The Dead Letter Delivery by C.J. Archer

Author:C.J. Archer [Archer, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.J. Archer

Mr. Reid answered the door himself. From the grouchy look he gave Gabe and me, I suspected he wished he could close it in our faces. That would make him look guilty of something, however. I wasn’t yet sure what he was guilty of, but hopefully we’d know more after this meeting.

The grouchiness was a remarkable change from the shell of a man we’d first met a few days prior. Our inquiries had awakened something within him, something that had lain dormant, probably for a long time.

“I thought you were my housekeeper.” He checked his pocket watch before snapping the case closed again. “She’ll still be at church.”

“We have a few questions for you,” Gabe said. “Shall we talk in the drawing room?”

“I suppose, although there’ll be no tea.”

“That’s quite all right,” I said. “We won’t be long. We just need to clarify some points.”

Mr. Reid led the way to the drawing room and indicated we should sit on the sofa. He eased himself into a chair and pointed to the photographs on the table near the window. “Have you finished with the one you borrowed?”

“We need it a little longer,” Gabe said. “Mr. Reid, when I mentioned Rosebank Gardens over the telephone the other day, you refused to discuss it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know nothing about Rosebank Gardens. If that’s all you have to ask, then you can leave. I can’t help you.”

“The thing is, we believe Robin was there in 1891 or thereabouts.”

“Who told you that?”

“Robin’s old school friend mentioned that he changed at about that time, going from a confident young man to an anxious one. We know Rosebank Gardens was a private asylum at the time.”

“Don’t use that word! Asylum,” Mr. Reid sneered.

“So, Robin did go there?”

Mr. Reid gripped the chair arm, digging his fingers into the leather.

“Was Robin a patient at Rosebank Gardens?” Gabe gently pressed.

“We know he wasn’t mad,” I added. “Not when he was admitted, anyway.”

Mr. Reid smashed his fist on the chair arm.

“Why was he there?” Gabe asked.

“We did nothing wrong!”

I jumped at his vehement reply.

“No, of course not,” Gabe said. “You’re his parents. You loved him. You did what you thought was best. But the hospital changed him, didn’t it? It took a bright young man and destroyed his confidence.”

Mr. Reid’s face distorted as he battled to control his emotions and suppress demons he’d carried with him for years. But that’s the thing about demons. They can lie dormant for a long time, and we think we’ve beaten them into submission, but they wake up eventually.

“Mental infirmity, they called it,” he bit off.

“Who’s they?” Gabe asked.

“The doctors at Rosebank, that so-called hospital. But they couldn’t cure him of anything. He came out worse than he went in. He was a normal boy when we left him there and they sent back a broken, pathetic, useless child.” He smashed his fist on the chair arm again, harder. “My son was not mentally infirm when he entered that place, but he was when he came out of it.

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