One Way Ticket

As I got into my fancy yacht, my heart was pounding hard in my chest. I recently received a letter from Mr. Bennison. Mr. Bennison asked me to deliver this letter to a woman named Tabitha Wiggins, a woman living on the other side of town near the river. Weird thing is, however, Mr. Bennison had fear in his voice as he told me. He didn’t tell me why he had fear, all he said was to deliver this letter fast. Now that I’m in my boat, I have fear myself. 

Questions run through my mind as I drive along the water. Does Tabitha know Mr. Bennison? They live on the opposite side of Walker Falls. Does this have any connection with the murder of Shelby White? Shelby White was a theater actress who was stabbed behind the curtain and now the murderer is coming after Tabitha Wiggins who was an opera singer. Does Mr. Bennison have any connection to the murderer or is he the murderer? Maybe the letter was a death threat that she was his next victim. He wasn’t at the theatre when Shelby White was murdered. 

Where was he? If I were a detective, I would put him as the number one suspect. What do I know, I’m not a detective, I’m just a rookie photographer. I should be taking pictures of anything: nature, food, people: anything than just this. But then maybe is for the better: I don’t want to photograph a murder anytime soon. 

It took a good 10 minutes for me to get my yacht to the other side of Walker Falls. I stopped my yacht at the dock. I stepped out of the boat as I looked down. At the dock was a man. He was wearing a green coat and hat. “Hello!” he called out to me. “Hello, sir!” I shouted back. I walked towards the friendly stranger. “Who are you, dear stranger?” the man asked. “Benedict Rand” I responded. The stranger smiled as he held out his hand. “Ronnie Brice” he said as we shook each others hands. Ronnie was staring at my camera. “Ah, you must be a photographer. Here to take some photos on this side of Walker Falls?” “No, no sir... I mean...yes, I’m a photographer. I’m not here to take pictures. Do you know a woman by the name of Tabitha Wiggins?” I have a letter for her.” I asked. 

“Tabitha Wiggins, you mean, the opera singer? Why do you have a letter for her?” he questioned me. I went past him as I trotted with no time to answer his question. “Look, its urgent. I have no time to answer questions. I need to find her address.” Ronnie ran towards me. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you find her. Do you have the address on the letter?” I gave the letter to him as he looked at the stamp. ‘34 West End Road. I know where this address is. Follow me.” 

I followed my new acquaintance along the island. As we strolled down the sidewalk, Ronnie stirred a conversation with me. “So you’re a photographer? Are you studying at the Photogenic Society?” “Yes, I am. I was getting pictures of a performance of a woman. Her name was Shelby White. She was performing at the Benny’s Theater. She was an actress, a pretty woman in her 30’s. I don’t suppose you heard the news?” I inquired. Ronnie looked at me with his stern green eyes. “No, what happened?” I took a deep breath before answering. “After Shelby White finished her performance, someone took a sharp object and stabbed her multiple times. She was murdered.”

Ronnie let out a deep breath. “Jesus, and no one saw who it was?” I looked down at the letter again, observing the stamp on the corner of the letter. “No, no one knows who killed her. When the police arrived, a strange man came up to me. He greeted me with his name and he requested me to deliver this letter to Tabitha. When he was talking to me, he sounded frightened, though I never asked why.” I said. 

“What’s his name?” Ronnie inquired. “Mr. Bennison. A middle aged man in his 40s. Tall, has a grey beard. Do you know him?” Ronnie shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, partner. Have no idea who he is. Maybe when we reach Tabitha she will know him. I mean, she must know him, right?” I swallowed my nervousness. “Yeah, she must. Why else would he be sending a letter to her?” I responded. “Here we are, at the 34 West End Road. Her house should be the first one. I’ll knock for you.” Ronnie knocked on the hardwood door as Tabitha Wiggins opened it. 

Tabitha was a short woman wearing a red nightgown. She had long brown hair that almost touched the ground. “Can I help you guys?” She asked. “I’m sorry to disturbed you ma’am this late at night, but we have an urgent letter for you. My name is Ronnie Brice and this here is Benedict Rand. He has the letter for you. Mine if we come in?” Ronnie suggested. Tabitha invited us in her house. “So, who sent me a letter?” Tabitha asked. The nervousness was getting the best of me. “Ma’am, before I hand you this letter, do you know this man named Mr. Bennison?” Tabitha had a look of confusion on her face. “I’m sorry, sir, I have no idea who that is.” 

I glanced towards Ronnie and then back at Tabitha. “You sure you don’t know? He asked me to deliver this letter to you and that it was urgent.” Tabitha shook her head at me. “I’m sure, sir, I have no idea who he is. Can I see the letter still. Maybe it’s a secret admirer.” She giggled. I handed her the letter as she began opening it. “Do you, by chance, are performing at the Benny’s Theater anytime soon?” Ronnie quipped. Tabitha didn’t answer as she scanned the letter. After reading the letter, her face went from excited to petrified. 

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” I asked. “Well, I did plan to have a performance at the Benny’s theater.” Tabitha finally answered Ronnie’s question. “And what did the letter say?” Ronnie asked. Tabitha faced both of us. “Well, whoever this Mr. Bennison is, in his letter he says that I shouldn’t perform at the Benny’s Theater.”