Eleanor had spent forever in the line at the bank trying to deposit a few small checks from some of the freelance pieces she had done recently. A few quick calculations in her head told her that the measly total from all three checks would only cover their mortgage on the condo for the month and their condo fees—it wouldn’t cover anything beyond that. Which meant that as soon as she got home from running all over town; Eleanor needed to find more writing jobs to cover the rest of the bills for the month.
After the bank, Eleanor drove to the grocery store near their condo. She grabbed a cart and filled it with groceries. But when she went through the check out; her total after using every coupon in her wallet equaled more than what her credit card would allow. The balance already on the card would only allow her so much to spend before she went over her limit. This meant the embarrassing task of having to return items. The bored looking cashier popped her bubblegum loudly and began taking items out of bags.
Eleanor could hardly think of a time where she felt more humiliated. After her credit card was finally accepted, Eleanor took her bags and put them back into the car.
Eleanor parked her car in the underground parking after her errands were complete. She took the paper grocery bags from the trunk of her car and hoisted one into each arm. The only positive to buying only what she could afford was that she had only bought the necessities, and therefore only needed to make one trip from her car to their condo.
Eleanor locked her car and made her way to the elevator. She pressed the button for the fifth floor and leaned tiredly against the back wall of the elevator. She watched the metal doors close.
The elevator seemed to take forever to get to the fifth floor, and Eleanor found her mind drifting to different possibilities. What if she got a part time job? Surely being a cashier couldn’t be that hard. And it might give them a little bit of extra money. Eleanor was ready to do almost anything to make their financial situation a little bit more comfortable—they were very quickly burning through their savings.
The elevator reached the fifth floor and Eleanor stepped out in the hallway. She fumbled with her keys in her hand until she rounded the corner, and reached their unit. Eleanor briefly wondered if Jackson would be back from his run by now or if he was still out. With his arm in a sling and being still in pain, Jackson’s runs had been more or less of a brisk walk. Enough to get his heart rate up and keep him in decent shape, but he wouldn’t be running a marathon any time soon.
Eleanor let herself in and found that Jackson was back. He was sitting on the sofa with the letter in front of him on the coffee table. He was not wearing his shorts and t-shirt that he had been wearing when she had left. He was now in a clean shirt and jeans. He was back from his run and had showered—as evidenced by his wet hair.
“Hey, glad you’re home.” Jackson smiled. He crossed the room and kissed her cheek. “Let me take one of those.” He lifted one of the grocery bags into his good arm.
“Thanks,” Eleanor breathed, suddenly realizing that the bags had actually been quite heavy.
Eleanor followed Jackson into the kitchen and put the bag down on the table. Jackson set the second bag down on the counter. “Can you do me a favor, Ellie? Can you open these for me?” He surrendered the bottle of ibuprofen to her.
“Yeah, of course.” She easily twisted the cap off, handing him back the open bottle. “If your arm is bothering you, why don’t you take the medicine that the doctor prescribed for you? It would probably be a lot more effective than just over-the-counter pain relievers.” She reached into the grocery bag and produced the carton of eggs that had been sitting on top. She placed them carefully into the fridge.
Jackson downed a couple of tablets and chased them with a glass of water. “You know I don’t do drugs, Ellie. I don’t like anything that clouds my judgment.”
Eleanor sighed. “Jacks, they’re not drugs. It’s not like you scored them off the kid on the corner. They’re prescription. If you take them as directed and don’t over-do it you aren’t going to get addicted.”
“It’s a slippery slope, Ellie. Besides, I want to make sure that I am clear and level headed when I get cleared to go back to work finally.” He mused.
Eleanor understood his reservations about the prescription. She understood that in his line of work he saw addicts and people who would become addicts almost every day. Eleanor completely understood. However, at the same time she knew that if the prescription painkiller dulled his pain for even a little while and offered him at least some relief, it would be worth it. And it didn’t hurt that the prescription was covered under his benefit plan at the police department.
Jackson leaned against the counter and watched as Eleanor rummaged through the grocery bag in search of the carton of milk that needed to be refrigerated.
“Ellie, don’t freak out.” Jackson began.
Eleanor sighed. “I really hate it when you preface a conversation like that because it almost certainly means that I will freak out.”
