Mr. Mendoza
They say there are three sides to every story, your side, their side, and what actually happened. At this point I think honesty is the best policy. I have been staring at this piece of paper for about an hour, not knowing what to write. I have about twenty confidantes I would rather talk to about this matter. But somehow, only you come to mind. I get sick every time I think about it, so you can imagine what writing it down must feel like. I can’t tell you that I am completely innocent. But I’m not guilty either! Hell I don’t know what I am anymore…that’s why I’m writing you. You have a clear mind, a level head, and a stomach for decision-making, weighty decision-making. Your first decision will have to be to decide if you are on my side.
I am going to attempt to depict the events leading up to the murder very clearly. After that, it gets a little hazy. It’s not my fault; I think it is human nature to go blank after you have seen some sort of tragedy. I don’t like making excuses, in fact, I abhor it. But you have to believe that I just cannot remember, for the life of me, what happened after that man was killed.
You might recall him, Mark Campbell I mean. Who am I kidding? Of course you recall him. Everyone in damn Blaackthorn knows his name. The homeless even know his name! Newspapers printed it every day for weeks. And those on the margins of society used that paper as blankets. In some queer way his name sheltered those people for a fortnight or more. I guess that is appropriate
To be quite candid with you, Mark and I used to be the best of friends. I have a sneaking suspicion that you too would have enjoyed his company as a younger man. He was incredible. It’s funny you know, looking back in retrospect, and thinking about Campbell as a younger man. It seemed like everywhere we went people gravitated around him. He had an infectious air, like if you were close to him, in proximity I mean, you were better. But only I had the intimate camaraderie all those others sought.
Man is such a complex being, but I don’t need to tell you this. Mark was the type of individual that could share cordialities with an infinite number of people on any given occasion. He could enter a party on little sleep and tirelessly give his attention to anyone who asked for it, which was everyone. But in the end, and for the sake of this example, at the end of the party, there is but one person Mark wanted to share a conversation with…and that was yours truly. You can imagine that his shadow was cast long and wide. And you can also imagine that in his shadow is where I spent most of my time. You would be correct on both counts. But the truth is that I did not mind it. In fact, I almost preferred it. It didn’t make a damn bit of difference to me how Mark comported himself at functions or how congenial he was. The fact that I had a popular friend was merely a bonus. I admired Mark for who he was in solitude just as much, if not more, than I admired how gracefully he could compel a crowd to gather around him, whether he meant to or not.
About eight years ago Mark came to me with an idea to make a fortune. I am a natural skeptic, always have been. But the idea, or at least the idea in the way that he put it, was enticing. I don’t find it necessary to give you the details, but Mark fell short of the mark, way short. And I was the prime investor. It’s true, he and I stopped talking after I found out all my hard-earned money had been lost. In all honesty it wasn’t that he lost my retirement, it was how he went about the whole debacle. But I don’t find it necessary to tell you the details of that either. Suffice it to say that it wasn’t about money. It was about a genuine loss of trust. I lost my most beloved friend in the worst imaginable way. At least that was how I felt until I lost him for good, until I lost him without the opportunity to forgive him. Now all I want is forgiveness and I don’t even know what for! I have not done anything wrong besides rightfully be mad as hell.
But none of that matters. I can’t undo my shortcomings, or tie up Mark’s loose ends. All I can do now prove my innocence. Certainly after giving you that information I am a prime suspect. But it gets worse. It gets much worse. I was the last person to see Mark before his killer.
It was the night of April 12th and I had just ended a meeting. I don’t take to drinking often, but I was feeling link a pint or two would put me back in sorts. So I made my way to Weston’s for drink and may have gotten a little carried away. And then he showed up, Campbell I mean. You have never seen a drunk as ruffled as I when he met my gaze. Without inhibitions to restrain my anger, I lunged at him with a balled fist and caught him square on the cheek. After the contact I stumbled to the floor and saw him looking at me without a hint of retaliation in his eyes. It was Christ like; he would have turned the other cheek if I would have wanted seconds. He merely walked away.
