Free Ticket to Nowhere: Chapter 4
A Stark Mystery
I pulled out my phone as I trudged up the path toward the houses and ordered an Uber. The only driver in Nowhere turned out to be an elderly farmer who picked me up in his rattle-trap green truck.
“Hop in, Sonny. I got ta’ deliver these pizzas while they’re hot.”
The geezer barely slowed down enough for me to jump in the cab, and I had to hold the pizza boxes in my lap while he careened through the village, dropping off the orders. I figured his main gig was the pizza delivery job, and he moonlighted with Uber. I couldn’t imagine there being much call for transportation in Nowhere, Kansas.
I volunteered to carry the last pie up to the customer, and she tipped me a fin. I slipped the five in my pocket and told the old man, “She stiffed you, Pops,” when I got back in the truck. I figured he owed me that much, at least, for the cost of dry cleaning my suit to get rid of the pepperoni smell.
While we bounced along the road to Topeka, I opened the envelope, the one the guy handed me at the airport in Miami. Inside was a handwritten letter, a photograph, and two crisp C-notes. I unfolded the letter and read — “Dear Mr. Stark, my name is Gwen De Toit. You may recognize me from the Society pages of your local newspaper. I am also a famous novelist (with over 2,000…
