Canceled Postage, Broken Dreams

Excerpt from the 14th novel in Ruprecht W. Gondersutton's Dead Letter Office mystery series called Canceled Postage, Broken Dreams. ====================================================================
 "Cel, come here a minute. Take a look at this.", calls out Reef Martin, 46, a tall handsome man with the broad shoulders and powerfully muscled arms typical of the Level 3 investigator in the sprawling Postal Service - Central Division/Long Term In-Process Letter & Small Package Research Center aka The Dead letter Office. "One minute, Reef, be right there", replies Celsia Fahrenheit, an attractive strawberry blonde-haired woman with green eyes, in her late 30s, a Level 2 investigator and Reef's partner.

Cel walks into the spacious well-lit Postal Materials Inspection Laboratory and settles onto a wooden lab stool next to her partner. On the lab counter, amidst the microscopes, sophisticated electronic apparatus, bunsen burners, centrifuges and sterilized surgical instruments, sits a stainless steel examination platform where a single slightly wrinkled off-white #11 envelope is held securely in place by three large klestermeyer clips.

Reef pulls a powerful articulated inspection lamp into place over the envelope and the two partners stare through 15x hand magnifiers.

The experienced investigators ponder silently, each certain they know what the other is thinking. "Look at the cancellation date.... six months ago..." says Reef. "Yeah, that's a long time... Did you run a postage adhesion assessment?" Cel asks. "Sure. Boys in the lab are running the tests now. They'll come up when they have an answer. The postage looks pretty secure. But it's best to know for sure",

Reef says. "No return address but the addressee block looks pretty clear. Mrs. Delores Schmee, 1435 N Caterwaul Ave. Bennington, Vermont. About 900 miles away. Hmmmm.... How the heck did you get all the way over here, my papery friend?', Reef asks, with deeply furrowed brow.

 Cel blushes slightly at her partner's rough language. They were both consummate professionals but she knows all too well the emotional connection undelivered mail can create in the lab. She hopes this case wasn't getting to Reef.

Cel says quietly, "We could drop it in the re-delivery box and give it a second chance." Reef looks up at his partner, eyes afire. "Is that your answer? The re-delivery box? Damn it, Cel! I told you I promised Lou! I don't work that way!" Slamming his fist hard against the bench top, Reef turns away to try to regain his composure. Cel knows the reference to Reef's former partner means this case is really getting to him.

 "Reef", she says, putting her hand gently on his arm, "I ran in to Pepito in the break room yesterday and he told me the motor pool just received two Hudson V-16 Excaliburs. Why don't we sign one out and drive up to Vermont and see if we can deliver this envelope." Reef turns slowly to face her, his eyes red and wet. "You'd do that?" "Sure, I would. Look, we're partners. Even tho there are three million other pieces of lost mail here we need to process, if you have a hunch on this envelope we need to see this one through, I say we go for it. We gotta stick together."

"You would have liked Lou, Cel. He'd have liked you, too. And... And he'd be really tickled if he could see us in that new Hudson. Ok! Let's do it!", Reef declares.

Just then, a short stocky man in a lab coat approaches the investigators. "Hey, you two. How's life on Easy Street?", he asks with a grin. "

All right, Paulie, skip the Jack Benny impression. What did you have on our mystery envelope here?", Cel asks. Paulie says "Ya sure ya wanna know?" "Don't fool around, Paulie, what's the test say?" "Well", Paulie says, "first of all, the stamp is tightly affixed." Cel and Reef high-five each other and yell "YES!" simultaneously.

 Paulie says, "Wait. There's more. Just for the heck of it, we ran the sample through Doc Bristol's electro-chem analyzer. It's bad. We found traces of salt residue. It could be salad dressing or it could be evidence of... homicide." Before he could say another word, Cel and Reef are grabbing their trench coats and heavy black investigator's valises.

"We owe you one, Paulie!" exclaims Reef, with a punch to the lab worker's shoulder. "C'mon, Cel, we're going to Vermont!" as he and Cel head quickly for the motor pool to pick up the keys to a brand new fire-engine red 500 horsepower specially equipped "postal investigations" Hudson.

Meanwhile, just outside of the heavily patrolled Postal Service - Central Division compound sits a low-slung highly modified, jet black, turbine-engined Portuguese Riando-Capezi 2 seater. The two sinister figures in the car have positioned their rear view mirrors to keep a close watch on the gatehouse exit lane that opens onto Postmaster Blvd.

As the rumbling Hudson with its distinctive Postal Investigations black and gold-leaf logo and blue and orange rotating emergency lights eases out onto the wide highway, the distinctive whine of the Riando-Capezi's race-tuned engine spinning up to speed fills the air. ====================================================================

 Come back soon for another excerpt from Ruprecht W. Gondersutton's Dead Letter Office: Canceled Postage, Broken Dreams.