The Crossroads (Stories from the Golden Age) by L. Ron Hubbard

Author:L. Ron Hubbard [Hubbard, L. Ron]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, anthology
ISBN: 9781592127450
Publisher: Galaxy Press LLC.
Published: 2010-06-25T10:00:00+00:00

My Darling:

This has all been a dream and I am grateful. You must not think of me again for I am not worth the thought. I knew I could not be with you past this dawn and yet I allowed your love for me to grow. Darling, try to forgive me. I go into nothingness. Do not think of me as unfaithful for I shall be faithful. But I was given forty-eight hours of freedom and now— By the time you read this I shall be dead. Do not search for me. It cannot be otherwise. I am grateful to you. I love you.

Meredith

At six, Tommy Crandall woke with a terrified start. He did not know what had happened but he seemed to hear a far-off voice cry to him. Meredith was gone. He flung back the covers and leaped up to search madly for her. A valet looked strangely at him.

“Mrs. Crandall left here two hours ago, sir. She went in a taxi. She said she had left you a note— Here it is, sir.”

Tommy read the note and then, trembling, read it through again. He walked in a small circle in the middle of the room and then suddenly understood. Wildly he snatched at his clothes and got them on.

“Get the car!” he roared at the valet. “Oh, my God, get the car! I’ll find her. I have to find her!”

He did not bother to go to the Astor, for there was an urgency in the note which directed his steps immediately to the police.

And he found a sleepy sergeant at the morgue who yawned as he said, “You can look but we ain’t got nothing like that in here. Two firemen that burned up on a ship and a couple of accident cases come in about dawn. But we ain’t got no beautiful woman. No, sir, it ain’t very often you see a beautiful woman down here. When they’re beautiful they don’t let themselves—”

Tommy flung away and then turned. “How do I find a medical examiner?”

“That’s a thought,” yawned the sergeant. “Call headquarters and they’ll give you the duty desk.”

It was eight o’clock before Tommy found the medical examiner who knew. The man was still perturbed and perplexed, for he was not at ease about things. He was a small, nervous politician’s heel dog.

He ran a finger under his collar as he gazed at the overwrought young man who stood in the doorway. “Well, I thought it was irregular. But it was my duty and there was no sign of foul play. And so I took the death certificate and signed it—”

Tommy turned pale. “Then . . . then she is dead.”

“Why, yes. A funny thing,” said the coroner uncomfortably. “But she came and got me and said to come along and, of course, a beautiful woman that way and looking rich, I went along. And we came to this undertaking parlor and went in and she said she had two hundred and twenty dollars of her own money.

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