Jackson smirked crookedly. “Don’t get upset, but I’ve been thinking about this letter.” Jackson began, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He produced the letter and held it up in front of himself.
Eleanor pursed her lips, trying not to let her disappointment leak into her voice. Finally, she spoke. “I thought we talked about this and decided it was a hoax. Too good to be true and all that other stuff.”
Jackson looked down at the letter, still clutched between his thumb and forefinger. “We did. But I called a buddy of mine down at the precinct. You know, McGregor.”
Eleanor nodded. She vividly recalled him from a few holiday parties, and how his accent always seemed to get impossibly thicker as he drank. “Ah, yes. Stereotypical Irish cop.”
Jackson grinned. “That’s the one. Well he had an old partner who transferred up to Oregon. Turns out he’s now chief of the Portland detachment. I sent him an email with the mailing address that was listed at the bottom of the letter and asked him to do some checking. He got back to me this morning and told me that he knows some state troopers who are familiar with the area-“
Eleanor cut him off. “So wait a minute. You’re telling me that you know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows another guy…”
Jackson shrugged with his good arm. “Well, yeah. I guess. But they’re all cops, you see. So that makes them more credible. Any way, let me finish.”
Eleanor nodded and eased herself into a chair at the kitchen table, patiently waiting for Jackson to make his point.
“The state patrol have said that there are a lot of big houses in the area. It’s a wealthy, multi-million dollar area. All of the houses are huge and expensive. But without the proper house address, they couldn’t tell much about whether or not this L.M. Quinn actually lives in the area or not.”
“Of course not.” Eleanor mused.
“But,” Jackson said eagerly. “They were able to look into the mailing address. The mailing address that was given does belong to an L. Quinn. That is something!”
“No it’s not. When we applied for our mailing address, people just asked us where we lived. We didn’t have to prove who we were. Anyone can go to a post office location and apply for a box. Anyone could give a fake name, and the post office would have no idea.” Eleanor countered.
“Not in the state of Oregon.” Jackson grinned. “I asked that too. In the state of Oregon, when you apply for a post office box you need to live in the area, and provide proper documentation. They would have had to show a proof of purchase for the house, probably a utility bill and photo identification.”
Eleanor thought about this for a moment. “But Quinn is a popular last name. The first initial being L doesn’t really narrow it down. It could still be anyone.”
“Right. But if we contact them back, and have them send plane tickets as well as a location, my cop buddy in Oregon will be able to look into things further. He can look into property deeds, taxes, DMV records…” Jackson ticked the items off on his fingers as he said them.
Eleanor drew in a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe you’re actually considering this. I mean, it’s completely and utterly crazy. Letters don’t come like this just don’t appear out of thin air. It’s just… it’s all too convenient. I mean honestly, you’re a cop. If you got an email or a letter similar to this, you’d tell anyone in their right mind that it is complete bullshit. Wouldn’t you?”
Jackson didn’t reply, but considered her statement carefully.
Eleanor stood and rummaged through the grocery bags. The first thing she pulled out was a box of cereal and she placed it in the cupboard.
Jackson pulled a bag of romaine lettuce from the other grocery bag and awkwardly managed to get it into the fridge one handed. “Listen, Ellie. I’m not saying that we sign over out lifesavings to help some prince in a foreign country recover his lost assets…” He began. “I’m not even saying that we should jump on a plane, fly across the country and put all our trust in someone who may or may not be the most illustrious writer of our time…”
Eleanor waited impatiently for him to make his point.
“I’m just suggesting that you get more information before you decide. The post office box thing is a pretty significant. If it is a hoax, the person has gone to a lot of trouble. But ultimately, it’s your decision and I’ll support you one hundred percent.”
Eleanor swallowed thickly. “So if you were me, what would you do?”
“If I were you, I would contact them at the email given. See if you can get a location. You’re smart and if you’re careful, we can get more information. Don’t give them any money, or our credit card information. The letter said that we’ll be provided plane tickets. And hell, if they do give us plane tickets. We’ll cash them in and go someplace. It’s been a while since we’ve been on vacation.” Jackson shrugged with a grin.
Eleanor paused with a bag of elbow macaroni in her hands. She stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the bag for a good solid minute. “I’ll think about it, okay, Jacks? No promises, though.”
“Yeah of course.”
“Now help me put these groceries away. I have an article to finish.” Eleanor said with a smile.