The Setup

Lea woke to thirteen voicemails.

She sat on the bed and, through bleary eyes, accessed the first message. It was a man’s voice, deep and threatening. Six words. “I know about the Owen letter.”

Lea screamed and dropped the phone. “That’s impossible!”

Her flatmate Charlotte rushed into her room. “Lea, are you okay? You’re shaking. What happened?”

Lea picked up the phone, punched the keypad, and put the phone on speaker.

“Who was that?” Charlotte asked. “And what’s the Owen letter?”

“I don’t know who it was, but as for the letter, it’s a long story. I’ll delete the message.” She deleted the voicemail and forced a smile. “I’ll be okay.” She exhaled loudly as Charlotte stepped outside and moved on to the next message. “This can’t be!” Lea clutched her chest as Charlotte rushed back into her room. “It was the same voice. Same message. There are more, and I’m afraid they may all be the same.” They sat on her bed and listened to the remaining messages.

The same voice. The same six words. “I know about the Owen letter.”

Charlotte traced her lower lip with a finger. “Thirteen voicemails? How intriguing.”

“I need some fresh air,” Lea said. “Will you come with me for a walk outside?”

“Sure.”

Minutes later, Lea was guiding Charlotte through a park laden with large, leafless trees, their skeletal silhouettes pasted against a grey sky. The frost-covered grass crunched beneath their feet, and Lea shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets. Her breath turned to mist each time she exhaled. They were joined by a friend and colleague, Dr. Ben Sharpe, a particle physicist from the research facility where all three worked. He had rushed to meet them at Lea’s pleading, and she updated him on the events of the morning.

“What’s this Owen letter?” Ben asked.

“This arrived in the post a few days ago.” Lea pulled a C5-sized envelope from her handbag and handed it to Ben. “Look at the date on the postmark.”

“Eight days ago,” Ben said.

“There’s a letter inside,” Lea added. “Look at the date it was written.”

“Just over two years ago and signed by an Owen Bennett.”

Charlotte looked at Lea, her eyes wide. “The Owen letter!”

“Is that Professor Owen Bennett?” Ben asked and returned the letter to Lea.

“The very same,” Lea said. “Only Professor Bennett and I knew about the letter. Because of its contents, he assured me he’d store it in a safe deposit box, and no one would know where that was, including me. He’d send it to me only if he believed his life was in danger.”

“Life in danger?” Ben said. He stopped walking and grabbed Lea’s arm, forcing her to lurch forward. “Are you suggesting he was killed because of this letter?”

Lea nodded.

“What do you mean, killed?” Charlotte asked.

Ben motioned for them to move to one side of the path. He glanced around, lowered his voice, and looked at Charlotte. “Professor Owen Bennett was shot and killed around twelve months ago. The police never found his killer.”

Lea jumped in. “In the days following his death, I waited for the letter, but it never arrived. I assumed he destroyed it or was killed before he could send it to me. The question is, how could it mysteriously surface twelve months after his death if only he knew its whereabouts?”

“The logical explanation is that someone else knew about it and mailed it to you,” Ben said. “But not the person who killed him.”

“If that’s true, then I’m afraid that whoever killed Professor Bennett may now come after me if they find out I have the letter.”

Ben spoke gently. “Lea, what is it about this letter that leads you to believe Owen was killed because of it? And why would your life be in danger?”

“I need to sit down,” Lea said. She led Charlotte and Ben to a bench and shuffled into a comfortable position. “Professor Bennett specialized in quantum mechanics and devoted years of his life working on a theory that led to arguably the most important scientific discovery of all time.” Charlotte and Ben seemed riveted. “However, he realized the potential ramifications if it fell into the wrong hands and hid all his research. This letter gives the location of his research documents.”

“What was he working on?” Ben asked.

“Professor Bennett believed we could predict the future.”

Charlotte burst out laughing. “Oh, come on! Predict the future? The most powerful computers can only analyze historical data and identify patterns. But accurately predicting the future is impossible. There are too many variables, and you know it.”

Lea stared at Charlotte, stone-faced.

Charlotte’s smile disappeared. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You believe Professor Bennett discovered a way to predict the future.” She shook her head, stood and turned her back to Lea and Ben.

Lea braced herself when Charlotte turned; her scarf covering her right hand. Her eyes bored into Lea, and she lowered her voice. “I want that letter.”

“Charlotte, what are you doing?” Ben said.

Lea raised a hand in Ben’s direction. “It’s okay, Ben. It’s what I expected.”

Charlotte laughed. “What you expected?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Lea said. “You killed Owen Bennett.”

“I want that letter, Lea. Now!”

Ben raised his voice. “Just what is going on here?”

Lea had to ignore Ben and directed her gaze at Charlotte. “Owen Bennett was my uncle. But you knew that, didn’t you Charlotte? When I graduated with my PhD two years ago, he took me into his confidence regarding his work in quantum mechanics and his theories about predicting the future. He also told me about a new love interest, a much younger woman he met while teaching part-time at university. What attracted you to him? His money? You somehow found out about his research, including the existence of the letter. When he refused to give you the location of either, you betrayed him and killed him.”

