Henry,

Henry,

Given your lack of response to my previous letter, I’m going to assume you did not mean for me to find you. Well, you shouldn’t have made it so easy then. All I had to do was follow the money, even though your accounting system is convoluted and confusing, once I was on the right track, it led me straight to you. 

I am sorry to report that things have not been going well since you left. I know that’s not the news you want to hear, if you want to hear any news at all, but I’ve never been one to lie. Especially not to you. I know you left us for a reason, even if you refuse to tell the rest of the family what it is. Just like I can’t lie to you, you can’t keep a secret from me. I know you far too well, something that scares you and I both.

I think you knew you didn’t have to tell me why you had to leave. You knew I’d understand. If I didn’t before, I certainly do now. I would die for the family. I have killed for this family. However, there are days when I have to restrain myself from pointing my gun in their direction. Ever since you left, everyone has been up in arms. Each day brings a new problem.

For example, this morning Richard barged into your office where I was looking through the paperwork you left behind, trying to understand it all. He was drunk and he reeked of a dirty back alley. You’d think since this family owns a bar, he’d at least sleep off whatever stupor he finds himself in each night in one of our booths, but it seems he prefers to lie face down on the piss soaked brick road behind a bar probably owned by our competition. 

Anyway, in he comes, stumbling, sweating, and yelling about you. You are all anyone wants to yell about. Why did he leave us? Why didn’t he say goodbye? Why didn’t he tell us why? I know now to just let him yell, to let him tire himself out. This particular morning though it seems he had an abundance of energy. He yelled and ranted for forty-five minutes before he ended up slumped on the couch and muttering into his hands. I try not to get mad at him. He just misses you. I miss you.

Then, Linda comes in, and she starts to go off at Richard about never being home anymore, leaving her alone with the children. She barely looks at me the whole time, except to gesture wildly in my direction when telling Richard that we all think he drinks too much. She’s right of course, but what I really said to her was that Richard has always drunk too much, long before she came into his life, and long before you left. In fact I said to her that I think everyone in this family drinks too much, including her. She did not take kindly to that.

I was just sitting there, in your chair behind your desk in your office, surrounded by your papers filled with your writing. I was even wearing your coat. You left it behind, thrown over the back of one of your couches, and one morning it was especially cold and my warm jumper was all the way upstairs, so I put it on. I haven’t been able to take it off. I hope you don’t mind. It makes me feel better, keeps me remembering that you’re real, that you weren’t just a ghostly figure I followed around for most of my life. 

While Linda droned on, I refocused on the mess you left behind. Truly it is unlike you to leave things so untidy, but I know your leaving was quite last minute, so I guess I understand the disorganisation. When I first went into your office after you left, there was a cigarette still balanced on the edge of the ashtray, and when I sat at your desk I saw you’d left the cap off your pen. That was why no one looked twice when you took off, because it looked like you were coming back. I knew you weren’t, at least not for a while. 

I shuffled papers, squinted at messy handwriting, deciphered two’s from five’s and soon enough I was staring at the backs of Richard and Linda as they shuffled out of your office, Richard’s arm over Linda’s shoulders because he couldn’t walk on his own and mumbling apologies into her hair. I pretended not to hear her forgive him. She always forgives him. Last week, I told her that if he makes her so angry, she should divorce him. She did not like that either.

They left the door open, as everyone always does, so I got up and slammed it behind them. I was frustrated and tired so I went a step further and locked it. Even you never locked the door, but I didn’t want any more interruptions. I felt a sense of peace as I heard the lock click over. No one could get in. No one could stand in front of me and yell about you into the room like I’m not even there. I know why they come into your office. It’s the room that still holds the most potent memory of you. I know everyone else is angry that I claimed it first, this piece of you. But who else is going to run things?

Richard isn’t my biggest problem. Since you’ve left, we have been receiving…I’ll call it correspondence from many of our friends. A bouquet of flowers, a fruit basket. Only one of them I know to be a legitimate gift. The rest I know are threats. They think since you’re gone, we’re weak. I have been ignoring them for the most part. Majority of the senders I know are simply letting us know they’re waiting for our next move. One or two of them, particularly the hamper from Mr Towles I know is truly malicious. His card gave me pause because of his mention of the children.

While all the others I believe can be dealt with by a visit from Isaac and the lot, Mr Towles I think I’ll see in person. I know you hate to see me so wrapped up in the dark side of the business, but I can’t let such a blatant threat pass. Not when we’re clearly being watched by so many, and he's decided to involve the children. Then we'd really look weak.

I won’t kill him, not yet at least. No matter how much I’d like to. I’ve never liked Mr Towles, you know this. I spent enough time shadowing you to know how business like this is handled. I just wish you told me about all these accounts. I feel I’m going cross eyed trying to keep track of all the money you move from place to place. One million dollars here, another million there. I understand the why of course, but surely there has to be a better way? You’ll just have to walk me through it once you’re back. 

The others don’t think you’ll be back, they think you're dead. I keep quiet with my objections. If Richard gets even a whiff of where you are, he’ll hunt you down. I know you think I shouldn’t have to protect you, but if I can protect you from one of Richard’s rampages, I will. Richard wouldn’t understand the need to get away. 

I know I should leave you be. I think this is the closest to a holiday you’ve ever taken, and I don’t want to dampen it with the very bullshit you left behind. But, unfortunately for you, you’re my big brother and I love you, and as a younger sibling it’s my duty to pester. I have so many questions for you, most I know you will refuse to answer so I won’t bother.

So I asked only one, and please, big brother, if you could burden yourself to pick up a pen and reply to me at the address I sent this from, so no one at the house has a chance of finding it accidentally.

Who is J.M.C? And why have you run away with him?

Yours truly,

Mary.