The Letter - Epilogue

The next day, early

The happy couple leave their son with a neighbour and walk arm-in-arm along the busy streets then turn uphill to approach the police station. As the man lends the woman the unnecessary but greatly appreciated help up the steep stairway, they slowly realize they are also approaching a heated argument with various voices being raised.

First voice, pissed, "C'mon, Chief! His file wuz under 'K' where it belongs."

Second voice, pissier, "No, I've told you before, the original file must be under the surname of the perpetrator, which in this case would be 'Hamilton, Leon', with duplicates filed under the name of the victim, or in this case victims, which would be both 'Carter, Vince' and 'Hamilton, Ann'. Then you must file ancillary outlines under the headings of the crime itself, in this case, 'Embezzlement', 'Murder'…"

Third voice, placating, "Sir, it's my fault it got misfiled…"

Second voice, sternly, "No, Fidel, Dwayne has to learn that this station runs on ruthless and unchanging rules that ensure the prompt and…"

A new voice, feminine and pissiest yet, "Not to mention that stiff upper lip!"

The Fosters step through the doorway in that moment, causing the four people inside to look up or turn to face them, the argument interrupted but the air full of heated echoes. A suited man steps forward, "Mr. Foster, so nice to see you again, you remember my team?"

Gordon blinks. Inspector Poole looks politely official but his team look anything but; Officer Myers looks insulted, Officer Best looks guilty, and Sergeant Bordey looks pissed. Gordon clears his throat, "Oh, um, yes, hello everyone. Inspector, this is my wife. She wanted to meet you and thank you for your letter. Is there somewhere private we can talk?"

Poole gestures back out the front door, "Yes, of course, let's take a seat out on the veranda. There's always a dependable cross-breeze at this time of day." As he escorts the couple outside, Poole glances pointedly over his shoulder and says to the room, "After all, without dependability how can we have order and maintain a civilized peace?"

As they take their seats outside, Gordon hears a low voice from inside, "I jes knew all this alphabetical stuff would get me inta trouble one day." The other officers chime in with commiserating noises and a silence falls as the letter is produced and the discussion begins.

Five minutes later, the Fosters are descending the stairs and pause at the bottom. Gordon watches his wife glance back up with a wry grin, "I did warn you, he's much deeper than he seems, intelligent, well spoken..."

"But he hardly spoke to me at all, darling. He just pointed to his letter and repeated himself."

Gordon slips an arm around her shoulders, "I know, dear, he's the type of man who has tight control on his emotions. It's part of his training and a bigger part of his nature. Being a police man isn't easy."

She frowns, "Oh, I know it takes a special type but he seems TOO tightly wound. Is that healthy?"

Gordon pauses then smiles as he hears rapid footsteps and the low hiss of a female voice, "Oh, so you write HER letters and not me?" Gordon leads his wife quickly away into the hustle and bustle of the street market where he intends to buy some flowers. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees two figures standing practically nose to nose, hand waving and finger pointing, as a mime argument fulminates most hotly up on the veranda above.

Looking around, he notices that some of the vendors are also watching this with amusement. He hears two elderly women laugh and say in unison to one another, 'L'amore!' He turns back to his wife who is inspecting blooms large and exotic. He reaches in, plucks out a red one, and says, "No, I don't think it's healthy. Fortunately, he's got help in that regard, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

His wife frowns then turns to look back up, watches for a few moments, then turns back with a smile, "Oh, good, I hope she's a match for that stiff upper lip of his."

Gordon pays for the flower, "Oh, trust me, she's just what he needs. He's stubborn… but she's stubborner. I think they're a perfect match. Now, if only someone could make them see it."

"Hmm," his wife muses as they start for home. "She wants a letter, does she? Well, maybe I should be the one to write it. He helped me so I should help him." She looks up, "With your aid, of course."

Gordon thinks about it then nods, "Alright, but only if he never finds out. Men don't grass on other men, you know. It's the law."

"I promise," she laughs. "I'm sure I can convince her that fighting with him isn't the way to win his heart, if indeed that is what she's after."

Gordon sighs, "A woman's heart is a strange place, not for the undeserving."

She reaches up and kisses his cheek, "No, that's why we're so careful who we let in."

END