Dust to Dust

Mrs. Hartefeld was overcome with curiosity.
    She and Hanks sat on one seat, facing to the rear, Vanessa and the others facing forward. It reminded Diane of a stagecoach, only the ride was smoother. Vanessa served them orange juice from a small refrigerator. Diane had expected Hanks to say no when she called, but he too thought they might get more information if Lillian were there. Hanks seemed surprised that Lillian Chapman wasn’t frail. Diane thought he expected her to be in a wheelchair. She was slim, had strength in her arms and legs, and had a sharp mind and a clear voice. She did not look like a woman in her mid-nineties.
    Vanessa and her mother wore pantsuits. Vanessa’s was a navy raw silk suit with a blue shirt. Her mother wore a turquoise linen suit with a peach blouse. Both had platinum white hair. Vanessa’s was pulled back in a twist. Her mother’s was short with a slight wave that reminded Diane of the twenties, but with a little more lift. Harte had on a black skirt and a pink sweater set with pearls. They looked like very unlikely sleuths.
    Lillian was telling Diane and Hanks about one of the letters. Diane was particularly thrilled to hear what they had discovered among one stack of letters tied with a pink ribbon. It contained a piece of information she needed to go along with other evidence to present to a judge for a warrant.
    “I knew Ernestina Hillard from childhood,” said Lillian. “Poor soul died young. She wasn’t yet eighty.”
    Hanks suppressed a smile.
    “She wrote me while we were in Europe. My husband, Vanessa’s father, was in the diplomatic corps and we traveled a lot in those days. Vanessa was schooled in Switzerland. I don’t know whether that was a good idea or not.”
    Vanessa rolled her eyes. “ Mother ,” she said.
    “Be that as it may, there we were, and the only news we got from home was bits in foreign newspapers and letters from friends. Dear Ernestina was the most reliable. She wrote me about the scandals, in particular. I’m ashamed to say, I rather enjoyed them.”
    “Was there a scandal concerning the Gauthiers?” asked Hanks.
    Diane thought Detective Hanks would be impatient to get to the point, but he seemed to be somewhat in awe. She got the sense that he enjoyed meeting Vanessa and riding in her limousine.
    They passed through an area of road construction where the pavement was uneven and their orange juice almost sloshed out.
    “Oh dear,” said Lillian. “I didn’t get anything on me, did I?” She looked down at her blouse. “You know, the older you get, the less you can afford to have food stains on your clothes.”
    Hanks laughed.
    “You’re fine, Mrs. Chapman,” said Harte.
    “Diane told you about the letters, didn’t she?” asked Lillian.
    “Yes,” said Hanks. “People don’t write letters much anymore, do they?”
    “No, they don’t, and that’s a shame. But I have to tell you, I rather enjoy my e-mail,” she said.
    Hanks raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t expecting that.
    “Vanessa and Harte found so many of my old letters. Apparently, I had just dumped bundles of them in a trunk. But the one thing they found was just a wonderful surprise,” she said.
    “What was that?” asked Hanks. He knew, because Diane told him when they picked him up at the station. It was kind of him to let Lillian tell it.
    “An unopened letter from 1957. I can’t imagine a greater treat. Judging from the date on it, it must have arrived about the time we were packing to come home from Europe. We flew home, of course, but our trunks and the furniture were sent by ship. I guess I just stuck the letter in one of the steamer trunks with my other letters. I always kept my letters together with a pretty ribbon tied around them so they wouldn’t get lost. In all the rush and confusion of packing and unpacking, I must have forgotten it was there. Travel in those days was quite a bit more involved than it is today, you know, particularly with a retinue as large as ours, and if you had an unmarried teenage girl under your arm. You would not believe those European men, their audacity.” Lillian waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought. “But in any event, that which was lost is found again. And what a surprise when we found it. Vanessa, Harte, and I had a wonderful time reading it.”
    She took it out of her purse and handed the translucent blue pages to Hanks. He and Diane had to strain to read the spidery handwriting.
Dear Lillian,
Do you remember