From Rags to Riches: Til Death Do Us Part

By Randy M. Reece

From Rags to Riches
Til Death do us Part
In a quaint town near lake Erie, the mild mannered Henry Thomas Belt
settled into his role in life. For thirteen years he struggled to live and
send enough money back home to support his family in Stamford
Ontario. Not far away but in 1888 it was if you only had enough to
live on. His work never allowed time enough for a visit. Now with
Christmas upon him, he thought of his father and sister and how much
he missed them. Early one morning he received terrible news. His
boss was found murdered the night before right after he had left work.
Now out of work and a prime suspect in a murder, his life seemed
doomed. To prove his innocence he couldnt go to see them. Stuck
in his tangled web, Henry soon discovers there are miracles along with
tragedies. Thinking he was the luckiest man on earth until he hits head
on with the hand of fate. Read the journal he leaves behind accounting
from the time he loses his job. To being a fugitive in a strange world
of twisted circumstance. Did he ever find his true love? After all!
Can true love keep you alive?


It is dark and eerie in this old abandoned room of the Palmer Boarding House. With some of the wallpaper that is torn off and hanging in strips. Along with old blistered paint, that is peeling away from the wood trim. It looks tired and run down now and I feel a bit sad because of its ill kept state.
This was once my room and I never would have thought Id be forced to stay here against my will. It has only been a few short months since I had to move out. Now I am back and I do not know how long I have to stay hiding in this unpleasant prison.
Earlier today I had to take refuge amongst the scattered debris that was left behind in my apartment. I had heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A constable looked through the opened doorway into the room, as I watched him from the pile of boxes and old news prints. My heart beat frantically, I thought he could see me or would hear me, but he did not. He seemed satisfied that the room contained nothing more than rubbish or the occasional rat or mouse. He closed the door and continued down the hallway to check the rest of the upstairs. The officer would only find the bathroom and the small linen closet.
I watched the door carefully, waiting for it to open again. To my relief, I heard him go downstairs. A little later I was sure the constable had left the building. Still I remained hidden for about two long and arduous hours.
With the greatest of caution, I crawled upon my hands and knees toward the window, on the opposite side of the room. Slowly I ventured to peek out of the window with my nose pressed against the sill. There was no one to be seen on the street below. The lace curtains now tattered and dusty, blew to and fro in the breeze coming through the broken window pane. The curtains will help hide my presence here, I hope.

Feeling the stress upon myself and worried what I was to do, I sat on the floor beneath the window, with my back against the wall. My eyes focussed on the debris in the room. I was trying to sort out the thoughts that were dancing around in my head.
What am I going to do now? Nearly crying out loud. Survival became my ultimate choice and I soon knew what to do. Going from one abandoned apartment to another on the first floor, with the results of a few canned goods, preserves and flour. In order to cook anything without being detected, I would have to use the wood stove in Mrs. Lawrences old apartment downstairs. The brick buildings were constructed so close together that they had to join into one chimney. They would think that the smoke was coming from the other apartment house.
The water at first reeked with reddish brown rust from the old pipes. It was difficult to locate a decent cooking pot without a hole in the bottom. Miss. Palmers apartment yielded the greatest treasur

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465393265

Randy M. Reece

Born Randy M. Recce, July 22, 1947, presently residing in Beamsville Ontario. A seventh generation Canadian, with family that has been in the Niagara Peninsula since the 1780's. Raised in the small community of Beckett’s Bridge, a section of Wainfleet, Ontario. Starting there in a one room country school where my interest in art and story telling began. “I remember opening my grade one reader with excitement to a wonderful world of coloured pictures and words.”

Book preview

Copyright © 2011 by Randy M. Reece.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011960171

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4653-9325-8

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4653-0814-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4653-9326-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

106794

CONTENTS

From Rags To Riches

Store Window Display

The After Years

I dedicate this book to our forefathers and mothers. With perseverance and reverence, men and women pioneered these rugged lands that spanned a new continent. Those who came to tame it so we may live harmoniously. Too give us exemption to choose a religion of selection, freedom of speech, the right to vote for better uniformity in government. Above all, the liberty from persecutions suffered for our choices. We pray modern men will never take away from us all that what they fought for so diligently.

