"I didn't have anyone to contact in case of an emergency so I called you guys," the manager said while walking to the door of the apartment. He had been told that he could enter the apartment, but he wanted to have an independent observer just in case someone wanted to make a big deal out of it.
"We appreciate it," Detective Stafford said.
The manager turned the key while saying, "It was the damnedest thing I've ever seen. He just walked into that fire. Next thing we know, he throws the kid out the second story window. The kid landed in a snow bank without a scratch on him."
"What about Samuel?" Detective Stafford asked while looking at the fire damage at the other end of the building. The fire had melted the snow around the building. The water had frozen in the parking lot turning it into an ice rink.
"He never came out of the building. They found part of his body this morning," the manager answered. Although he hadn't seen it, he heard that it had been pretty gruesome. He swung open the door and said, "Here's his apartment."
"Thanks," Detective Stafford said. He stepped inside the small efficiency apartment and looked around. There was a twin bed pushed up against a wall with a small table next to it. The bed had a simple blanket spread over it and a single pillow. The table had a lamp and an alarm clock.
The manager said, "He didn't have much."
Detective Stafford went over to the kitchen table. There was a small stack of notebooks, a check book, and a shoebox of bills. He walked around the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator he found a quart of milk, a package of lunchmeat, and a jar of mustard. He opened the freezer and saw a stack of TV dinners. Shaking his head, he said, "This is pathetic."
"He doesn't even have a radio or television," the manager said looking around the room.
Detective Stafford went over to the closet and opened the door. There were six uniforms, four shirts, and two pairs of jeans on hangers. The shelf had a dozen pairs of socks and underwear. He said, "He sure didn't spend much on a wardrobe."
"Have you found anything that identifies a next of kin?" the manager asked.
Detective Stafford looked over at the notebooks and said, "I need to check out the notebooks. Maybe one of them is an address book."
Detective Stafford picked up the notebook that was open. One glance let him know that it was some kind of journal. He read the last entry with a frown. He flipped back a few pages and read another entry. An unopened letter fell out. He picked it up and examined the envelope. He said, "That's odd. This was sent to him six months ago and he never opened it."
There wasn't a telephone in the apartment. Using his cell phone, he called the station. It took two minutes to get a name and telephone number corresponding to the address. He requested that a police car be dispatched to the address. He closed the cell phone and then said, "We may have found a relative of his."
"Good," the manager said. He looked around and said, "I'm glad that you're here. No one would believe that someone didn't clean out the apartment."
"You can say that again," Detective Stafford said. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.
"Aren't we going to leave?" the manager asked.
Detective Stafford answered, "I'd rather wait until we hear back from the officer I requested to check out the address."
"Okay," the manager said. He pulled out a chair and took a seat.
Detective Stafford flipped through the notebook looking over some of the entries. He paused to read one of the longer entries. There was another unopened letter in the notebook. Frowning, he put down the notebook and picked up the next one in the stack. There were three unopened letters in it. He opened the notebook and read the first page. He went through the entire stack of notebooks looking at the first page. He put the last notebook on top of the stack and said, "Shit."
"What?"
"I better call the chief," Detective Stafford said ignoring the question.
Chief Calhoun opened the door and looked at the woman standing there. He recognized her from a long time in the past. He said, "Mrs. Reynolds. I'm Chief Calhoun."
"Hello, Officer," Mrs. Reynolds said.
"Please come in."
"Thank you," she replied. She stepped into the apartment and looked around. Frowning, she said, "It is so empty."
"Yes ma'am," Chief Calhoun said.
Her lower lip trembled. She said, "I came over here to see him yesterday. He shut the door in my face."
"I know," Chief Calhoun said.
"How did you know that?"
"It was the last entry in his journal," Chief Calhoun said.
"You read his journal?" she asked.
"Detective Stafford was looking for someone to call. That's how he found an unopened letter from you," Chief Calhoun said.
"Unopened?"
"Yes. There are a number of letters from you and they are all unopened."
