himself, which admittedly he rarely was, he'd say that it was something he'd long wanted to do. But that night…there was something in the air…something that took hold of him and gave him the strength to follow through on fulfilling his deepest desires.
Pushing away that familiar itch, he tried to focus on finishing his assessment. Reginald Dunbar was nothing if not thorough. He prided himself on it. The list completed, he’d send it to his handyman, who would get everything in good shape for him.
With some extra compensation the man might move a little faster, but Reginald was torn between spending the extra cash on quicker repairs, and waiting to find another beauty who needed cheap rent.
Reginald paused, taking one last glance before leaving the apartment when he noticed a small box sitting in the middle of the floor. That's odd…I swear that wasn't there when I came in. Maybe you're working too hard, Reg…some time at the beach might do you some good. He decided against it though, the second the idea entered his brain. It would set the hunger into overdrive. He needed to exercise restraint. He sighed, then picked up the box. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small package.
He figured that, as it was already partially opened, why not see what was inside. Besides, as the landlord, the deceased tenant's belongings, such as they were, were his to do with what he wanted.
Inside the box he found a pair of handcuffs—no key, he noticed—and a charm bracelet.
If you feel so inclined, I’m always in need of that delicious beverage known as coffee. Thank you!
Intriguing! 😲