106794-REEC-layout-low.pdf

In a quaint town near lake Erie, the mild mannered Henry Thomas Belt settled into his role in life. For thirteen years he struggled to live and send enough money back home to support his family in Stamford Ontario. Not far away but in 1888 it was if you only had enough to live on. His work never allowed time enough for a visit. Now with Christmas upon him, he thought of his father and sister and how much he missed them. Early one morning he received terrible news. His boss was found murdered the night before right after he had left work.

Now out of work and a prime suspect in a murder, his life seemed doomed. To prove his innocence he couldn’t go to see them. Stuck in his tangled web, Henry soon discovers there are miracles along with tragedies. Thinking he was the luckiest man on earth until he hits head on with the hand of fate. Read the journal he leaves behind accounting from the time he loses his job. To being a fugitive in a strange world of twisted circumstance. Did he ever find his true love? After all!

Can true love keep you alive?

106794-REEC-layout-low.pdf

FROM RAGS TO RICHES

TIL DEATH DO US PART

106794-REEC-layout-low.pdf

It is dark and eerie in this old abandoned room of the ‘Palmer Boarding House.’ With some of the wallpaper that is torn off and hanging in strips. Along with old blistered paint, that is peeling away from the wood trim. It looks tired and run down now and I feel a bit sad because of its ill-kept state.

This was once my room and I never would have thought I’d be forced to stay here against my will. It has only been a few short months since I had to move out. Now I am back and I do not know how long I have to stay hiding in this unpleasant prison.

Earlier today I had to take refuge amongst the scattered debris that was left behind in my apartment. I had heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A constable looked through the opened doorway into the room, as I watched him from the pile of boxes and old news prints. My heart beat frantically, I thought he could see me or would hear me, but he did not. He seemed satisfied that the room contained nothing more than rubbish or the occasional rat or mouse. He closed the door and continued down the hallway to check the rest of the upstairs. The officer would only find the bathroom and the small linen closet.

I watched the door carefully, waiting for it to open again. To my relief, I heard him go downstairs. A little later I was sure the constable had left the building. Still I remained hidden for about two long and arduous hours.

With the greatest of caution, I crawled upon my hands and knees toward the window, on the opposite side of the room. Slowly I ventured to peek out of the window with my nose pressed against the sill. There was no one to be seen on the street below. The lace curtains now tattered and dusty, blew to and fro in the breeze coming through the broken window pane. The curtains will help hide my presence here, I hope.

Feeling the stress upon myself and worried what I was to do, I sat on the floor beneath the window, with my back against the wall. My eyes focussed on the debris in the room. I was trying to sort out the thoughts that were dancing around in my head.

‘What am I going to do now?’ Nearly crying out loud. Survival became my ultimate choice and I soon knew what to do. Going from one abandoned apartment to another on the first floor, with the results of a few canned goods, preserves and flour. In order to cook anything without being detected, I would have to use the wood stove in Mrs. Lawrence’s old apartment downstairs. The brick buildings were constructed so close together that they had to join into one chimney. They would think that the smoke was coming from the other apartment house.

The water at first reeked with reddish-brown rust from the old pipes. It was difficult to locate a decent cooking pot without a hole in the bottom. Miss. Palmer’s apartment yielded the greatest treasures for me. Coffee beans, sugar, tea, ground oats and a supply of paper and ink. The same pen and ink that I am using to write with now. It was in her old desk drawer she often used. How she loved to write her poetry. It appeared that the apartment contained most of its familiar contents her nephew left behind.

I carried my booty upstairs to my room and placed it so as not to appear that someone was staying here. I did not want it to become conspicuous if someone were to come looking for me. I will use the sunlight by day and the street light by night that is just outside the window. I shall attempt to write down everything that I can remember since that cold December night it all began.

My greatest fear is being discovered by the police or the ‘Maniac Murderer.’ Now that I know who it is, my life is in grave danger. My only hope is to find a way to destroy this fiend before it kills again. Since I may be the next victim, I feel that I should write my last will and testament without delay. I do not want to think of my own death. It scares me to feel it may be destined to happen even though another part of me says everything will be alright.

