Dear Mr. Pollack,
As you probably may be able to realize, I have lost my livelihood in that God-awful fire on Thanksgiving that destroyed Moose Manor and cost poor Mr. Biron his life, bless his heart. It is indeed a shame that such horrific things should happen to such a fine gentleman, and to see his young, sweet wife Sylvia Sasso dragged away to the Arkham Sanitarium while shrieking like a banshee almost broke my heart. I am therefore turning to you, good sir, to inquire if you are in need of some experienced help in your house and shop? I am a good cook (some say excellent, even), I keep a house neat and clean, I do laundry, and I chop wood. I can also mend all items of clothing, and I am actually quite decent with both fishing rod and hunting rifle. I also have some experience in handling livestock, and poultry in particular.
I was also going to tell you about an odd thing that happened after that dreadful Thanksgiving: once we had all managed to explain all of the events to the local constabulary, I was approached by that strange Indian gentleman, George Thunderbird Ward. He was very polite, and after expressing hos condolences, asked me if I had seen a particular old book, perhaps written in French, that Mr. Biron treasured very much, and perhaps too much. Come to think of it, I noticed that he indeed carried an old book as he ran out in his pyjamas on that frightful night, but I cannot say if the book disappeared into the Chumbawamba Creek with Mr. Biron.
I do hope that you take my wee letter into consideration, and I am, yours truly.
Margaret O’Flaherty
Formerly of Moose Manor, New Hampshire.
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