The Locked Room Page 11

  She didn’t mean to drop the hand painted vase her father had on top of the bookcase in the living room, but when she took it to the kitchen to clean it, the vase slipped out of her hands and broke. Just what she needed. Frustrated, she went to the closet, got the broom and the dustpan, and then got the trash can from under the sink. She’d swept all of the glass up except the bottom which amazingly remained in one piece. Colette picked it up and was about to toss it in the trash when she felt something on the bottom. She turned it over and to her surprise, a key was taped to the bottom.

  Excited, she pulled the key off the tape, threw the bottom of the vase in the trash and then darted upstairs. She held her breath, put the key in the door of the mystery bedroom and turned until it clicked. She was in. She put the key in her pocket, turned the knob and then stopped. She’d heard of locked rooms with dead bodies inside like Artie suggested. “Too many horror movies,” she groaned. Colette opened the door and then gawked at the only item in the room – a rocking chair.

  “What?” she gasped. “This is what he didn’t want me to see? A rocking chair?” Disheartened, she leaned against the door frame and shook her head. “Why all the secrets, Jawbone? What was the point?” Just then, she noticed the open closet door and went to see what was inside. The only item there was a cellophane wrapped white dress. She carefully lifted the plastic, took the dress off the hanger and spread it out. “A wedding dress?”

  It was the most beautiful wedding dress she had ever seen with a lace train that stretched halfway across the room. She guessed it was her mother’s or maybe he bought it for her to wear someday. That would explain why he kept the door locked. “I wonder if it fits.” Excited, she took off her T-shirt and blue jeans, and then carefully stepped into the dress.

  It was indeed a beautiful dress with long, delicate lace sleeves, wide satin laces up the back and a silky, long flowing skirt that continued into the train. Furthermore, although it was a bit short, it fit perfectly. He must have bought it for her. As quickly as she put it on, Colette took the dress off and draped it over the chair. She got dressed, and stared at both the dress and the rocking chair for a moment, until her fastidious tendencies dictated that she put the dress back exactly as she found it.

  Half disappointed and half encouraged by the idea that he bought her a wedding dress, she looked to see if she’d missed anything in the closet. She hadn’t. “No dead body,” she said as she pulled the door closed, “just a dead and gone forever past.”

  Colette returned to the kitchen, finished cleaning up the broken glass and put everything back where she found it. Deflated, she gave up preparing for the yard sale and went to sit on the sofa. One mystery solved, but a rocking chair and a wedding dress didn’t tell her anything at all about her mother. She would never know and she had to face facts. Not knowing was now a reality, her reality, and she might as well get used to it – as best she could.

  SHE WAS HAPPY TO SEE him when Ben and Sylvester came to keep her company. Without saying a word, she took Ben’s hand, practically pulled him upstairs and then opened the door to the mystery room. Just as she had, he stared at the rocking chair.

  “This is what he didn’t want me to see?” Colette asked.

  “The man was out of his mind. There had to be more, but just like all the food, he got rid of everything in here too.”

  “I don’t get it either.”

  When the doorbell rang, she hurried downstairs to answer it. She noticed the painters were watching, but she ignored them. Three neighborhood women, including Ben’s mother, brought food as was traditional in small towns after a funeral. Colette was more than grateful and politely thanked them before they left. At least she would eat for a while. Next, Emma Rose dropped off a cake.

  “I can’t stay. I have an order to fill before morning.” She hugged Colette, and then dashed back to her car. “The house looks great,” she shouted.

  After she was gone, Colette put the food away and then plopped down on the sofa next to Ben. “I still don’t get it. A rocking chair?”

  “It must have meant something to him. Maybe when your mother split, she took everything but that. Maybe he was so hurt he didn’t want to talk about it,” said Ben as he watched Sylvester curl up on the floor near his feet. He reached down and rubbed the dog behind the ears.

  “Maybe so, but why not just tell me she split. Nope, I think it must have been something worse.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like maybe he killed her.”

  Ben snickered, “Not Dave, he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

  “Says you?”

  “Says me. He never once hurt you, did he?”

  “No, that’s true,” she admitted. “He only spanked me once that I remember and that was for stealing.”

  “Men who hurt women don’t stop even when it comes to their daughters.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can read. People have patterns in life they can’t always change without help. Abuse is one of those patterns.”

  “You’re right, he was strict, overbearing and impossible sometimes, but he was never abusive. According to everyone at the funeral, he was a saint.”

  Ben got up, grabbed two plates, forks and a knife out of the kitchen and then headed for the chocolate cake Emma Rose left on the dining room table. “Even a saint can lock a rocking chair in a bedroom if he wants to,” he said while he cut the cake and then put a slice on the first plate.

  Ben would probably eat the whole thing if she let him, so she got up and took the cake into the kitchen.

  “Best baker in town,” he muttered, stuffing yet another bite in his mouth.

  “That’s what I heard,” Colette said when she came back.

  “From who?”

  “Emma Rose.”

  Ben laughed. “Nothing shy about her. When she knows a thing, she tells it.”

