Dear Tressi [✓]

8

Tressi felt... relieved. The relief that a child might feel when it realises that the adults will take care of the problems. The relief that a cast off man might feel when he realises there was another human in the uninhabited island.

I'm not alone.

"Where do you think we ought to start?" Tressi asked eagerly.

"Well, we should start with what we already know about the case." Four decades with her police inpector husband had taught her the basics.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Let's discuss what happened the night Edda died." Mrs. Lepoci sat erect, clasping her hands on top of the table in a business-like manner. She never slouched—her mother would've never allowed that.

"Well... I'd... I'd..."

Mrs. Lepoci's expression softened. "There's nothing to be afraid of, dear. We're going to clear this up." She leaned forward to pat Tressi's hand. "Tell me what you remember."

Tressi took a deep breath to settle herself. "I'd just come back home for the winter break. I was busy with my college applications and it was very stressful. I was in and out of the house trying to get all the necessary forms ready. Meanwhile, Edda had auditions at the local theatre—'Merchant of Venice' I think."

"Tell me more about that day in particular."

Tressi closed her eyes in an effort to remember. "I hardly saw her that day. I saw her during breakfast but she scarfed it down and had to run to the theatre. She was in such a hurry."

"Did you see her again that day?"

"Yeah, when she came back. Something was wrong. Dax gave her a ride from the theatre, but she didn't even say goodbye. I was outside on the porch when he dropped her off; we chatted for a bit."

Daxton was Mrs. Lepoci's son.

"Yes, I remember Dax telling Andrew that he'd picked up Edda at the fifth street intersection. He said she was out of breath from running and had flagged him down."

Tressi lips trembled, but she didn't stop. "He was worried about Edda. He told me she'd been shaking throughout the ride and she'd asked him if Mr. Lepoci was home."

Mrs. Lepoci nodded, already familiar with her son's statement. Tressi continued, "I went in and Edda was in her room. I opened the door and she was pacing, deep in thought. She jumped when I entered. I asked her if she was okay and she told me she had to think some things over. She asked to be left alone so I went up to my room. I thought once she'd calmed down, she'd tell me what was wrong. That was the last time I spoke to her..." She couldn't go on. There was just no way she'd be able to tell what came next. There were no words.

Mrs. Lepoci got up from her chair and hugged Tressi around the shoulders. "You can do this, dear. I know it's hard. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, discovering the body. Andrew was so horrified with your statement, I remember. But you need to let it out and not bottle it up. It's going to be alright."

Tressi took another steadying breath. "I waited that night in my room, stayed up late waiting for Edda to come talk to me. But she never did. I don't know when I fell asleep. The next morning when I went downstairs, there wasn't anybody. Mom had stayed over at Vil's, but I knew she'd come back before breakfast. Edda wasn't in the kitchen or in the hall, so I knocked on her door..."

Mrs. Lepoci gave her arm an encouraging squeeze.

Tressi continued in a voice barely above a whisper, "I knocked but she didn't open. So I opened it myself and," she shuddered, "there she was. On the floor by the foot of her bed. Her throat was slit, her eyes wide and horrified. Her hair fanned out on the floor and she lay in a pool of her own blood—" Tressi's vision became cloudy as heated tears gushed down her face. "I knelt down and tried to... I don't know what I tried to do. I shook her. Nothing happened. She was dead."

*

Time stood still in Mrs. Lepoci's kitchen as neither her nor Tressi spoke. Tears still flowed silently down Tressi's face as Mrs. Lepoci watched, knowing there was nothing she could say.

Finally, Tressi drew on her years of practice at composing herself to look up at the old woman. "That was the first time I've spoken about what happened since talking to Mr. Lepoci. I don't know... I feel... lighter somehow... We'll figure this out won't we? But if Mr. Lepoci couldn't find out what happened, then how can we?"

"This case haunted him till he died, Tressi. It was one of his biggest regrets. Sometimes, I'd wake up in the night to find him pacing, thinking about the case. Such a horrific crime, that too right on his doorstep." She shook her head. "Even after he retired, he'd still pore over his notes and he'd discuss it with me. I myself, know the details so well that I could recite them in my sleep."

"Then how can we—"

"I know my husband couldn't solve the case. But that doesn't mean we can't try. He was a dedicated man who was good at his job, but he was human too. Maybe he missed something—"

"And do you think we're likely to find it even if that was the case?"

"No. I wouldn't say that was likely at all—"

"Then what—"

"Let me finish, dear," Mrs. Lepoci pressed on, "it's certainly not likely that we'd find something he didn't. But, two things. One, just because he didn't succeed doesn't mean we can't try. And two, more importantly, it's paramount that we try because it might be a way for you to get some closure. This is something that's stopping you from moving on. Maybe once you've satisfied yourself that all possible solutions have been looked into, you'll be able to make peace with it. Maybe that'll give you the strength to accept what has happened and understand that it was in the past and that it shouldn't overshadow your future. You have to try, because that is all you can do."

Tressi nodded to show that she understood. She was going to try. Try her damnedest, because that's what Edda deserved.

All the while, doing her best to ignore the small voice at the back of her head that asked what this would mean for her and Des.