Picture Postcards from L.A.: Beryl

As I entered my house, I sighed with relief that another case was over. I went into my office, turned on the computer, and, once it booted up and was running, started updating my database, adding Beryl to the list of people who owed me a favor and removing Max. I also scanned the list of people I owed a favor to, which was much shorter than the other list but also much more important to me.

Once I was finished with that, I called the L.A. Times and reinstated my ad in the Classifieds. I then turned on the answering machine for the personal ad line. Finally, I pulled a picture postcard out of the desk drawer, looking briefly at the picture on the front. I smiled, thinking about how I liked his donuts, and turned it over to write on it. Once I had it addressed, I put a stamp on it and took it out to my mailbox. After raising the flag, I paused for a moment, fighting the emotions welling up in me before pasting a smile on my face and heading back inside. It was a beautiful day, and I wanted to spend some time on the beach and de-stress before another case came up.

After all, there was never any rest for the wicked... and I was no angel.

Epilogue:

It was a hot, sunny summer day with thunderheads building as I headed into the office. I was looking forward to taking my grandchildren to the fireworks celebrating the 4th at Eldridge Park tomorrow night, but for today, I had a job to do. As I drove, I went over in my head what I expected to do today. Since this was a volunteer job, there really wasn't a lot to do, but it was important work, especially for the bereaved. Besides taking care of the minimal paperwork required to keep the place going, I was expecting to organize volunteers to do some cleanup and groundskeeping today, so I hoped the rain would hold off. Since retiring as a nurse working at the nearby Arnot-Ogden hospital in 1975, I have been happy to do this to keep myself busy. I couldn't even begin to count how many people I'd helped over the years.

As I passed Tompkins Street and approached the intersection with West Hill Road, I continued north on Walnut Street. As always, I glanced at the 'Dead End' sign and thought how appropriate it was as I passed it. I turned left just before Walnut Street ended at the gate into Woodlawn Cemetery and parked next to the office.

As I exited my car, the postman pulled up in his van and greeted me, "Hello, Gladys."

"Hey, Harry. What have you got for me today?" I asked as he held out a bundle of mail.

"The usual, and another picture postcard from L.A.," Harry said as I took the mail. I thanked him and hurried into the office, anxious to see what was on the postcard. I put the mail on my desk, the postcard on top, and started the coffee pot. I then sat down and reverently picked up the postcard. The front of the postcard was a picture of a giant donut with the name 'Randy's Donuts' on it, sitting on top of what looked like an ice cream stand.

I flipped the postcard over, already knowing what it said, just like the previous 47 postcards I had received over the years:

"I really miss you, Steph. I'm sorry I haven't been back to see you, but someday I will. Until then, here's a place I think you'd like to visit someday. I can't wait to see you again."

As always, it was signed "Ray" and addressed to Stephanie Lynne Dunbar. I paused, my eyes burning from unshed tears as I contemplated what I was honored to witness. I got up and went over to the bulletin board where the other 47 postcards were posted. All of them had pictures of various locations in L.A. I tacked this one up next to the last one received and stepped back to look at the board and the brightly colored pictures on it.

I wondered who Ray was and why he was sending postcards to a girl who had died just before Christmas back in 1971. Shortly after I started working here, the postcards began arriving, sometimes just weeks apart and, at other times, months apart. After receiving the first couple of postcards, I got curious and looked up who Stephanie Lynne Dunbar was. I discovered that she had died in a car accident and was buried here in a plot in the corner near the Five Points intersection. Once the third postcard showed up, I put up a bulletin board in the back room and started posting them. I was glad I hadn't tossed out the first two, thinking it was just a prank. Now, there were forty-eight of them, and I wondered how long this would continue and how many more postcards would come.

I heaved a sigh and put a smile on my face as I returned to my desk and started going through the mail. This was a mystery that, while making my job more interesting, wasn't going to be solved today, so I put it aside and went to work.

Author's Note:

This story is intended to be the first in a series of stand-alone stories around Ray and her adventures in the greater L.A. area. Eventually, we'll find out why Ray was cashiered from the Army, who started Ray on her career, and why she works for favors instead of money. Hopefully, I plan to write several stories, probably just once a year for the annual Crime and Punishment Story Challenge, but more if my Muse will let me. Let me know if you think a series would be a good idea.

Joshua Kadison wrote and sang a song named "Picture Postcards from L.A.," which inspired the title, some plot elements, and the name of the main character in this story. I have put a link to the song on my bio page if you want to listen to it.

For those wondering why Ray is driving a 'Sting Ray' and not a 'Stingray' is because the Chevrolet Corvette Model C2 (1963-1967) carried the block 'Sting Ray' nameplate. Model C3 (1968-1982) carried the same 'Sting Ray' nameplate for 1968 only and acquired the script 'Stingray' nameplate starting in 1969. Stingray was dropped for Models C4 through C6 before it was re-established with Model C7 in 2014. In my opinion, the C2 coupe was one of the most beautiful cars ever designed, and I've included a link to a picture of Ray's car on my bio page.