I Henry Thomas Belt, being of sound mind and body do bequeath all of my worldly possessions to my sister, Miss Katherine Jane Belt. With the exception of the summerhouse and parcel of fenced in land thereof. This I leave to Jeffery and Lana Butler, my faithful employees and friends.

In the event that my sister Katherine had died that day at the hands of the ‘Maniac Murderer.’ The above estate shall be and will be handed over to Jeffery and Lana Butler.

I plea for my own sanity. Those who knew me will testify on my behalf.

Signed on this date. The seventeenth day of June. In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred, eighty, eight.

I ask that this last will and testament be handed over to the trust of Detective William Beale.

Henry Thomas Belt

106794-REEC-layout-low.pdf

STORE WINDOW DISPLAY

106794-REEC-layout-low.pdf

I can remember the day it all began quite clearly, a peaceful festive occasion, Monday, December 19th, 1887. The office staff and I put up the Christmas tree and decorated the office with all the trimmings Mr. Bullock supplied. Miss Jordan wore her usual fragrant perfume. Its aroma seemed to magnify the cheerfulness of the day. We put aside our usual format of daily tasks and sipped our wine Mr. Bullock was accustomed to serving at our office Christmas parties.

Merry Christmas Henry! Lifting his glass toward me.

Ah yes, a merry one to you Sir. Returning his kind gesture.

Well lad; another year has come and nearly gone. Mr. Bullock was moving his glass in a fashion that made the wine swirl in a smooth momentum of satisfaction.

Looks like a promising year 1888, doesn’t it?

Yes Sir. I answered.

‘It did look good.’ I thought to myself. With JT. Bullock, anything could happen at anytime.

JT do you think we will expand next year?

Indeed I do and I promise you Henry so will your pay. His reply held a reassuring smile.

Thank you Sir. I said. Thinking that I was making a fair wage as it was. I had always sent a part of my wages back home to Dad and Katie. A raise would make it easier to live with a little more comfort.

Looks like a snow storm building Henry. Maybe we should all go home early and catch up on the paperwork tomorrow? Mr. Bullock had always looked out for the welfare of his employees. JT insisted that he could lock up the office alone.

Don’t worry Henry. I won’t forget to turn off the lights. Go home lad. I can handle everything myself.

Are you sure you won’t need me Sir? I asked.

I maybe old, he said, but I’m not absent minded yet. With a waving motion of his hand, I understood it was time to leave.

I turned toward home and started my long walk. The sky threatened to lash out its full fury, while the wind made its way through my old winter coat. I was bitter cold by the time I reached the rooming house across town. Entering the front door, I walked past Miss. Palmer’s apartment door and went straight upstairs to my small room. Cold and exhausted, I gathered some paper and kindling and lit the Quebec stove. It was fortunate I lived upstairs and the heat from Miss Palmer kept my water pipes from freezing while I was away. I then placed a kettle of water on the top to make myself some welcomed tea. Later I snuggled into my lounge chair near the window. My mind pondered the events that had led me to this place of loneliness and despair. Mind you everything was fine when I was at work, but I was never able to make friends easily.

Christmas was nearing and my longing to see Dad and Katie were strong with feelings of remorse. I had not seen them since leaving home when I was sixteen. Even though I send money to them weekly, I still feel as though I have let them down somehow. Never being able to visit them because I have always kept just enough to pay for my meals and lodging. When I did save enough money to go back home to visit, it would have to be spent on my winter fuel or much needed warm clothing.

Choking back the tears felt coming to the surface, I began to look out of the window to the street below. This was my favourite pastime when I was home. I would watch the people hustle and bustle about, especially this time of the year. There wasn’t anyone to be seen on this cold and windy night.

When I lifted my cup to take a sip of refreshing hot tea, I peered over the brim through the swirling steam. From where I was sitting, I could see a new mannequin in the storefront directly across the street.

This new form in the window display of the ladies clothing store, was not like any I had seen before. Mannequins were usually made of wire mesh and mainly formed the upper part of a woman. This one however had the head and arms with the hands showing. I thought the legs were there but it was hard to tell with the dress that reached to the floor.

