Words Count 486
Mama is going to Love Her
By Sally Madison
Detective Evans knocked at the door, which was answered by a pretty young woman who
appeared to be in mourning. “May I help you?” she inquired with a sweet southern drawl
that could melt the coldest of hearts.
Tipping his hat, he inquired, “Godday, Miss Mary, I presume. I’m Detective Samuel
Evans. I would like to ask you a few questions concerning your sister, Sarah Morgan.”
The detective was ushered into the parlor before beginning, “I’m investigating an
incident and I believe that your sister may have been a witness. We understand that she
and her husband live here in Alexandria, but also maintains rooms in New York City.
When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“She was here yesterday. She gave me a quick good-by and left for New York.”
“Did she mention her husband?”
“She said he stayed in London.”
“Did she seem different or upset?”
“Why, yes. She was very distraught and in a hurry.”
“I understand that she travels in Europe, did she write to you from there?”
“Of course, I have saved all the letters. Let me show you.” Sitting near the detective, she
handed him the mahogany box with the “M” on it. He looked at the postmarks, but did
not read the letters. “Her letters were such a comfort to me after I lost my husband. I had
lost both my children, years ago. Sarah is the only family I have left.”
Evans looked into her sad face and felt sorry that he would have to take her only comfort
away, if his suspicions were true. Normally, such interrogations would be all business,
but his heart went out to this attractive widow.
Turning his attention back to business, “It’s considerate that she wrote so often, did she
also bring you any trinkets, jewelry or the like?”
“Why, yes, she gave me this emerald ring.” She extended her hand; he held it tenderly,
feeling the warmth of her delicate fingers while examining the ring.”
Mary lowered her eyes as they welled with tears. Confused, Evans withdrew his hold.
“I’m so sorry,” she continued, “your touch reminded me of days gone by, when I was
very young being courted, long before I lost my children and my husband. Now, I haven’t
much to look forward to in life.” She stood and turned away hiding her unhappiness.
“I am so sorry I upset you,” he stood to apologize. She turned toward him sobbing. He
naturally took her in his arms, as if she belonged there, forever. Shocked at his own
reaction, he stepped back, bowed formally, picked up the box, and retreated to the door.
“I will bring this back… tomorrow, perhaps?
“Yes,” Mary implored, “Please come back.”
With the mahogany box of letters in hand, he exited, still hearing that sweet southern
drawl, like a melody that continued to repeated in his mind. ‘Mama will love her,’ he