  “Indeed she does. Yesterday, she asked for her old job back. Neither of us have any money, but if we can raise enough at a yard sale to buy the ingredients, we might be able to get the restaurant going again.”

  “Really? How much do you need?”

  “Ben, I’m only nineteen. How should I know?”

  “I keep forgetting you’re just a little kid. You act older.”

  “Only because I have to. I should be swimming every day and riding horses. Instead, here I am...”

  “Burying your father. Go on, you can say it. You haven’t even cried, and that’s not good. You used to cry all the time.”

  “How can I cry? I don’t even know who my father was. There were people there today I never saw before. Who were they and who was that old woman?”

  Ben finished his slice of cake, set the plate down and then went back to sit on the sofa. “Beats me. She didn’t take her eyes off you the whole time.”

  “I know, she creeped me out.”

  “I frisked her before you got there. She wasn’t armed.”

  Colette couldn’t help herself and started to laugh and then intentionally sat on the other end of the soft where she wouldn’t be tempted to touch him. “I’m sorry I missed that. By the way, you looked very nice in your uniform.”

  “Very nice? Is that the best you can come up with? Admit it, I am the most handsome man living across the street you’ve ever seen.”

  “Besides your father.”

  “Oh yeah, him.”

  Her smile slowly faded. “You think your father remembers my mother?”

  “Honestly, Colette, I’ve never heard anyone mention your mother or anything about her. Are you sure you really want to know? Maybe...”

  She widened her eyes. “I bet that’s why I have all those horrible nightmares.”

  He was serious when he asked, “Do you?”

  “No, I’m just kidding. The only nightmare I ever had was when the handsome boy across the street turned out to be evil and tried to get me.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Be advised, Miss Other, I’m the good guy not the bad guy.�
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  “I’ll try to remember that.”

  TIRED OF BEING IN THE house, Colette and Ben went to his house across the street, and sat on the steps where they could watch the painters mask off the side windows.

  “The front looks so much better,” said she.

  “Yes, but it seems to be taking them a long time.”

  “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m just glad I don’t have to paint it.”

  As yet another unfamiliar man in a car drove past, turned the corner and went out of sight, Ben asked, “You ever see this many strangers on this street at one time?”

  She was watching the cars pass by too. “I know, and it’s not even hunting season.”

  He pointed up the street. “See that guy? He’s just sitting in his car and has been for the last hour or so.”

  “I wonder why?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “Well, maybe he’s just waiting for someone.”

  “Like who?” Ben asked.

  “Search me. He’s probably just lost.”

  “Well, it’s kind of spooky if you ask me. I think I should tell the sheriff.”

  “He’s not breaking any laws.” Just then, Colette’s cell phone rang. “I sure would like to know how everyone got my number.” At the same time Ben said it, she answered her own question too, “Emma Rose.”

  Annoyed, she put the phone up to her ear, “What?”

  “Don’t yell at me, Colette Bouchard.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Bonnie, I work at the bank now.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t recognize your voice.”

  “Colette, I was wondering why you haven’t come down to the bank yet?”

  “What for?”

  “To open a checking account.”

  “With what?”

  “Oh dear, I guess he didn’t tell you. Your father opened up a savings account in your name years ago.”

  “Really? Tell me, is there enough in it to pay for painting the house and splurging on a meal or two?”

  “I can’t answer that over the phone. Why don’t you come down and see for yourself? Meanwhile, I’ll set up a bank card and a checking account, with your permission, of course.”

  “Of course you have my permission. I have a total of eight dollars to my name. I’ll be right there.” Colette ended the call, sighed, and lifted her eyes to heaven. “Guess you didn’t completely desert me after all.”

  “What’s up?” Ben asked.

  “Dad set up a savings account for me. Can you believe it?”

  “One more thing he didn’t tell you about. Want me to come with you?”

  “Thanks, but I can handle good news all by myself.”

  Before she could walk away, he took her hand. “I meant what I said. When I go back, I want you to go with me.”

  “And do what? Oh never mind, we can talk about that later.” She practically ran across the street, went in the house to get her purse and keys, and hurried back out. She hopped in her truck and drove away.

  Ben watched as the man sitting in the car up the street started his engine and followed her. Across the street, the painters abruptly stopped working and hurried to their car. They too followed Colette into town.

  “What is going on?” Ben muttered. Every fiber of his being told him to go to the bank, but both his mom and dad were gone, leaving him with no transportation. He pulled out his cellphone, realized he didn’t have Colette’s number and instead called Artie.

  “Hello.”

  “Something is wrong,” Ben blurted out.

  “What?”

  “I can’t be sure but I think Colette is being followed and I don’t have a car.”

  “Followed where?” Artie asked.

  “To the bank.”

  “Got it, I’m on my way.”

  “As soon as he hung up, Ben called the sheriff.”

  IT WAS A SMALL BANK where nearly everyone had accounts, but it wasn’t usually busy at that time of day. When Colette walked in, Bonnie was standing in front of the floor to ceiling window watching the two cars pull into the parking lot. One car with a woman in it, pulled into a space and then pulled back out and left. The man in the other car didn’t get out, but she thought nothing of it. Two men she didn’t recognize slowed as though they were going to turn in, but changed their minds and went past instead.