The woman appeared to shrink. Covering her eyes with her hands, she said, "Oh God! He never knew."
"Knew what?"
"You better read the letters," Mrs. Reynolds said feeling sick to her stomach.
"You are giving me permission to read them?" Chief Calhoun asked wanting to make sure that he had explicit permission.
"Yes. You should read them in the order that I sent them. It will all make sense that way," Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked around for a chair to sit on. When she didn't find one, she went over to the bed and sat down on it.
Chief Calhoun went over the table and shook the notebooks one by one to get the letters to fall out. He took a minute to organize the letters in the order in which they had been sent. He opened the first envelope and removed the folded letter from it. He read the first few lines and then said, "If I remember correctly, Greg is Samuel's brother."
"Did you know them?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.
"I was the first officer at the scene of the murder," Chief Calhoun answered.
"Just keep reading."
Chief Calhoun read the rest of the letter. He said, "Leukemia. Is Greg okay?"
"Just keep reading."
The next letter described how Samuel's father had died of a heart attack. There was a polite plea for Samuel to get tested to see if he was a suitable bone marrow donor for his brother. He said, "I'm sorry about your husband."
"Thank you."
"You must have been angry that Samuel never answered this letter," Chief Calhoun said. He could imagine her waiting for a response from Samuel. It must have broken her heart to watch one son suffering from a disease while the other son failed to help.
"I was, but you need to read the rest of the letters," Mrs. Reynolds said.
The next letter was a much less polite request for Samuel to get tested. There was even a reference to the murder in the form of demanding that he do the right thing for once in his life. Chief Calhoun asked, "Did Greg contact Samuel about this?"
"Just keep reading," Mrs. Reynolds answered. She stood up and said, "I need to get something to drink to settle my stomach."
"There's not much in his kitchen. You've got your choice of milk or tap water," Chief Calhoun said.
"I'll have to go with tap water," Mrs. Reynolds said.
He picked up the next envelope and opened it. He unfolded the letter and read it. This was a blistering demand that Samuel help save his brother. The language employed did not hide the fact that the family believed that the brother who was a murderer should be forced to save the life of the brother who was a saint. He hoped that he never received such a pointed letter as this one.
Chief Calhoun opened the next letter. He expected it to be a continuation of the previous letter. Instead it started with an apology for the past two letters. His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Reynolds said, "I am making some coffee. Would you like some?"
"That would be nice," Chief Calhoun answered looking up from the letter. It took him a few seconds to find where he had left off reading. After reading the next line he swore, "Jesus H. Christ."
"I take it you just read about the confession," Mrs. Reynolds said. She fumbled with a coffee cup. The sound of the cup breaking filled the silence from the other room.
"Greg killed Samuel's family?" Chief Calhoun asked staring at the letter like it had just turned into a deadly snake. He had been so sure that Samuel had done it.
"Yes," Mrs. Reynolds answered in a soft voice that was nearly drowned out by the gurgles of the coffee maker.
Chief Calhoun poured over the letter looking for an explanation about how the murder had been committed. He was disappointed that the rest of the letter was filled with remorse about how she had treated Samuel. There was a single line at the bottom of the letter saying that Greg had allowed the confession to be recorded in case Samuel wanted to hear it. He read the letter twice making sure that he hadn't missed something.
He ripped open the last envelop. The letter inside contained two lines, "Greg is dead. May he rot in hell for what he's done to our family."
"Milk or sugar?" Mrs. Reynolds asked.
"Both," Chief Calhoun answered staring at the last letter.
He sat there remembering his initial entry into Samuel's house and finding the bodies. As a young officer on the force, this was his first experience with a murder. He had run out of the house and thrown up in the bushes. His partner had interviewed Greg. He remembered Greg saying over and over, "I hope that Samuel didn't do this."
Mrs. Reynolds placed a cup of coffee in front of him. She took a seat across the table and said, "I imagine that you want to know how it happened."
