said, “may I ask you a question?”
“You may,” said Perch.
“Some weeks ago,” Fritzbrauner began, “Montaro called and asked me to check my safe to see whether or not the coin I had purchased from Cordiss Krinkle was still in my vault. When I looked, I discovered that it had vanished. I’d like to know, did you, in any way, have any influence in the removal of that coin from my safe?”
“I did not.”
“Did Montaro, to your knowledge, have any connection with that coin’s disappearance?”
“Not to my knowledge,” said Perch. “But he’s here, so you may ask him directly.”
“I would,” Fritzbrauner replied, “but he has said such nice things about me tonight that I don’t dare accuse him.” Spontaneous laughter quickly bubbled at Fritzbrauner’s remark, then just as quickly disappeared when the Beaumont’s maître d’ returned. This time, the maître d’ was accompanied by Tom Lund and Luther John Doe’s caretaker.
“Once again, please excuse this intrusion, gentlemen,” the maître d’ said, “but, I believe these were the people you have been waiting for.”
“Yes, we were,” Caine replied. “But where’s Luther?”
“He died this morning,” the caretaker said.
A ripple of disbelief coursed through the room before the caretaker spoke again. “He died peacefully. But before he did, he asked me to give you these.” She reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew a batch of sealed envelopes.
“And what are those?” Hargrove asked.
“Letters. From Luther. He woke me up early this morning and asked for my help in writing some letters. He seldom wrote anything, but when he did, he would dictate it to me. I wrote down what he said word for word. When we were finished with the letters, he seemed exhausted and confused. Then he looked up at me and said, ‘Promise me you will see to it that my letters are read. Then take me home so I can rest.’ He died five minutes later. His last request was that each letter be read aloud.”
The letters were addressed to each of the Walkers, Matthew Perch, Colette Fritzbrauner, and Montaro.
Caine rose to take his letter. Though he had not yet read a word, his eyes were already wet, thinking of the strange, crippled man who was one of the last people to see his father alive.
Montaro read aloud from the letter Luther had written him while Luther’s caretaker and Tom Lund distributed the rest of the letters to their intended recipients. “The gift I carved for you those many years ago, I had seen it in my dreams. Everything I told you and Dr. Mozelle, when you finally came to see me, was true. I never lied,” Luther had written. “We will meet again. And when we do, it will be in a world far away, one that will be waiting to greet us.”
Caine sat back down and rested his head on his hand as he contemplated the words he had read. The room was utterly silent. Then Matthew Perch opened his letter. “You will wander through the twilight of times past and those yet to come,” he read with quiet solemnity. “Prepare yourself for journeys without end. You will come to know many more of Heaven’s endless secrets, and observe the majesty of their designs.”
Next, Colette Beekman Fritzbrauner read aloud what Luther John Doe had dictated in his letter to her. “You wonder what your purpose is,” she read, surprised to find her voice wavering. “What is your destiny? You have questions but no answers. In the search for answers to life’s questions, purpose and destiny reveal themselves in a variety of subtle, complex signs and hints, not all of which are easily understood. Put your questions to whoever you feel is obliged to provide you with such answers as you seek. Do not hesitate. Upon some lucky occasions, you will find that the person who has the answers to your questions is none other than yourself.”
When she had finished reading, Colette continued standing, staring down, her watery eyes still fixed on the page. She thought of what her “purpose” and her “destiny” might be, and how these words that touched her so deeply could have been written by a dying man who barely knew her. Then, Colette slowly raised her head and stared at Matthew Perch. Looking directly at him, she asked, “Do you believe what Luther John Doe said? That our individual destinies have led each of us to gather here?”
“I do,” Perch said.
Colette pressed on. “The little model we all saw last week, the one that lifted