And the story went on to tell of the now famous Brinks holdup in
that city; a holdup that had not been solved to this day; a seemingly
perfect crime.
Still nothing for me to get excited about. Not until I saw the letter
that had been lying under the paper. It was addressed to both Donovan
and me--the names and destination printed in lead pencil. There was no
return address. I tore it open. A white card fell out. On the card was
printed two words--nothing else. The words read:
--OR BOSTON.
* * * * *
So that's where we sit now. Almost seven years ago that stickup
occurred. For seven years Donovan and I had waited for the law to
crack it so we could quit wondering; so we could tell ourselves that
Dalrymple was just another screwball.
But the statute of limitations nearly ran out on the great Brinks
robbery and now we're beginning to wonder if it really was solved.
Wondering if we could have stopped it by stopping Dalrymple, the brain
behind it all.
Wondering if he really was a man from another--oh hell! It just
couldn't be!
Or could it?