“Your uncle was a fool. He was sitting on the most important discovery in the history of science but refused to act on it.”

Lea raised her voice. “He knew the danger.”

“You said it yourself,” Charlotte snapped. “The only danger is if it falls into the wrong hands.” She smiled and spoke warmly. “Come on, guys. Think of all we could do? This could revolutionize our lives.”

“No, Charlotte,” Lea said.

Charlotte scowled. “Give me the letter now!”

“Would you like to know how I discovered you were the woman he’d befriended?”

Charlotte shrugged.

“Uncle Owen wore a particular white coat at the research facility. He’d ironed a picture of a peony, a pink flowering plant, onto the top left-hand corner. He wore it in remembrance of my aunt, who had died four years earlier. You arrived home from work a few weeks ago wearing the same coat. That’s when I realized you were my uncle’s love interest, and that you killed him because he refused to disclose the location of his research. Is that why you asked if you could share my apartment? Hoping I had the letter?”

“This is all fascinating,” Charlotte said facetiously. “It may even be true.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you have no proof that I killed your uncle.”

“Then why are you holding a gun under your scarf?”

Charlotte smiled. “Very observant.” She raised her right forearm, and the barrel of a handgun crept out from under the scarf.

Ben gripped the side of the bench. “Charlotte, this is crazy!”

“Be quiet!” Charlotte yelled. She glanced around, covered the barrel, and lowered her voice. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to tell me the location of his research, or at least the letter. Besides, I don’t even know how I shot him because I aimed the gun at the ground in front of him as a warning. But the next thing I knew, he was lying in a pool of blood. Then there was the second shot.”

“What second shot?” Ben asked.

“I thought I heard another shot. But I guess my mind was playing tricks on me because I pulled the trigger only once.” Charlotte shook her head. “Why didn’t he just give me the letter?”

Ben glared at Charlotte. “You killed a brilliant scientist!”

Charlotte pulled the hammer back on the gun. “Give me the letter now, Lea.”

Lea remained calm. “Are you going to kill us too?”

“There’s no one here to witness it.” She slid the scarf back along the barrel to reveal a silencer. “It’s your choice whether you live or die, but I will get that letter either way.”

A male voice exploded through a megaphone. “Put the gun down and raise your hands!”

Lea exhaled deeply and smiled at Charlotte’s look of astonishment when tactical police converged on the scene from behind trees and bushes with weapons drawn. Charlotte offered no resistance when the police relieved her of the gun and placed her in handcuffs.

“Thank goodness!” Ben said and clutched his chest.

“You set me up,” Charlotte said and shook her head. “You foolish woman.”

Lea spoke through gritted teeth. “You killed my uncle in cold blood.”

“Take her away,” a detective said. Officers led Charlotte across the park to a waiting squad car. The detective turned his attention to Lea and Ben. “Are you both okay?”

Lea nodded.

“A little shaken,” Ben said. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Take a moment. As soon as you’re up to it, we’ll need you at the station to make statements.”

After the detective departed, Ben breathed deeply and faced Lea. “You knew Charlotte killed Professor Bennett; you just needed to prove it. What you did was risky, Lea, but you pulled it off. I’m impressed. I guess you asked me here for support?”

Lea nodded. “And now the family can get a sense of closure regarding Uncle Owen’s death.”

“Why did you ask me to send the voicemails, let alone thirteen?”

“I wanted to convince Charlotte that Uncle Owen’s research was more than just theory. Last week, I wrote several letters from Owen to himself stating that he believed he was on the verge of a breakthrough. One letter said he finally arrived at the breakthrough after thirteen attempts. I sewed them into the lining of his white coat as if he’d hidden them there for safekeeping. I soiled the coat and suggested Charlotte take it to the dry cleaners, knowing they would discover the letters.”

“And by making sure Charlotte knew you received thirteen voicemails this morning, she’d be provoked into some kind of action. Clever. And the Owen letter?”

Lea smiled. “I had it all along. Uncle Owen gave it to me some time ago. I posted it to myself last week. And before you ask, it’s simply the culmination of his ideas and theories.”

Ben sat back and shook his head. “What a morning! I can’t believe Charlotte murdered Owen Bennett because she believed the ridiculous notion that he’d discovered a way to predict the future.” Ben stood. “I need a walk to calm my nerves. Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“See you at the police station.”

Lea watched Ben trudge off and smiled. Now that the police have Charlotte’s confession, it’s unlikely they’d attempt to match the bullet that killed Owen Bennett to her gun, let alone consider the notion of a second shot if, by chance, Charlotte raised it. Lea ran a hand over the envelope in her handbag. There was no need for Ben to know the truth about Uncle Owen’s research. The value of the letter inside was incalculable, and Lea needed to guard it with her life.