"Thank you, Nurse. I do so enjoy getting my mail," Miss Appleby crooned as she picked up the envelopes from the counter.

"Mail!" Henry's voice cackled from behind Miss Appleby, "She probably wrote them herself." The same every few days. Several blue letters and junk mail.

"I'll have you know, Henry Crombie, my students still write to me. They don't forget those who taught them," Miss Abigail Appleby scowled. "At least I get mail, unlike others, I won't mention!"

"Now, now, Abigail. You know that's not nice," Nurse put in calmly as Henry's face darkened with rage.

"Every day he says unkind things to me and I don't see you championing my side." Nurse turned her back to the desk, not bothering to answer. Abigail stuffed the envelopes into a satchel attached to the walker, beginning the slow trot down
the hall.

Abigail hadn't noticed the one darker blue envelope fluttering to the floor. Neither did the nurse. But Henry did. He darted a look around the room ... no one else noticed either. Henry grinned.

Now, he thought, balancing himself against his cane and bending over, I'll find out about our prissy Miss Appleby and the massive amount of mail the silly old-maid receives.

"Did you need something, Henry?" Nurse asked as she turned back to the desk.

Henry had just barely risen and stuffed the blue envelope into his pocket. He eyed her cautiously. No, she hadn't seen anything. Henry shook his head.

"Your color doesn't look good, Henry. Let nursie help you back to your room and we'll get you settled for a nice little nappie."

Henry wanted to slap that condescending smile off her face. Henry wasn't one to take guff off anyone. Especially a useless idiot like Nursie.

Nursie! Fer cryin' out loud, he thought, I'm only seventy! He wasn't senile, just crippled. But cooped up in this place could alter that rapidly, which Henry was well aware of, having seen two friends do exactly that. His eyes narrowed as they made their way down the hall. Silly twit. Silly excuse for a nursing home.

Back in his room, Henry managed to bully Nurse out the door and settled into his favorite chair. Pulling the envelope out of his pocket, Henry had a smidgeon of guilt rise at reading someone else's mail. Scowling, he thrust the thought aside and carefully pried open the envelope with the help of steam from a small electric tea kettle.

Henry darned near fainted once he read the contents of the letter. Whoever they were, someone slipped up putting this much information into one letter! A surge of youthful exhuberance invaded him ... just like the old days when he'd worked for Army Intelligence in Korea before becoming a cop. He had work to do.

*****

What else did the old bat want? He'd apologized, been kind to her these past four days since reading the letter. He tried flowers. No luck. She'd managed a `thank you' but nothing more. He offered her candy. She politely informed him she was diabetic. His frustration was getting intense.

He had to get into her room to read those letters. He'd spied on her long enough to see her sort the letters, write something down in a little book, then tuck the unopened blue ones neatly into a shoe box.

The weekend gave Henry his chance. He knew her schedule by heart. It was getting close to the time when that sleazy, oily nephew of hers, Paul Appleby, would arrive and take the box. That boy oozed trouble.

One letter wasn't enough. That nephew was involved, but Henry had a hunch he wasn't smart enough to be behind all this. Only stupid enough to sell out his country. And Henry's gut instincts had earned him several medals during his forty years on the force.

There was a commotion in the hallway. "Ah ha!" He whispered gleefully, peeking out the door. Her great-niece had arrived. They'd be going out for a drive soon. Every other Sunday, regular as clockwork. He should have remembered that.

It was half an hour before Henry could make his way undetected across the hall.

They were all there. Two weeks of blue envelopes, minus the one Henry had in his pocket. Tomorrow was a holiday. No mail delivery. He'd have time, surely, to take the letters back to his own room, steam them open and replace them.

*****

"Henry, look. I'm really swamped right now. I've got feds crowding me."

"Cap, this is important. I've solved that very case."

An eerie silence on the other end. "What case, Henry?"

"Why, this thing you're working on right now, Cap. I know all about it. If you want to know how it's being done, come talk to me." Henry promptly hung up the phone. He checked his watch.

Twenty minutes later, four men marched into Henry's room. He only knew the Captain. The other three had to be feds. They were mirror images of each other, down to the suits.

"How nice of you to drop by, Cap," Henry smiled.

"Cut the crap, Henry, don't play games. What have you got?"

"Those secrets are being passed by an old lady right here in this charming rest home the city so kindly jailed me in two years ago."

"Little old lady?" One of the suits snorted.

"Little blue envelopes. These right here, as a matter of fact," Henry pulled out the stack.

"Old news, Crombie. We had a court order and opened some. Just a former student writing to an old teacher. Once a month. Besides, we can't use `em if you stole them."

"Oh, no. Almost daily, boys. And not from the same guy. I've got the kicker, boys. The code." Henry produced the dark blue envelope from his pocket. "I'll lay odds and be a rich old geezer, that you've never seen these dark blue ones. I'm a private citizen now, so the evidence is righteous. Just be sure you get me a good deal with the DA for my theft." The grin spread across his face as four sets of hands shot out.

*****

Two months later, Henry was calmly puffing on his unlit pipe as he read the account in the paper. The papers couldn't tell the whole story of the network of spies scattered around the country. Each sent their coded messages through an unwitting Miss Appleby to that scum nephew.

Those darker blue ones, from sources the Feds hadn't discovered, contained instructions for upcoming missions. As well as the code to put the pale blue messages together. The Feds had never checked Miss Appleby's other mail. Slipshod. Not like when Henry was on the force.

Poor Miss Appleby. She only got junk mail now. Henry hated to see her so sad. He limped over to the desk. Pulling out paper and pen, he began to write.

Dear Miss Appleby ...