The Mourning Mail (FINAL)

Chapter 4

After taking a break to grab a quick bite and start the dishwasher, I returned to Bubba's letters.

I found it a little odd that Bubba never mentioned his mother. I guessed that "Sis" was an older sibling and possibly a parental substitute. Whatever his approach to other aspects of his life, he seemed open and honest with her, even verbose. Perhaps writing in invisible ink helped with that, maybe even gave him a sense of freedom. His signature, "Bubba," could have been his real name, but somehow, I doubted it. It was more likely that it meant simply "brother," as Southerners often use it. Or it could be a nickname.

The last letter Dad collected gave me pause, just as it had him:

"Sis—do you remember that naberhood you worked in back when you were doing the In Home care services? The last one before I left, that old man? Now, that guy had some $$$! I went there to check out the house three door's down from him on the corner lot. Its pretty nice and has a hidden ally in the back. I think for the garbaje trucks, so people won't see the trash bins on the street. The place looked good to me. Lots of ways to get in and out of there, probably some great stuff inside."

If I could find the gravesite where Bubba was dropping off these letters, I could get the sister's name from the headstone. This letter told me his sister was a registered nurse and worked for a temp agency. I needed to cold-call the agencies in the area to run down the last one she worked for. From them, I could get the address of her final client. I should be able to locate the house Bubba described. I'd need to do some legwork at the memorial gardens to figure out Sis' name. Some time spent on the phone should get me the rest of the information I wanted. The letter continued:

"I woudn't have done it if you were still here—I'd never let anything come back on you or Mikey. You know that right? But one night I went to do the job. I'm figuring out what to take and I check out one of the side bedrooms upstairs. It had a sweet computer set up. I was getting ready to grab some of it when I saw this light flashing on the walls. Shit, somebody else was robbing the place. At least, thats what I thought.

"They were amachers. You can't just wave a regular flashlight all over the place. It makes wierd light patterns fokes can see from outside—maybe realize what's happening. Remember Ted the doochebag who used to date your friend Ellie? Thats how they busted him—a nose-y old lady down the street saw the lights and called 5-0.

"If these idiots caught me in the house, that was one thing. More of them then me, so that was a problem. Otherwise what woud they do, call the cops on me and get themselves busted? But what freaked me out the most was these rookie assholes would send us all to jail because they didn't know what they were doing. I'd have to go back in to finish my parole time and do another nickel for this B&E. I wouldn't have anyway to get my letters to you.

"I was stuck in the far bedroom on the 2nd floor. They was right in the midle of my escape route. I just stayed in the closet to ride it out. Nothing better I could do then sit there lissening.

"There was 3 of them, 2 men and a lady. They wasnt from our naberhood; I didn't know anyones voice. They was trying to keep quite but not doing a great job. The lady kept getting upset and raising her voice. 1 guy was getting angry at the other 2.

"I thought it might be some insurence scam because the older guy kept talking about everything like it was his stuff. He knew where everything was in the house. I heard him call one guy Rickie. That was the 1 he sent to get the duck tape out of the kitchen closet.

"Then I figured out they was trying to move something wrapped up in a oval rug. I'm pretty sure it was a dead body. They all kept referring to it as Her and they was worried about leaving a trail."

Bubba's chosen profession had significant downsides. But I doubted that anyone could have foreseen that situation: two sets of criminals sneaking around the same house in the dark of night. It didn't seem like it would turn out well. But of course, Bubba survived whatever happened long enough to write and deliver this letter. Fascinated, I continued reading:

"I could see the room I was in had a window. Maybe I could raise the bottom part and not make any sound— climb through the opening onto the little stub roof then jump down and run for it. The same way we used to sneak out as kids. If I made a big enough racket getting away it woud draw atention to the house. Those fokes would be too busy covering their tracks to worry about chasing me.

"But what if they had guns? So I stayed put.

"Now they were in the bedroom across from the 1 I was in. From what they said and what I heard somebody already done rolled a body into the rug. It was sealed up with the tape. The 3 of them was trying to push and pull it out of that room. Once they got it out they slid the whole thing down the stares. After-words, the woman vacumed the other bedroom hall and steps. I guess they wanted to leave the same pattern on the carpet as the maid left. That way no one could tell they done nothing.

"Once I knew they was all on the 1st floor, I looked out the window. I watched em carry the roll out the house thru the back door going to the ally. I could see the corner of a dark van. I saw them yanking and shoveing the roll in to the back of it. 1 guy returned, and I herd him lock the rear door of the place. He went back to the van, and the 2 guys took off. The lady walked out to the sidewalk by the street, and I coudn't see her anymore.

"Once they was gone, I went into that master bedroom to see what they did. I couldn't tell. But I saw diplomus and placks on the wall, so I knew the house belonged to some docter. I figgured screw him for making me wait. I took everything I could carry from the place. I was pretty sure they woudn't report the theft. They woudn't want the police looking into nothing that went on that nite.

"But if they killed somebody I didn't want them trying to pin it on me. They could say See Somebody broke in and They must have killed that lady. You know how this goes Sis. Nobody's going to beleive me over a rich docter and his freinds.

"So before I left I took a scale and one of the throw rugs out the upstairs bathroom. Used them to replace the drag marks from the master bedroom down the stares to the living room. I scouted out the utility room off the kitchen to see if there was any power tools I coud take. There was some paint in airosol cans. I sprayed Doc killed a Woman and Hid her Body on the Wall and the carpet in the Livingroom. I went to my car and grabbed my cellphone. I snuck back in and took some picktures. That way I could show I tried to set things right if they pointed fingers at me."

"Christ, Bubba, why were you screwing around?" I asked out loud. "It's not a video game—you should have just gotten out of there and called the police." As if to answer my question, the letter continued:

"I wanted to call 911 to report a prowler, but I already cut the phone wire when I broke in. I didnt have a burnerphone in my car. The only phone I had was the one in my name. So I just blew it off. Maybe Doc wouldn't be the 1st person to come back to the house. Or the painter or carpet guy he hired to cover up my messiges could report them. Even if the docter found my grafiti and got rid of it, at least he would know somebody else witnessed what he did. Maybe hed turn himself in. Or he might get nervous and make a mistake that woud get him caught without my help."

The thought again crossed my mind that perhaps Bubba hadn't fully matured into adulthood. I didn't know him, of course. Still, it disappointed me; his response to a likely homicide relied on hoping things might work out without his getting involved.

Just one step above the lowly "thoughts and prayers."