"Yes," Chief Calhoun answered. He took a sip of the coffee and then remembered his manners. He said, "Thank you for the coffee."
She took a deep breath and then said, "I never realized just how much Greg envied his younger brother. Greg was the athletic son and Sammy was the smart one. When they were in high school, Greg was popular but all that changed after he graduated. He ended up in a low paying job. After Sammy graduated high school, he earned twice as much as Greg. He was even smarter with his money.
"Sammy married a beautiful woman. She was pretty in the way that men liked. She could have been a playmate. They had two wonderful kids and everyone just loved them. They lived in a little rental house in a rundown neighborhood, but Sammy was building an amazing house out in the country. He really had a future ahead of him.
"On the other hand, Greg was having problems getting dates. He had a tendency to drink a little too much and that was a big drain on his money. He was renting a smaller place right behind Sammy's house."
"I can see why Greg might have been a little jealous, but I don't see that leading to murder," Chief Calhoun said.
Mrs. Reynolds said, "Greg started chasing after Jennifer whenever Sammy wasn't around. He would flirt with her and try to talk her into bed. She kept pushing him away. The more she pushed, the more aggressive he became. It was really bothering her, but she didn't dare tell anyone about it. She knew that Samuel would kill his brother if he were to ever learn about it. She hinted to me one day that she was worried that one day Sammy was going to learn some dark secret that would make him murderous.
"I misinterpreted what she meant. I assumed that she had done something wrong and that she was terrified Sammy would discover it. I even testified to that in court."
"I remember that," Chief Calhoun said. Her testimony had basically nailed the case shut.
She took a moment to collect her emotions. She said, "On the day of the murder, Sammy went off to work on the house like he did every Saturday. He hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Greg went over to the house. He basically pushed his way in and demanded that Jennifer sleep with him. When he grabbed her breast, she got furious and said that she was going to tell Sammy what he had done.
"Greg said that he went over to Sammy's desk and took out the gun that was kept there. He pointed it at her intending to just threaten her with it. He says that he accidently shot Jennifer in the face. It was only after he had shot her that he realized the two kids had been watching. He killed them so that no one would learn that he had killed Jennifer."
"My God," Chief Calhoun said. "What did he do then?"
"He went back home. He knew that I was supposed to watch the kids while Jennifer went grocery shopping that afternoon. I kept calling Jennifer without getting an answer. I finally called him to ask that he check on her. He had been waiting for that call all afternoon. He went over to the house, pretended to discover the bodies, and then called the police," Mrs. Reynolds said.
Chief Calhoun said, "I was so sure that Samuel had done it."
"We all were. My husband was so angry that he wanted to kill Sammy. I swore that I would never forgive him for killing those beautiful children," she said. A tear rolled down her cheek. She asked, "Do you know what really makes me feel guilty?"
"What?"
"We didn't post bail for him. We refused just so that he couldn't go to the funeral," she said. Her voice broke when she said the final word. Her emotions ran away from her and she broke down crying.
Chief Calhoun looked around for some tissues. Not finding any, he went into the bathroom and removed the roll of toilet paper from the holder. Returning to the kitchen, he tore off some paper and handed it to her.
He could understand how she felt. Samuel's punishment for a crime that he didn't commit started the day the crime had been committed. He had lost his wife, his children, his family, his friends, his freedom, and spent eighteen years in prison. His punishment appeared to have continued after his release from prison.
When Mrs. Reynolds recovered, Chief Calhoun asked, "Why did you come over here yesterday?"
"My daughter-in-law divorced Greg ten years ago and I haven't seen the grandkids since then. I lost my husband eight months ago. I chased away my good son twenty three years ago and watched my evil son die six months ago. I was lonely and couldn't take being alone anymore," she answered. "I hoped that I could earn Sammy's forgiveness."
"I'm sorry that he didn't talk to you," Chief Calhoun said.
Mrs. Reynolds was silent for a minute thinking about what could have been. She asked, "How did Sammy die?"
"I think a better question is -- when did he die?"