Love Can Be Murder

Dooley with an armful of mail.
    "Popular lady," Capistrano said.
    "I haven't picked up my mail in ages."
    "Does this mean I have to let you go outside every weekend you visit?"
    She shook her head at his foolishness, then flipped through the pile, discarding junk mail and sorting bills. A letter from Richard with a Birmingham postmark evoked a rueful noise from her throat.
    "What's that?"
    "A letter from an old boyfriend."
    He made a hurt face. "What if he wants you back?"
    "I'm not available," she sang, then opened the letter. A fifty-dollar bill floated out.

    Dear Roxann,
    I hope this note finds you well. I thought you'd like to know that I'm in AA and have been sober for almost five months. One of the steps to recovery requires us to seek forgiveness from people we've wronged and try to repair the damage we've done. I probably owe you my life for orchestrating that intervention, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I remembered that I owe you fifty bucks.
    Fondly,
    Richard

    "Is your old flame buying us dinner?" he asked.
    "Nope. You're buying dinner, he's buying a study guide that I need."
    She pulled out another envelope, this one forwarded to her through the Rescue program. "Another boyfriend?"
    "No, but your petty jealousy is turning me on." The letter was from Melissa Cape Morgan.

    Dear Roxann,
    Funny that I don't even know your last name, yet I owe you so much. Renita and I have never been happier—you are in our prayers every night. Enclosed is a picture that Renita drew for her "lady hero." Thank you.
    xoxoxoxo
    Melissa and Renita

    Renita had drawn a crayon version of their "rescue" to the airport. She'd portrayed Roxann wearing a long red cape and tall red boots. Roxann smiled, and her heart expanded. Maybe she had done some good all these years. She would call Tom Atlas tomorrow to see what she could do for the Rescue program on a part-time basis.
    The next card was a heartfelt message from Nell Oney's sister, thanking Roxann for attending the memorial service. So sad—Nell had suffered tremendously in the end. Roxann swallowed the lump in her throat and hoped Nell was in a better place.
    Finally she pulled out a thick, square envelope and grinned. "It's from Angora." She ripped it open and pictures fell into her lap.

    Dear Roxann,
    Thought I'd let you see what life on the farm is like. I really love it here, especially the animals. And of course, Mike is wonderful. We were married last Wednesday night at the justice of the peace. I was thinking about you during the ceremony. Mike and I are expecting a baby in the summer—we're both thrilled. Mother is less thrilled, but resigned.
    Much love, Angora

    P.S. Mike also runs a crop-dusting business on the side, so he's teaching me to fly a plane.

    The pictures showed a round-cheeked Angora, nearly unrecognizable because her hair was now a light brown—her natural color? She wore sensible clothes and shoes, and she was holding a baby goat. Another picture was of her in the kitchen, elbow-deep in flour and smiling into the camera. The third picture was a snapshot of her and Mike at the justice of the peace. Angora wore a knee-length white dress and a white hat, and held a bouquet of dried wildflowers, beaming. Mike wore a suit and bow tie, and looked as if he'd just won the lottery. The last photo showed Angora sitting in the cockpit of a crop-dusting plane, waving.
    "What's so funny?" Capistrano asked.
    "Angora is amazing. Who would have dreamed that she'd enjoy living on a farm?"
    He laughed. "I'll bet it has more to do with the farmer than the farm."
    "They're expecting a baby."
    "Wow, that didn't take long."
    "Angora wanted to have kids right away. She said our eggs are getting old."
    He pursed his mouth. "Hm. Might have to do something about that 'being a mother and having a daughter' thing on that list you made."
    "If that's a proposal," she said dryly, "think of a better delivery."
    He pulled in front of the duplex and parked at the curb. "You know I love you," he said. "I'm helping you move, for Christ's sake."
    She jumped down from the truck. "Nope, you'll have to do better than that."
    He caught up with her and grabbed her around the waist. He kissed her thoroughly, then lifted his head. "Okay, how about, 'Let's get married and have a bunch of kids'?"
    She grinned. "Is that a hypothetical question?"
    He scratched his head as if he just realized what he'd done. "Er, no. No it is not."
    She shrugged. "Okay." Then she turned and walked