Page 29 of Your Every Wish
The whole trip is a bust. Besides the watch, ring, and glassware, there’s nothing of value here. And I don’t know any more about Willy than I did before he died.
I turn around and return to the house.
“Where are you going?” Emma calls to my back.
“To look for something.”
A few minutes later, she finds me in Willy’s closet. I’ve dragged one of the dining room chairs in and am searching the top shelves.
“What are you looking for?”
“A briefcase or something the key might fit.”
“The key? You mean the one we found in the envelope.”
“Yep. ”
I toss down a couple of hatboxes, which I’m surprised the FBI agents missed. “Go through these.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh but dutifully starts sorting through the boxes. “It would help if I knew what I was looking for.”
“Piles of cash would be good.” Fat chance of that. “Something small. A strong box, a file case, a cosmetic bag.”
“A cosmetic bag? Since when do those come with locks?”
“Give me a break, Emma. I’m improvising here. While you’re down there, look for luggage, too.” We haven’t culled through the guest room closets yet. I make a mental note to do that next.
I sneeze from all the dust. “Jeez, no one ever cleaned up here. ”
I toss down a couple of empty boxes. It couldn’t hurt to get a second pair of eyes on them in case I missed something.
I sort through a stack of golf caps. Pebble Beach, Augusta, Sand Hill, Crystal Downs, and a bunch of other courses I’ve never heard of.
I leave those on the shelf and work my way down.
Tucked way in the corner, I feel something metal, but it’s too far back for me to get any purchase to pry it loose. It seems to be stuck to the shelf. “Emma, hand me a hanger. One of those beefy wooden ones.”
She reaches up on her tiptoes with the hanger. It gives me just enough length to wrench the object free and pull it toward me.
“What is it?”
“Some kind of a box.” My heart races. “It’s heavy.”
I manage to get one arm around it and use my other hand to climb down. I take it into the bedroom because as big as the closet is, it was starting to get claustrophobic.
“Do we need the key?” Emma is right behind me.
I study the outside of the container, which appears to be an old junction box, searching for a keyhole.
Emma simply lifts the hinged lid and laughs. “There you go.”
We both peer inside to find reams of newspaper clippings, a few black-and-white photos that look like they’re from the 1930s or ’40s judging by the people’s clothes, a handful of poker chips, and a Xerox copy of a thousand-dollar bill.
“Do they even print thousand-dollar bills?” Because knowing Willy it’s counterfeit.
“Not anymore but they used to,” Emma says. “One of my readers had one and wanted to know what it was worth, so I did a little research.”
“This one isn’t worth anything. Isn’t it just like Willy to leave us a copy of money instead of the real thing.”
Emma begins sifting through the newspaper clippings while I check out the first guest room. Like the primary, the room has been raided—the mattress tossed, dresser drawers opened, crap all over the floor. One look and I can see there’s nothing worth salvaging.
The closet is also a walk-in, but this one is nearly empty.
A set of open luggage is scattered across the floor, the linings of the suitcases slit open.
I race into the kitchen where I’ve left my purse, fish out the tiny key, and race back to the guest room closet to test it.
The key doesn’t fit any of the suitcases’ locks.
Good. Because whatever was in them is now gone.
The next room is much the same as its twin. The only thing stored in the closet is a cordless vacuum and a tennis racket.
What are we missing?
Emma finds me, her eyes filled with tears.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s just sad. He saved all these stories written about himself, even the local story about him being indicted.”
“What’s so sad about the man being an egomaniac?”
“It just seems so pitiful, so lonely.”
I shake my head. “Why are you wasting any sentiment for a man who didn’t so much as give you the time of day? He was your father, for God’s sake, and he abandoned you. He abandoned us. I’m calling Misty.”
“What for?” Emma sniffles.
“To see if we missed anything. To see if she can pinpoint what the key goes to.”
“Would you stop with the key already? It’s obvious Willy saved stuff.
The newspaper articles, the poker chips, the pictures.
He liked mementos. The key is probably a souvenir from something.
A trinket he won in a poker game. Or maybe it was the key to his high school locker.
My point is you’re putting way too much stock in it. ”
She’s probably right but my gut is telling me that it’s significant. The answer to a question we don’t even realize yet. There’s a reason Misty, the so-called soothsayer, deemed it important enough to mention.
“I’m calling her anyway.”
“Suit yourself,” Emma says. “But hurry up. I’m starved and this place is starting to depress me.”
In the kitchen, I find my phone and dial her number. She answers before it even rings. “Did you foretell me calling?”
“Who is this?”
I can’t tell if she’s joking. “It’s Kennedy. I’m with Emma and we’re at Willy’s house. We’re hunting for whatever the key goes to. Do you have a better idea now of what we should be looking for?”
A long silence ensues.
“Misty?”
“Give me a minute.” There’s a long pause and she finally says, “There’s nothing there. The men in jackets took it all away. ”
“The FBI?”
“One of those agencies. But nothing involving the key.”
“Is there anything left that we should search for?”
“Like what?” she asks.
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“Well, you’ll have to be more concrete, dear.”
Whatever. She is clearly in a mood. “Okay. Thanks.” For nothing. I start to hang up.
“Wait,” she says. “Did you find the golf bag?”
My pulse picks up. “Not yet.” Unless it’s stashed in a nook or cranny that we haven’t searched yet, it isn’t here. “Do you have any idea where it might be?”
“In the stacks. Look there. I’m late for a meeting. The Halloween potluck is only a few weeks away and we don’t have the music lined up yet. Gotta go.”
She clicks off before I can ask her to explain. The stacks? What in hell’s tarnation is that?