  “Bonnie?”

  She quickly turned around and smiled, “Colette, you look great. Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I was sorry to hear about Dave and sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral.”

  “That’s okay, a lot of people showed up.”

  “That’s what I heard. Sit down and I’ll show you the balance in your account.” Bonnie pulled a piece of paper out of her top desk drawer, turned it around and laid it in front of Colette. Just as she expected, Colette’s jaw dropped. Next, she laid a small square notepad in front of her client and then added a pen. “I opened a checking account and if you’ll write down how much, I’ll transfer that amount from your savings to your checking.”

  Bonnie waited, but the woman sitting on the other side of the desk was still staring at the amount of money in her savings account. “Colette?”

  “Uh huh?” she managed to mutter.

  “You should write it instead of saying the amount out loud.” Bonnie pushed the post it closer.

  “I don’t know...how much.”

  Bonnie wrote an amount on the pad and then turned it around so Colette could read it. “I suggest this much. That should pay for the painters and buy a couple of meals.”

  “Are you kidding? I could buy.... Where did he get this much money?”

  “From the restaurant. He made a deposit nearly every day on his way home. Oh he put some in his account too, but I suspect most of it went into yours.” She looked up in time to watch Artie walk in the door. “I’ll be right with you.”

  Artie nodded and then went to a standup counter and pretended to fill out a deposit slip. When Ben called, he whispered, “No problem here. Must be a coincidence.” Just as quietly, Artie hung up. He stuffed the deposit slip down the trash slot in the table and left the bank.

  Colette finally pulled herself together and nodded toward Artie. “Does he do that often?”

  “No. Do you agree with the amount?” Bonnie asked. She was getting a little impatient. Although the man in the parking lot still hadn’t come inside, she was worried she might not be able to give him her full attention when he did. Finally, Colette nodded, Bonnie made the transfer, had Colette sign for a bank card and gave her a temporary checkbook. “It takes about five days for the debit card to be mailed to you. If you have any problems or need more checks, just drop by and I’ll give you another book. Will the standard issue checks be okay? They’re sort of plain.”

  “Sure, whatever you think.”

  “Good, I’ll order checks for you too.”

  When Colette put everything in her purse, she noticed her father’s keys and pulled them out. “Any idea what these might go to?”

  Bonnie pointed to one specific key. That one goes to a safety deposit box, probably Dave’s.”

  “May I see what’s in it?”

  “Not without a court order.”

  “Oh. I was hoping to sell the house and the restaurant, but I can’t find Dad’s will. It’s probably in there.”

  “Probably so. You’ll need the death certificate, but the judge at the courthouse can do a court order for you.”

  “Will I need a lawyer?”

  Bonnie walked her to the door. “Maybe. Call the courthouse and ask for Anna. She’ll tell you how to do it.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Bonnie.” Colette was a little unsteady on her feet when she walked out, but there was no mistaking the grin on her face – a grin witnessed by the stranger in the parking lot. She was amazed to know her father thought of her welfare everyday of her life, and left enough money to feed her for a lifetime – maybe longer.
When she unlocked the truck and got in, she remembered to breathe. Colette considered going to the dealership down the street and trading her truck in for a new car, but she didn’t know what she wanted.

  Instead, she headed home to contemplate what to do with her newfound wealth. She stopped at the store, remembered she had at least a couple of good meals at home and only bought drinks for herself and the painters. Waste not, want not, Dave always said.

  COLETTE ARRIVED AT home to find the painters still hard at work, so she walked to the side of the house and held up the two six-packs of root beer, “Ready for something cold to drink?”

  “You bet,” Steven answered. They both set their masking tape down, followed her to the front and when she set one of the six-packs on the grass, Steven pulled a can out for himself and another for Oliver. Both men gladly sat down on the grass.

  “Join us?” Oliver asked.

  “Sure,” Colette answered. “Just let me put these in the fridge. She hurried inside, and came back out with a can for herself. She sat, pulled the tab out of the can and slurped up the excess when it began to overflow. “It’s getting hot out here, are you sure you wouldn’t rather come back early in the morning?”

  “We’re good,” Steven answered.

  She noticed them looking at the mountain and said, “Know why they named it Mt. Lankton?” When both shook their heads, she said in a spooky voice, “Because Mr. Lankton is buried up there. We used to climb it all the time, but we never did find the grave everyone swears is there. Not even a cross. Then one day a scary shadow crossed over us, even though there was nothing in the sky that could have caused it.” Both men were smiling as if they didn’t believe her. “I swear it’s true. We haven’t been up there since. I’d go, but I grew up among cowards.”

  She abruptly wrinkled her brow, looked from one to the other and then back again, “Are you brothers?”

  “Why do you think that?” Oliver asked.

  “I don’t know; you look a little alike.”

  Oliver gasped. “I look like him? No way, I’m not that ugly.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Steven shot back.