I am not stupid. I know this next part is convenient and suspicious, but it is the truth. I closed my tab and went home to bed. The next morning I was going to confront Mark so I went to his apartment and found him lying in a pool of his own blood. A few people know Mark lost all of my money. A few more people know we were the best of friends and then suddenly estranged. And a few more saw me drunkenly punch him in Weston’s the night he was murdered. I had no one to back up my alibi so I fled the scene and town. I fear I have only exacerbated the problem but I need to know if I can trust you to believe me and are willing to lend me your talents so we can find Mark Campbell’s killer. It will relieve me of the blame and help cauterize the wound that was never closed between two friends.
Yours,
Stroud
Stroud,
You mischaracterized the three sides to every story. There is actually the police report, the story you tell your lawyer, and the following day’s tabloid write-up. I’ve got the police report in my hand and it’s damning to say the least:
“ Blood covered cushions… signs of a struggle, stab wounds in torso and mutilation of victim’s face and cranium…”
You get the gist. I’ll fill you in on more of the details when I hear your version of events. I don’t imagine the blood-sucking hacks in the Press Register will be any gentler to your reputation. I don’t need to know where you are right now, but before we proceed, understand that these next statements cannot be protected by client-attorney privilege if they involve an admission, even a tacit one, of the slightest guilt in any criminal matter. Disclosures could put me in an ethical bind, so before you send anything, know that I’m acting strictly as your friend until I figure out how I can help you. This address is safe, but don’t send anything to my office. I’ll be going in for the next few days to see if I can learn anything new from the official version of your situation the DA has. Until then, avoid making credit purchases and make sure your tail lights are in order, good advice for anyone I’m sure, even those who aren’t subjected to man hunts.
Other business: Elizabeth is fine. I know it’s been some time since the two of you talked and I’m not sure how she’s handling everything she’s hearing about you, but I wanted you to know that I see her and that she’s in good health. I’m not sure what’s happening to your remaining properties, so I’ll monitor the situation in case they move quickly to force repossession.
Stay Safe,
Mendoza
Carlos,
Thank you for the news regarding Elizabeth. I can’t say that her mental state or health are things I’m concerned about, but knowing that she is copacetic does give me peace on some interior level. I also thank you for trusting me and engaging in this correspondence that undoubtedly tests your ethical and professional fortitude. You are doing the right thing.
I have no intention of incriminating myself so I will try to depict events that can be seen objectively. I suppose I’ll start with how Mark and I came to be the closest of friends.
Let me back up twenty years and take you to the governor’s mansion. There was a celebration after his reelection. Campbell was his public relations guru and he performed his job to perfection. I was managing the campaign finances as a favor to the governor who was a family friend. Mark and I had met a few times at campaign meetings but only casually.
I was out on the balcony enjoying the balmy night when he walked out and asked to bum a smoke. I wasn’t a smoker but I felt uneasy, almost self-righteous admitting that to him so I just told him I was out of cigarettes. I have never told anyone that, not even him. I guess he just assumed I quit, or he knew I was lying all along. That doesn’t really matter now; I expect none of what I am writing matters now that I think about it. It is therapeutic, however, to write some of this down.
It is as if his murder has made him more present than ever to me. A flood of fond memories of him have occupied my down time. I wouldn’t describe myself as gregarious but this solitude and secrecy is getting the better of me nevertheless.
My apologies for the boring read. Keep me updated and don’t be shy about mentioning Elizabeth. Thanks.
Yours,
Stroud
Stroud,
I’ll do everything in my power to bring these facts to light, but know that my full trust is yours only when you’ve earned it. If my brusqueness offends you, I ask you to recognize the predicament you’re in. Your face is on the 10 o’clock news, your only ally is a soon-to-be-disbarred attorney, and your ex-wife (I’m sorry for speaking well of her in the last letter, she’s definitely a tramp) just put your Carrera on Craigslist. When you say you only found the body, I want to believe you, but I’m concerned you aren’t being completely forthcoming with me. The report indicates that your prints were on Campbell’s person and on multiple surfaces in the apartment. Before you reminisce on the good times, give me a detailed account of your visit to his apartment, exactly what transpired, and how you left the scene. If he provoked you, assaulted you, anything, let me know. I can work with any scenario except one where you keep essential facts from me.
While I’ve been in the office, I’ve searched everything I can find for information on Campbell. Nothing conclusive yet, but he sure is an interesting character.
Mendoza
Elliot J Nolan 