Dumbfounded I gazed at her tall slim figure like an infatuated school boy. Something about the face seemed familiar. It appealed to my inner male ego. So stirred at the likeness of a real woman I reached for my coat and scarf. Bundling up for warmth, then went downstairs and strolled across the street. I wanted to get a better look at what was the most magnificent replica of the woman of my dreams. I stood outside next to the window, the evening coldness unnoticed while I stared entranced. This was not a passionate endeavour for me. It would be fitting to say she was the woman that suited my inner most desires of a female companion. A lady to be proud of being seen with.

Drifting into a dream like vision, I could see her and I waltzing together, embraced upon the royalist of ballroom floors. Enchanted by the greatest orchestra in the world being enraptured by the grace of it all. Suddenly I was brought back to reality while still staring at the mannequin.

Beautiful isn’t she? His old English accent was undeniable.

Pardon. I gasped, startled by the dark figure standing beside me.

Beautiful creature; too bad my wife is not built that well. I would stay home more often. He said chuckling with a wheeze coming from his chest.

Oh. I muttered as I turned, more than sure of who was speaking to me.

Mr. Tamms, good evening Sir. Hoping I didn’t have to explain my absence of mind to him.

I thought your wife to be a fine figure of a woman. Immediately and too late to retract, I realized I had said the wrong thing.

Henry if I did not know you better, I would think you have been eyeing my wife. His glare frightened me.

As I gulped down a lump of crisp December air, I said. I assure you I haven’t. I was relieved as he began one of his familiar laughs, deep within the pit of his stout belly.

I know Belt, as he roared with laughter, I was just kidding with you. He regained his composure with a heavy grovelling, humph, from his throat.

To tell you the truth my boy, I have been standing here beside you for quite sometime you know? Mr. Tamms who owned the grocery store was a rather stout good fellow. With his rounded face and belly and a heart of gold that would warm your soul. Always ready to tease or tell you a joke.

Belt; you are drifting again my boy. He snorted with a wheeze. I was falling into another deep trance while looking into the store window.

Sorry Mr. Tamms, but I can’t help but be in awe of this mannequin. Feeling I had to explain myself added to his fuel.

Henry, by chance would you be falling in love with this thing? He was toying with my infatuations.

No Sir, defending my sanity, it’s just that I have had a vision of the woman of my dreams. Someone to share my life with. This mannequin, her face, her figure, everything about her, it’s ironic, but she looks like her. I was amazed at myself for saying this, but it was true.

Henry my boy? I believe this happens to most men? The perfect woman comes along and everything is going well. Then you find out that she’s only a dummy, haa, ha, ha. His plump belly twitched up and down under his winter coat. At this point I could not see any further use in a conversation with him. Frankly I became angry at his remark of being in love with a mannequin.

I laughed a bit to humour him, then bid Mr. Tamms a pleasant good evening as I turned toward the apartment house. As we parted company, he assured me that he didn’t think me a fool for my endeavours. Wishing me the best in finding such a lady for she sounds magnificent.

Now feeling a bit chilly, I went back to my room. After checking the stove, I stoked the hot embers with more wood and prepared myself a warm meal and another cup of tea. It was nice to sit again in my comfortable chair near the window. This time I had something else to think about. This mannequin seemed to have a magnetic attraction to it. I observed this while I finished my second cup of tea. Still, studious of her captivating form viewed from my window. It was getting late and I had to be at work bright and early. Banking the stove with hard coal to last the night, I then went to bed.

After spending many restless hours without sleep, I got out of bed and went over to the window to have another look at her. Tired and drowsy, my eyes were not fully focussed yet. I peered through the frosted glass of the window. She was gone!

The mannequin was not in the display window. A feeling of panic went through my body like a cold chill. It was foolish of me to think that she was gone forever. After all she was only a store dummy. It came to mind that someone must be changing her outfit, and that the mannequin would be back in its place in the morning.

‘How beautiful she will look,’ I thought, ‘anything would look good on her.’ Then I realized I was beginning to think of her as a real person and this did trouble me a little. I rationalized that it was because I was tired. Or was Mr. Tamms right? Was I falling in love with a display mannequin?

This is nonsense; I have got to get some sleep! I scolded myself.

When I looked at the time, it was just past one a.m., and the last thing I remembered thinking before I drifted off to sleep was. ‘She’ll be there in the morning.’

