All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [77]
She started looking at the red-flagged entries, trying to see if something jumped out at her. She noticed there were a few that had already been opened but still had the red flag next to them. She turned to Quinn.
“Do I have your permission to go through Whitney’s e-mails?”
“Of course, do anything you need. I’m going to go out on the back deck for a little air, if you don’t mind.” Quinn stepped out the French doors and turned her back to Taylor. Just as well, she thought. She wouldn’t want some impersonal stranger to go through all of her things if she keeled over unexpectedly.
She started looking closer at the previously flagged e-mails and matching them to unread flagged mail. There were a couple that were self-explanatory, alerts from news organizations and the like. But there was one address she saw several times, the subject line always reading “A poem for S.W.” She took a chance and opened the newest mail from that address.
The window opened and there were just a few lines on the page. Taylor read them aloud:
“She half enclosed me with her arms
She pressed me with a weak embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
’Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly ’twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.”
She closed the e-mail, feeling like a spy. And Quinn thought her sister didn’t have a boyfriend. She scrolled through the list and saw that there were five more e-mails from the mystery man—IM1855195C@yahoo.com. She opened them and glanced through hurriedly. Each held a fragment of poetry like the first had. She wished Baldwin would send her anonymous love poems.
She went through the rest of the mail but didn’t see anything that leaped out at her. It was time to let Whitney’s sister take a crack at it.
“Quinn?” Taylor called over her shoulder, and Quinn came in from the deck.
Taylor pointed to the e-mails. “I’ve been through here and haven’t seen anything that seems terribly out of place. She seems to get a number of e-mails from the same people. Would you like to take a look and see if anything strikes you?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Lieutenant. My sister’s e-mail is just not something I’m interested in. And I can hardly think any of it would have to do with me.”
“Well, have a quick look anyway. I did find some love poems that had been sent to her. I thought you said she didn’t have a boyfriend.” Taylor’s voice was only slightly accusing. She wondered if there was any chance that Quinn knew anything substantive about her sister’s life.
“Love poems? Let me see.” Quinn leaned over the desk and Taylor pulled up the latest message. Quinn read the lines and got a strange look on her face. Taylor noticed.
“Something strike you as odd about this?”
Quinn’s face took on a soft countenance, and her eyes got moist. “It’s nothing, really.”
Taylor wasn’t going to let that go; the look on Quinn’s face told her that there was something about the poem. “I think there may be something here. There’re several more. Are you sure they don’t mean anything to you?”
Taylor looked at Quinn, who was trying to look away. Taylor could see that her shoulders were shaking slightly, and she was amazed to see a tear fall down Quinn’s lovely face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Is this getting to you?”
Quinn laughed out a sob. “No, it’s nothing like that. I loved my sister, and I’m sick at heart that she’s dead. But the poems, that’s got nothing to do with it. My husband used to send me poems. He doesn’t anymore.” She turned away and gathered herself