Rightfully Theirs

The fire blazed from the light in the gas lamp. In fact, it exploded and sent the horses scurrying about, spooked by the blast. The cool October wind sent sparks into the air. Gaston Fellows’ buggy approached the lawyer’s office in 1896 Newark, Delaware. Somehow, the fiery show from the lamp post explosion seemed like foreshadowing to Fellows.

The driver pulled up to the attorney’s office and stopped. He proceeded to allow Fellows to exit the

He wore a green velvet overcoat, navy three-piece suit, and a brown top hat. He stepped intrepidly into the attorney’s office. He met with Lamont Derry, Esq.

“Good evening, Mr. Fellows,” Derry said.

“Good evening.” Replied Fellows with cool confidence.

“Now of course we should discuss the proceedings immediately, so as to avoid wasting your time,” said Derry.

Fellows nodded in agreement. “Thank you,” he said.

“Your uncle Paul Fellows left you with an inheritance of twenty thousand dollars. This is a significant amount of money, as you know, and can be a life-changing figure.”

“Absolutely.”

“You will get the money, but your Uncle Paul has left you with a little token to go along with it.”

“What token?”

Derry brought out a small black notebook.

“What’s that?”

“This is to go with the key you received from a gentleman last Thursday.”

The tiny black book featured a gold latch capable of being opened with the key Derry had mentioned.

“Is it a journal? A diary?”

“I’m not sure,” Derry replied. “Your uncle just said that it was to accompany the money he left you.”

Fellows’ eyes squinted. Then he realized that he would be richer and brightened.

“If he wanted me to have the money, and the small black book, it must’ve been for a good reason. Should I open it here?”

“Be my guest, sir.”

Fellows found the key he had been given a few days ago. He placed it in the keyhole and turned the mechanism. The clicking sounded almost musical to him. Fellows opened the pages and found detailed entries.

He leapt from his chair.

“What? What is it, Mr. Fellows?”

“I don’t believe it,” Fellows said, his dark skin turning ashen. He circled the office with his hands behind his back and his head tilted upward at the ceiling.

Derry looked at the entries.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Derry said, recoiling for a moment.

Fellows turned to Derry with both hands on his desk.

“Is this real?”

“That it is.”

“These are all the three unsolved murders in Newark! This means...my uncle...he was the killer! He planned and carried out these crimes, and left me to bear the burden of his conscience?! The goddamn coward!”

Derry interjected, “He left you twenty-thousand dollars, Mr. Fellows.”

“Yes, I understand that, but what good will that do me when the money more rightly belongs to the families of his victims? After all, you’ll be obliged to report this discovery now, as an officer of the court, correct?”

“Yes, that’s true....The money is yours, but I do have to notify the proper authorities.” He reached for the candlestick telephone.

“Of course. Of course. I’ll take this money and figure out what to do with it. My first thought is to give it to the people left in the wake of my uncle’s evil.”

Derry started talking to the police so that they could notify the detectives of the cases included in the small black book.

“I cannot be implicated in any of these occurrences...can I?” Fellows asked.

“You might be brought in to answer some questions.”

Fellows straightened. “I’ll be glad to answer any questions. Clearly, this man who I thought was my uncle was a cold-blooded murderer. I’ll do anything to see how these families can be comforted. That twenty thousand dollars is rightfully theirs.”