The morning came too soon on Tuesday, December 20th. It seemed I had just fallen to sleep when I was wakened by my landlady, pounding on my door frantically with her fist.

Wake up Mr. Belt! Wake up! She cried out mournfully.

Please hurry Mr. Belt. She wined in a pitiful moan.

I’m coming Miss Palmer; I’m coming. I answered.

I opened the door and there standing before me was Elaine Palmer. Her thin frail hands reddened at the knuckles from constant wrenching in her turmoil. Somewhat like a child waiting for the spanking needed for a wrong doing. Her face showed her age and now it was ghostly white with horror. Her lips were bluish in colour as they quivered. She tried to stop them from doing so as she bit down on her lower lip. Elaine looked like death itself.

Terrible news Henry; most dreadful news.

What is it? I was almost afraid to ask, yet very concerned. I knew it had to be of a serious nature. Elaine wasn’t the type to fuss much. The only time I could ever remember her showing any emotion like this was when her brother-in-law ran out on her sister and three boys.

Henry, I don’t know how to tell you this. She whimpered in another burst of tears while shaking uncontrollably.

Mr. Bullock, she managed to blurt out between tears, was; was murdered last night! Numbness ran through my body in cold chilling waves. My eyes burned while tears ran down my cheeks uncontrolled, as I stood stunned by her words.

I, I can’t be-lieve this. I, I. The words failed to come out of my dried parched mouth.

I’m sorry I have to bring this bad news, she continued, the police were here early this morning. They told me Miss. Jordan informed them where we lived. I explained to the officers it would be better if I were to tell you. She buried her tear filled eyes into her handkerchief.

In a state of shock, I felt faint and barely made it to the chair. I slumped down on the seat of my lounge and held my head between my hands. A million things raced through my mind. As the numbness subsided, I could hear Miss Palmer sobbing while still standing at the door. Managing to get up, I went over to the doorway and asked her to come in. I knew she needed comforting herself. In my own misery I had forgotten that she and Mr. Bullock were dear friends. I had heard they were sweethearts many years ago.

Miss. Palmer, please come in, forgive my absent-minded state, I feel just terrible leaving you to stand like that. I’ll fix us some tea. Elaine never spoke, just smiled. I added some wood to the coal embers in the stove, then made some fresh tea for the both of us. We were silent in our grief as we waited for it to steep.

Here is your cup of tea Miss. Palmer, I said quietly, Elaine, your tea. Placing the cup beside her. She didn’t move for awhile. Then she finally looked up with tears in her eyes.

We were such good friends; Mr. Bullock and I. I, I loved him dearly. She realized what she said and it looked like she wanted to retract her words.

I’m sorry Henry, but it only seems like yesterday; yet it was so long ago, she paused briefly, I don’t mind telling you we were very close at one time. Everybody knew even though it was supposed to be a great secret you know? Elaine began to weep again.

I didn’t think she would say anything about their romance, but like she said it was the town’s secret. I had always figured her parents wouldn’t let them get married. Truth is I didn’t know. Now realizing the quietness of the room, I tried to think of something to say to Elaine. It has always been hard for me to express myself without fear of saying something wrong. It would be like telling a sick friend that he or she looks well, or to a relative of the deceased to have a nice day.

I, I-. Elaine interrupted me, thank goodness.

Henry, I know that you loved Mr. Bullock, and he had such love and admiration for you also. He always told me that you were like a son. Her speech still forlorn.

How he longed to be by his own son. She buried her face into her handkerchief. I didn’t know he had a son. She wept bitterly. As she cried, I sat quietly just staring at a little black hole in the wood floor. My future looked as bleak as the core of that tiny hole. ‘Poor Mr. Bullock,’ I sighed grievously to myself.

What will you do now, where will you work? You have been with James for so long. Elaine spoke softly while wiping her tears away. She paused to sip some tea.

‘So that’s what the J. stood for.’ I thought to myself. All these years I knew him only as JT. Bullock.

Yes I have been with him a long time. The realization of being out of work had not hit me until then. It was mournful enough to know I would never see JT again. This added to the fear of what was in my future. Like a bee sting, it drove hard and deep with pain. After thinking a bit I realized I still had hope.

