between him and the girl turned out to be superficial when I compared them. His bold stare kept him hidden in a way, but I guessed that he was a taker. She looked like a giver.
I turned to the filing cabinet. Its top drawer had been forced, so violently that it couldn’t be properly closed. It was full of letters carefully arranged among manila dividers. The postmarks ranged over the past six years.
I picked out a fairly recent one whose return address was the Santa Teresa Travel Agency, 920 Main Street.
Dear Mr. Broadhurst [the typed letter said] :
Have checked our files as per your request and confirm that your father, Mr. Leo Broadhurst, booked double passage on the
Swansea Castle
, due to sail from San Francisco for Honolulu (via Vancouver) on or about July 6, 1955. Passage paid for, but we cannot confirm that it was used.
Swansea Castle
has changed to Liberian registry, and 1955 owners and master are hard to trace. Please advise if you wish us to check further.
Faithfully yours,
Harvey Noble, Proprietor
I looked at an older letter which was handwritten on the stationery of a Santa Teresa church and signed by the pastor, a Reverend Lowell Riceyman.
Dear Stanley
[it said],
Your father Leo Broadhurst was one of my parishioners, in the sense that he sometimes attended Sunday services, as you may recall, but I have to confess that I never knew him at all well. I’m sure the fault must have been mine as much as his. He gave the impression of being a sportsman, an active and spirited man who enjoyed life. No doubt that is your recollection of him, too
.
May I suggest in all good feeling and sympathy that you be content with that recollection, and not pursue any further the course you have embarked on, against my advice. Your father chose to leave your mother and you, for reasons which neither you nor I can fathom. The heart has its reasons that the reason does not know. I think it is unwise for a son to attempt to delve too deeply into his father’s life. What man is without blame?
Think of your own life, Stanley. You have recently taken on the responsibilities of marriage—as I, having had the pleasure of performing the ceremony, have good cause to remember. Your wife is a fine and lovely girl, clearly more worthy of your living interest than those old passions of which you have written to me. The past can do very little for us—no more than it has already done, for good or ill—except in the end to release us. We must seek and accept release, and give release
.
Concerning the marital problems of which you write me, believe me, they are not unusual. But I would prefer to discussthem with you personally, rather than commit my poor thoughts to paper. Until I see you, then
.
I looked down at the dead man, and thought of the other dead man on the mountain. The Reverend Riceyman had given Stanley good advice, which he had failed to take. A feeling of embarrassment and regret went through me. It wasn’t exactly grief for Stanley, though it included that.
It also included the realization that I had to call the police. I left the phone in the study untouched and went back to the kitchen. As soon as I switched on the lights, I noticed the empty brown whisky bottle standing among the dishes in the sink.
I called the Valley headquarters of the LAPD and reported a homicide. During the nine or ten minutes that the police took to answer the call, I walked halfway along the block and found Al’s Volkswagen, locked. At the very last minute, when I could already hear the siren, I remembered that the engine of my car was running. I went out to the garage and turned it off.
I had a light hat in the trunk. I used it to cover my damaged head, and met the patrol car out in front of the house. The man next door came out and looked at us and went back into his house without saying anything.
I took the officers in through the back door, pointing out the jimmy marks. I showed them the dead man and told them briefly how I had
I turned to the filing cabinet. Its top drawer had been forced, so violently that it couldn’t be properly closed. It was full of letters carefully arranged among manila dividers. The postmarks ranged over the past six years.
I picked out a fairly recent one whose return address was the Santa Teresa Travel Agency, 920 Main Street.
Dear Mr. Broadhurst [the typed letter said] :
Have checked our files as per your request and confirm that your father, Mr. Leo Broadhurst, booked double passage on the
Swansea Castle
, due to sail from San Francisco for Honolulu (via Vancouver) on or about July 6, 1955. Passage paid for, but we cannot confirm that it was used.
Swansea Castle
has changed to Liberian registry, and 1955 owners and master are hard to trace. Please advise if you wish us to check further.
Faithfully yours,
Harvey Noble, Proprietor
I looked at an older letter which was handwritten on the stationery of a Santa Teresa church and signed by the pastor, a Reverend Lowell Riceyman.
Dear Stanley
[it said],
Your father Leo Broadhurst was one of my parishioners, in the sense that he sometimes attended Sunday services, as you may recall, but I have to confess that I never knew him at all well. I’m sure the fault must have been mine as much as his. He gave the impression of being a sportsman, an active and spirited man who enjoyed life. No doubt that is your recollection of him, too
.
May I suggest in all good feeling and sympathy that you be content with that recollection, and not pursue any further the course you have embarked on, against my advice. Your father chose to leave your mother and you, for reasons which neither you nor I can fathom. The heart has its reasons that the reason does not know. I think it is unwise for a son to attempt to delve too deeply into his father’s life. What man is without blame?
Think of your own life, Stanley. You have recently taken on the responsibilities of marriage—as I, having had the pleasure of performing the ceremony, have good cause to remember. Your wife is a fine and lovely girl, clearly more worthy of your living interest than those old passions of which you have written to me. The past can do very little for us—no more than it has already done, for good or ill—except in the end to release us. We must seek and accept release, and give release
.
Concerning the marital problems of which you write me, believe me, they are not unusual. But I would prefer to discussthem with you personally, rather than commit my poor thoughts to paper. Until I see you, then
.
I looked down at the dead man, and thought of the other dead man on the mountain. The Reverend Riceyman had given Stanley good advice, which he had failed to take. A feeling of embarrassment and regret went through me. It wasn’t exactly grief for Stanley, though it included that.
It also included the realization that I had to call the police. I left the phone in the study untouched and went back to the kitchen. As soon as I switched on the lights, I noticed the empty brown whisky bottle standing among the dishes in the sink.
I called the Valley headquarters of the LAPD and reported a homicide. During the nine or ten minutes that the police took to answer the call, I walked halfway along the block and found Al’s Volkswagen, locked. At the very last minute, when I could already hear the siren, I remembered that the engine of my car was running. I went out to the garage and turned it off.
I had a light hat in the trunk. I used it to cover my damaged head, and met the patrol car out in front of the house. The man next door came out and looked at us and went back into his house without saying anything.
I took the officers in through the back door, pointing out the jimmy marks. I showed them the dead man and told them briefly how I had
Similar Books
