The D.A. Breaks an Egg

Daphne darling:

This letter will probably come as a great surprise to you.

I’m married, and, believe it or not, I’ve married a rich man! I am now Mrs. Alfonse Baker Carr. How does that sound to you, dear?

I know that we always used to talk about what we would do if we could ever manage to marry some rich man, but I can tell you, Daphne, that never has there been anything in our wildest dreams which could even approximate the facts connected with my marriage. Facts which I’m not at liberty to even discuss — at least in a letter.

My husband is one of the leading criminal attorneys in Southern California. I understand his clients refer to him as “Old A. B. C,” and whenever there is talk about getting caught or, as they call it in crook jargon, “beating the rap,” someone will show that he is wise to the ropes by smiling and saying, “It’s just as simple as A. B. C.”

My husband is tall and handsome, with clean-cut, regular features, high cheekbones, a square jaw, flowing wavy hair that has turned partially white. He wears sideburns, and looks very much like a banker, or a senator, or perhaps it would be better to say some very distinguished actor or diplomat. He is always exceedingly polite and considerate, but I don’t think he is in the least in love with me. Yet he has taken me into his palatial home here in Madison City, and the way he treats me, you’d think he married me for love. He treats me like a lady!

Perhaps I should explain that “palatial” home. My husband is trying to retire, but his clients won’t let him. He no longer handles the ordinary run-of-the-mill practice, but only takes cases which appeal to him, or because of former attachments with some client, or something of that sort. I think he has all the money he wants and I don’t think money means anything to him any more, or ever did mean a lot.

He married me because of certain things that I can’t discuss, only they weren’t what you’re probably thinking. I had thought that perhaps he would see that it was made just a legal marriage and let it go at that. However, I think he’s afraid that I might get a divorce, and if that happened there might be legal complications. So apparently he is determined that I shall have no cause for divorce, and having decided that he’s stuck with me for three years, he’s going to make the best of it.

Now that doesn’t really explain things either. It’s one of the most peculiar situations you ever heard of. It would make a movie look tame by comparison. However, darling, I want you to know that I am married and that my address is here in Madison City, and your letters should be rather circumspect because... well, because...

I’m sorry that I can’t invite you to visit us, not just yet anyway; but you know how it is. However, if you’re ever passing through Madison City, or even if you’re in Los Angeles, let me know where you are and I’ll try and visit you somewhere and we’ll talk over old times a little.

This certainly is a strange world!

And if you’re ever in real serious trouble remember that — “It’s just as simple as A. B. C.”

Lovingly yours,

BABE