I’ll be fine. I sighed. I had worked for JT for thirteen years.

Don’t worry Elaine I have had offers in the past with other firms. I’m sure one will still be open for me. I felt I didn’t need to bother her with my problems. After all I had work for JT a long time and had a good and reputable employment record with him.

I know you’ll do alright Henry. You were good at your accountings. James told me of your excellent work many times. She said this while patting the back of my hand. Then in a kind gesture she slipped her thin frail fingers around the edge of my hand.

You will be sending gifts for your family for Christmas as usual. This will make it hard for you to send the money back home. She smiled knowingly.

How did you know? I have never told anyone about that.

You didn’t have to Henry, I even know how much your earnings were each week. Besides, you couldn’t hide the letters for what they were worth. Martha down at the postoffice told me how much you sent home each week to your folks. Elaine was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

My life is an open book! I exclaimed.

You never did spend much on yourself and it shows Henry. Your unselfishness will reward you someday. Elaine said then got up off her chair and went toward the door, then stopped, turned and faced me.

I hope I don’t offend you Henry; but I want you to accept my gift. She reached into the pocket of her sweater and handed to me what turned out to be a month’s rent back. Her eyes studied me.

Please take it Henry. I could see by the look she had on her face, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

You should be able to manage a little better until you get a pay. If things get bad for you let me know. I can trust you to pay me back later. Elaine said with a warm sincere smile. I was glad to see her smile. It made me feel better.

I don’t know what to say other than thanks Miss. Palmer. But I don’t think I’ll miss next months rent payment. Whom was I kidding? With Christmas and the holidays soon to begin, where would I find a job?

I should be leaving now Henry, I have things to take care of. She turned and headed toward the door. Again I was lost for words. How could I say to her, ‘have a nice day,’ after she had to bring me the bad news of Mr. Bullocks tragic death. Elaine simply left my room and went downstairs to her own apartment.

It was nearly noon, so I prepared my dinner; although the emptiness wasn’t hunger. After I had eaten, I sat on my lounge looking out of the window. The mannequin was there as I presumed she would be. While staring outside I questioned my mind as to who would do such a thing. Who would want to kill Mr. Bullock and why him?

He was not only my employer, but a dear friend. He was a rather good looking gentleman in his late sixties. Slightly bald on top with a few thin white hairs showing at the sides. A gentleman in every way. Pleasant to all and as honest a man anyone would want to be. That was the reason why I wasn’t swayed to work for anyone else. I had turned down many offers for new employment. I knew I would never be sorry working for such a fine man as JT. Bullock. In the thirteen years I had worked for JT, I had built myself a reputation as a good accountant. Moreover, with the help of JT bragging all the time about me to anyone that would listen. I can still hear him say.

Never have to check my books. Always in top order you know? Balanced to the penny at every audit. I have a fine lad; a very fine lad indeed. I often wondered why he called me a lad at my age. Now I know it was because he considered me like a son. I’ll miss JT dearly, for he held a special place in my heart and I cried bitterly.

Who would do this to him? I just cannot sit here. I have to find out more about what has happened. I told myself.

Bundling up warm, I readied myself for the long cold walk to police headquarters. The office was on the way there so I curiously ventured in. Once inside of the building I could see nothing was touched since the day before. Not even one of the decorations was stirred, all hung untouched. I soon began to talk to myself out loud without realizing I was.

I don’t understand. He didn’t have any enemies. I proclaimed. I was rubbing the cold from my throbbing hands, when a voice startled me.

He must have? He’s dead! The gruff voice said from the other side of the half-closed door of the inner office. It was Detective Beale. I had dealings with him about a year before concerning a robbery at the office. He wasted little time on anyone and was always straight to the point.

He’s dead and someone murdered him Belt! He snorted as I entered the room and was facing him.

Maybe it was robbers? I said, hoping to pry some of his observations from his investigation.

I thought of that! He snapped, irritated by my demeaning quest. He shouldn’t take things so personally.

He continued, all of his possessions were on him, gold watch and chain, a money belt with a considerable amount of money in it. Very tempting to any thief. He said with the look on his face that said, ‘so there!’

