shut snug. She opened and closed it three times with the same result. Maybe something from the drawer below was protruding up and blocking the way. She pulled the drawer all the way out to see if there was an obstruction. And there it was, a key taped to the inside of the back wall of the desk, protruding from the wall just enough to keep the drawer from closing tightly.
She removed the key. It was small and almost straight. A number was etched on it. 1026 . The key was to a post office box. She put the key in her pocket, closed the drawer, and rechecked the envelopes on Reverend Aldridge’s desk—the unopened correspondence. All of it was junk mail, and nothing was addressed to a post office box.
When she returned to the living room, Lenore had poured herself a drink, about three fingers’ worth of something brown.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Aldridge, but did your husband have any other place where he might have stored valuables?”
Lenore took a good swallow and made a face. It was obvious she didn’t drink often.
“Valuables? What exactly are you talking about?” Lenore was back on her horse. “I have a wedding ring and a string of pearls, some earrings of my mother’s. That’s the extent of our so-called valuables. We didn’t keep them locked up. We have a copy of our will in a safe deposit box at the Fondren office of Plantation National. You can talk to the bank if you like.”
Darla already had. There was no cash in the safe deposit box, just the usual title papers and their wills.
Lenore took another swallow. This one looked like it went down easier.
“I saw a mail slot in the door, Mrs. Aldridge. Is this where you receive all your correspondence?”
“I suppose you have some sort of court order that lets you read our mail?”
Darla showed her the key. “I found this in Reverend Aldridge’s study. Taped to the inside behind his top desk drawer.”
Lenore served herself a quick pour this time, not as much, and took another swallow, finishing most of it without making a face, then wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It seemed to give her courage.
“That desk was a present. Maybe the previous owner hid it there.”
“Are you saying you didn’t know about the key?”
“What are you implying now? In fact, I don’t really care what you’re implying. I just want you to leave. You can come back tomorrow. It’s trash day. You can go out on the curb and pick through my garbage if it will make you feel any better.”
“I need for you to answer my question, Mrs. Aldridge. Were you aware that your husband had a post office box? Or at least had a key to post office box?
“Is this how the police treat the victim’s family up in Philadelphia?”
Darla waited.
“All right, no. I don’t know anything about that key or any post office box. Do you think any of that matters to me now?”
“I’ll send the key back when I’m finished with it. Plus any mail we come across, unless we feel it’s pertinent to the investigation.”
“My husband was murdered, and we all know who the killer was. If you were any kind of a detective, you’d be helping Tommy Reylander find the evidence needed to convict him. I’d like you to leave now. You can let yourself out the same way you came in.”
As Darla reached the front door, Lenore called out to her, “Hugh Cavannah would roll over in his grave if he knew the way you behaved.”
The Fondren Post Office had a box ten twenty-six. Darla tried the key, and the door opened. The mailbox was empty.
She introduced herself to the postmaster, telling him that she was working a case, without saying which case. She figured he probably could guess.
“I need some information about one of your post office boxes—box ten twenty-six.” She showed him the key. “Can you check your records and tell who rents this box?”
The postmaster disappeared into the back room and returned with a record book.
“It was rented for 12 months, a little less than a year
She removed the key. It was small and almost straight. A number was etched on it. 1026 . The key was to a post office box. She put the key in her pocket, closed the drawer, and rechecked the envelopes on Reverend Aldridge’s desk—the unopened correspondence. All of it was junk mail, and nothing was addressed to a post office box.
When she returned to the living room, Lenore had poured herself a drink, about three fingers’ worth of something brown.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Aldridge, but did your husband have any other place where he might have stored valuables?”
Lenore took a good swallow and made a face. It was obvious she didn’t drink often.
“Valuables? What exactly are you talking about?” Lenore was back on her horse. “I have a wedding ring and a string of pearls, some earrings of my mother’s. That’s the extent of our so-called valuables. We didn’t keep them locked up. We have a copy of our will in a safe deposit box at the Fondren office of Plantation National. You can talk to the bank if you like.”
Darla already had. There was no cash in the safe deposit box, just the usual title papers and their wills.
Lenore took another swallow. This one looked like it went down easier.
“I saw a mail slot in the door, Mrs. Aldridge. Is this where you receive all your correspondence?”
“I suppose you have some sort of court order that lets you read our mail?”
Darla showed her the key. “I found this in Reverend Aldridge’s study. Taped to the inside behind his top desk drawer.”
Lenore served herself a quick pour this time, not as much, and took another swallow, finishing most of it without making a face, then wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It seemed to give her courage.
“That desk was a present. Maybe the previous owner hid it there.”
“Are you saying you didn’t know about the key?”
“What are you implying now? In fact, I don’t really care what you’re implying. I just want you to leave. You can come back tomorrow. It’s trash day. You can go out on the curb and pick through my garbage if it will make you feel any better.”
“I need for you to answer my question, Mrs. Aldridge. Were you aware that your husband had a post office box? Or at least had a key to post office box?
“Is this how the police treat the victim’s family up in Philadelphia?”
Darla waited.
“All right, no. I don’t know anything about that key or any post office box. Do you think any of that matters to me now?”
“I’ll send the key back when I’m finished with it. Plus any mail we come across, unless we feel it’s pertinent to the investigation.”
“My husband was murdered, and we all know who the killer was. If you were any kind of a detective, you’d be helping Tommy Reylander find the evidence needed to convict him. I’d like you to leave now. You can let yourself out the same way you came in.”
As Darla reached the front door, Lenore called out to her, “Hugh Cavannah would roll over in his grave if he knew the way you behaved.”
The Fondren Post Office had a box ten twenty-six. Darla tried the key, and the door opened. The mailbox was empty.
She introduced herself to the postmaster, telling him that she was working a case, without saying which case. She figured he probably could guess.
“I need some information about one of your post office boxes—box ten twenty-six.” She showed him the key. “Can you check your records and tell who rents this box?”
The postmaster disappeared into the back room and returned with a record book.
“It was rented for 12 months, a little less than a year
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