The Wistful Letter
The house breathed. That is the only way I can describe it, standing in the drafty foyer of the Ashworth Manor, where the air smelled of damp wool and old copper. I am a man who asks questions for a living, a private investigator hired by a widow to find a letter that her late husband had supposedly written to his first love. But the widow, Mrs. Elara Vance, did not want the letter for...
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