So it wasn’t thieves, nothing was taken from him? ‘Except his life.’ I said to myself.

No, it wasn’t thieves. He repeated as he continued his search for clues. I took a quick look around the inner office. Everything was in fair order. It appeared that nothing was taken and then I opened the door to JT’s office.

Don’t go in there. We are still investigating. He paused briefly then asked.

What are you looking for? His question demanded an answer.

Nothing in particular Detective Beale. Just seeing if anything is missing, that’s all.

Humph; I was beginning to think it was you. Is there something in there you wanted to hide, eh? He asked with an accusing look in his beady brown eyes.

Huh; who me? Shocked at his accusation.

You are a prime suspect as far as headquarters are concerned. They think maybe you had an argument with him over your job. Maybe looking for a raise? Could this be true Belt? You were the last one to leave last night.

No! I have never had an argument or quarrelled with Mr. Bullock about anything, ever, I assure you; ask anyone.

I will, for your sake I hope I don’t find anything on you. I’d hate to be you. Just remember Belt, I’ll be watching you close, so don’t try anything. Indignant by the fact that I was a suspect, I defended my innocence in the best way I could think of.

I came here to find out what happened to Mr. Bullock out of concern. I wanted to know why he was murdered. Now your telling me that I’m a suspect. Well you’re wrong. If you thought I was a suspect, you would have come to my door and not let poor Miss. Palmer have to tell me. I tried to hold back my rage, but it was a matter of integrity now.

I demand to know what has happened to Mr. Bullock and why! If you can’t do your job then get someone who can! I snapped. I was shocked at my own actions. This really wasn’t like me. I knew he wouldn’t answer my question for sure, but I stood silently waiting for one anyway. Only to find out he was holding on to my being a suspect, and with his usual insatiable manner he told me.

You won’t get details from me so you can cover them up Belt. Your involvement in this case means that you are not to leave town. I’ll know where you are, so if I need you I will call. He looked straight into my eyes.

Until I give you further notice, stay close to home! He turned to continue his investigation, starting with my desk drawers. I was sure it was deliberate and that he had already gone through them. It was his way of making his point very clear.

Look Detective Beale, I came… He interrupted me.

You call me at headquarters if you hear anything Belt. Now I’m busy, good-day! His voice was sharp and his message clear. At his invitation I left the building and headed straight for home. I had never been so angry in my life as I was then. I determined right then and there I wasn’t just wanting to know who murdered JT or why he was murdered. I wanted more.

I’ll get my revenge for this! I screamed into winter’s cold deaf ears.

Detective Beale will eat his words someday; I’ll see to that! I muttered while tramping homeward through cold, wet snow.

Feeling it was the best place to be since Detective Beale told me to stay close to home. I spent the hardest days of my life in this cramped little apartment room. During this time I tried to sort out what happened and why anyone would kill JT. Bullock. It was difficult for me to picture him doing anything wrong to anyone.

Thinking about it over and over, I came up with the same conclusions. His murder had to have been a blunder. Could he have been mistaken for someone else, or did he stumble onto a burglar and was murdered? The robber would have then fled the scene before he was able to steal anything. What other choice would this assailant have being caught by surprise?

My thoughts about the homicide would have driven me crazy if it wasn’t for Marie. That had seemed the most appropriate name for her as any. For a mannequin that is. At the time I was feeling a bit guilty about JT’s death. After all I did leave him alone to lock up that evening. Conversing with Marie seemed to ease the pains of loneliness and frustration. Often I looked out of my window to say whatever came to mind.

Marie I let him down when he needed me the most. To my dismay, she stared straight ahead, I would have never expected anything more or less of her. She was better to talk to than no one and far better looking than the walls. There were times it seemed as though she would walk right out of the display window and come to me.

Come to me. I would almost say to her, everytime this happened. Then a feeling of panic would rise inside of me.

Am I going insane? I asked myself many times.

No, no, I’m not. I would reason. I knew it was because of my emotional state I thought like that. After all I was under a lot of stress. At least most of my conversations with Marie did help me.

On the second evening I was trying to decide what I should do. Go to bed and get the sleep I needed, or wrap and post the parcels for Dad and Katie. It was already too late to get it to Stamford in time for Christmas day.

