The Dead Letter by Finley Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

name.”
    â€œThe Malones may be an economical gang, for all that, but they’ve managed to provide me with half the entire Morse code in my good name.”
    â€œActually,” interrupted Gwen, “‘Dit’ isn’t his real name.”
    Anne looked blank. So did Sam and Sarah and Mary Anne.
    â€œI knew that,” said Dashiell with a smirk.
    â€œIt’s ‘Diarmuid,’” she said, pronouncing it again more slowly, “DEEar-mut.”
    â€œThat’s even more pathetic than Wil-hel-MEE-na,” said Anne. “My condolences. And how did Diarmuid become Dit?” she asked.
    An embarrassed grin swept across his face.
    â€œI couldn’t pronounce ‘Diarmuid’ when I was young. “‘Dit’ came out, and ‘Dit’ stuck.”
    â€œAnd Gwen,” asked Sarah, “how did you uncover this delightful family secret?”
    â€œIt was on his wrist bracelet in the hospital. I was one of his caregivers on the spinal trauma ward.”
    â€œSo you’re a nurse?”
    â€œI’m a nurse practitioner.” Gwen noticed some blank looks again and added, “It’s two steps above an RN and a giant step below doctor.”
    â€œImpressive. And how long are you visiting?”
    Gwen looked questioningly at Dit. He nodded back in return. Then he pulled himself up on his crutches, stood, and smiled.
    â€œThe short answer is…forever. Gwen and I are getting married.”

13.
    This shouldn’t take long, thought Anne, hunched over the desk in her office. She was determined to the set the record straight and set her own mind at ease by locating Carolyn Jollimore.
    And maybe Ben was right. Even though the letter pre-dated Ben’s time here, he was certain that Charlottetown had no unsolved murder cases, nor did any of the other jurisdictions on PEI. Maybe the Jollimore woman is just some local screwball. An inveterate gossip with an imagination that runs amok. No point jumping to embarrassing conclusions, though. A quick interview with Carolyn would reveal a lot, give her the opportunity to explain her letter, and give Anne the opportunity to explain why no one from Darby Investigations had come to help her if there had been no follow-up after the lost letter.
    Anne picked up the receiver and dialled the number Carolyn Jollimore had included in her letter, but a recorded message said the number was no longer in service. So she flipped through the phone directories for a Carolyn Jollimore listing. No luck. Carolyn Jollimore was listed nowhere.
    Okay, then, I guess it’ll have to be the hard way.
    Anne picked up the phone again and methodically called every Jollimore listed. After an hour of dialling, none of those who answered admitted knowing a Carolyn Jollimore. As a last resort, she turned to the computer and opened an online directory for Halifax. A couple of keystrokes brought her a list of Jollimores, a hundred or more.
    This is going to take forever , she thought. Then her mind wandered to Dit and Gwen.
    Why is he talking marriage? It’s so soon. He scarcely knows her. What’s the matter with him, she wondered. That’s not like Dit. He’s practical and down-to-earth and smart…and she’s…she’s just not right.
    She pushed both of them out of her mind, stared at the enormous list of Jollimores as if she suddenly had been confronted by a flash mob of evangelists. Then she dove into it.
    Three hours later, she had talked her way from Aaron Jollimore, a musicologist, to Zephyr Jollymore, a Barrington Street stripper. She had made telephone contact with dozens of others and left phone messages for the rest, but, in the end, her efforts seemed futile.
    A pang of hunger reminded her that it was past one o’clock. She grabbed a file folder on her desk and headed downstairs to The Blue Peter.
    â€œClub sandwich, dill pickle, water no ice,” she told the waitress and sank back into the soft