The Mourning Mail (final release candidate #7)

Chapter 8

PRESENT DAY

The financial safety net Dad provided me in his will was a godsend. It would allow me to meet my monthly obligations. At the same time, I'd be free to pursue my goals and go wherever my talents would take me, insulated from purely mercenary employers. It was a gift that recognized my flaws while empowering my dreams.

These in-the-wind letters and their return to their rightful owner had become paramount to Dad. So much so that he made me aware of those envelopes and requested my help as the last acts of his life. That request may have been his best gift of all. His ask allowed me the dignity and the pride of feeling that I was repaying him in a small way for his generosity. The task, even including the possibility of a homicide, was something I could do easily enough, work that I was trained for. And the chance to grant his last wish gave me all the motivation I would ever need.

But to be brutally honest, the timing also worked for me. I was looking for unique stories to tell, pieces that would set me apart from other freelance reporters.

Still, before I could tackle those letters, I had more urgent business to attend to – the murder of Coach Cantor.

I called Cassidy Plame née Cantor to express my condolences and to ask her permission to look into what had happened to her father. We'd remained friends over the years, though since she'd moved to San Francisco we didn't see much of each other. Still, we talked from time to time and she'd followed my career. She welcomed my help. While she had confidence in the police that they'd do what they could, she knew they were working without a lot of clues.

It was 7:00 p.m. by the time I got to Coach's house. Coach and Celia bought this house long after I'd grown up, and I hadn't been here often. The yellow-bulbed porch light cast a warm, inviting glow over the entrance. I rang the lighted doorbell, disappointed that it didn't have video – likely a reflection of Coach's frugality.

As I waited for Cassidy to answer, I scanned the front of the home. It was a large, older frame house in the Craftsman style, painted a cream color, with a river stone façade halfway up the exterior walls. Completing the front of the house was a wrap-around porch in dark green enamel flooring with an oak swing that faced the street. I could see the home's residents and visitors used the swing often; the finish was wearing away from the seat's arms, as well as the front and back slats. Frequent sitters had squashed the sun-faded cushions nearly flat.

"Hi, Cassidy, it is good to see you again. I'm so sorry it is under these circumstances," I said as she opened the front door and we hugged. Where Coach had been tall and slender, Cassidy took after her mother, her physique shorter, rounder and softer. I knew from past conversations she'd struggled to lose the baby weight after Shannon was born, and had given up the fight. Her eyes were rimmed in red from crying, and she held a crumpled tissue in her right hand.

"You're looking well, Debra Ann. Thank you for coming over," Cassidy said. "Father was always proud of the girls he coached and taught. I know he was pleased with how well you've done for yourself. He's said as much. He would have been grateful that you'd want to help."

"I was just devastated when I heard the news," I said. "I still can't believe it. Lindsay Barnes told me when she was doing my hair. Such an incredible shame, and I can't for the life of me understand why anyone one would do this, especially to him of all people."

"Lindsay called me after it happened," Cassidy said, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue. "She was nearly as upset as I was. No one has any idea what could have led to this. The police were all over the place looking for any kind of evidence.

"They say it looks like Father let the murderer in. Maybe he knew them. They walked over by the Lazy Boy and the couch, and Father was shot twice without either of them sitting down. The killer must have worn gloves, and there's nothing that says they went anywhere else in the house."