This year it was hard to find the right gift for Dad. An English briar pipe was the answer. Then I remembered Katie said Dad had quit smoking his pipe for health reasons. She suggested a wallet and if I had enough some socks. I added some underwear that she wouldn’t dare mention. A gift for Katie was always easy enough for me to purchase. Anything that was pretty and feminine, a pink ribbon for her hair, a pearl comb to put it up with. This year I got her a comb and brush set with the mirror. It is a pale pink set with gold trim and fake pearls. She would write to tell me it was just what she needed and wanted. Dad would write and recount how much she wore or used her gift or showed it off to her friends. It is a pleasant thought knowing I made Katie happy from such a distance. My train of thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

Who is it? I asked.

This is Inspector Goss, open the door! He raised his voice so I could hear him clearly through the solid wood door. I had never heard of Inspector Goss before and I was apprehensive about opening the door for him. It could have been the murderer for all I knew. But at that time there wasn’t any indication that I was in danger myself. My thought next was, ‘he was here to arrest me because of what Detective Beale had said?’

Mr. Belt! His voice impatient and convincing.

Open this door before I have to break it down! His threat was well put.

I’m coming; I’m coming! I said quickly. I crossed the room to the door in a hurry.

‘Might as well? He’d get in by the sounds of him,’ I thought to myself as I reached for the door handle. When I finally opened the door, I stood for awhile with my mouth hung gaping. There before me was the biggest man I had ever seen in my life. He had to be all of six foot six inches and well over three hundred pounds. He was standing in the doorway to my room like a big shadow. This gigantic man made you feel small and insignificant. His manners were that of a forceful baboon.

Where were you all night Mr. Belt? He demanded to know. He studied me as if measuring up for something I would be capable of doing. Already I felt guilty and I didn’t know what it was all about.

I; I haven’t left my room since, it seemed forever to get the words out, I was told to stay home. As soon as I said this Detective Beale barged into the room. He looked very angry and I knew enough to stay out of his way. Beale spoke.

I looked again Inspector. There’s no way anyone could have slipped by me. He couldn’t have gotten off the premises without being seen. Beale rubbed at his stubbled chin. I didn’t feel comfortable about this whole situation. I didn’t know what was going on. Then Beale walked over to the closet and opened the door, looked inside, closed it, then gave an unsatisfied grunt.

Only one window? Goss asked suspiciously. I nodded my head yes.

Where is the bathroom? Goss asked. He sounded a bit aggravated he had to ask.

At the end of the hall. I answered. I pointed in the right direction. While Detective Beale left the room to search the bathroom, Inspector Goss started to badger me.

Tell me Belt; how did you manage to get by Detective Beale’s men this evening? He was trying to pin something on me. I wasn’t about to let him scare me into anything, even though I was petrified.

I told you, I haven’t left my room for two days, Beale walked back in, except to go to the washroom. I added.

Belt, there has been another murder, what can you tell us about it? Before I could answer Goss, Beale snapped out his question.

You do it? He was always straight to the point.

Murder? I didn’t kill anyone! Why ask me?

Anyone can say they didn’t do it. Proving you didn’t, is another thing. This happened just around the corner from here. Almost right behind this very building. Beale snarled.

What gets me is that it happened right under my nose. Beale wasn’t happy about that fact at all.

That doesn’t make me guilty, I could be in the same building and it doesn’t make me the one who is guilty. So why blame me?

Goss snapped words right back. Because you are the closest to both of the victims. You’d be a fool to try and get away with these murders. I was sure he reached under his coat into his back pocket for his handcuffs. He then wiped his brow with a handkerchief and returned it to his back pocket.

I don’t know anything about any murder, I said, who is it I’m supposed to have killed? I realize how cold and callous that sounded. Beale looked at me as if I were crazy.

I mean if I am accused I should know, shouldn’t I? Did I know this person is what I’m asking? I stated in a clumsy manner.

The less you know Belt, the better it is for the both of us. That is if you are telling the truth. Beale stated with skepticism.

I am. My plea sounding feeble.

Like I said before, don’t leave town! Stay close to home and out of my hair. I’ll be watching you; real close. Again Beale stared straight into my eyes. His brown eyes were cold and carried the threat,