Page 49 of A Thin Line

“Again, though—”

“And I don’t know much about the furniture,” I said, realizing I’d just interrupted him—but I was going to keep going until he chastised me for it. “But there are some beautiful antique wood pieces that have stood the test of time. Many of them wouldn’t look out of place if you brought them back upstairs.”

“I won’t argue with you, although I don’t think the whole lot would be worth much—but I don’t want to dampen your eagerness. By all means, add that column and, when you’re done with that project, we’ll see what the numbers say. Just remember that value is determined by the buyer, not the seller.”

As Edna brought in salads and talked to Sinclair about a repair she’d scheduled for the dishwasher, I let my mind wander. If I found something that was worth thousands or more, maybe I could talk him into applying that amount to my debt.

But I’d keep that to myself for now.

We ate in silence and, at one point, I looked up at Sinclair to find him already staring at me. There was something in his eyes that I couldn’t read, but it made me feel like prey. Quickly, I shifted my eyes to my plate but then realized I was letting him win again by doing that—so I forced myself to make eye contact again…but then he wasn’t looking at me.

Had it been my imagination? And why did I find it hard to go to sleep that night?

The next day, I wore an old t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers for work because I intended to start moving furniture to the spots I’d designated. It was bulky and heavy, and much of it was in the way of the smaller things, so I planned to move it all against the back wall, cramming it together so it took up less space. I would leave a short path between two sides but otherwise would slide it all together. And once I got all the furniture out of the way, it would be much easier to tackle everything else.

It was then that I really got to see just how much dust had accumulated down here. And, after I’d moved boxes aside to make room to slide a sofa, followed by a chair and an old-fashioned desk, I realized that this task might take most of my day, especially since I was taking time to catalog items after I moved them. I also had to rest a little between moving each item and, after some time, I was covered in dirt and perspiration.

Already, though, the space seemed to be opening up a bit.

After lunch, I kept at it until I started to move a trunk—and discovered by its weight that it was full of items—but it was also locked. One of the things I’d planned to do was catalog everything. For instance, I knew there were a few files in the filing cabinet. Although those likely wouldn’t have any value, I’d document them nonetheless. After getting the furniture moved, I’d planned to start looking up approximate resale values of them before I forgot details—but the trunk had piqued my curiosity. Right now, I felt that it belonged with furniture, but what I found inside might change my mind.

I had to know what was in there.

So I went back upstairs and found Edna chopping vegetables in the kitchen. “Are you thirsty, dear?”

“No. Not yet. I found a trunk downstairs full of something but it’s locked. I wondered if you knew where the key for it might be.”

“Well, I don’t know for certain,” she said, washing her hands at the sink, “but I do know where we have a ring of keys for different locks around the mansion. Let’s get it and you can see if any of those keys fit that trunk.”

“That would be great!”

Soon we were walking down the main hallway past the antechamber toward the east side and she turned down the rear hallway and went right into Sinclair’s office. Even though the door was open, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable entering without permission—but Edna likely had authorization to go in there. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have seemed so at ease.

She walked over to Sinclair’s desk and opened one of the drawers on the side. I couldn’t see which one from my vantage point, but I imagined it had three drawers and she was opening the middle one. After a couple of seconds, she pulled out a fairly large ring of dozens of keys. “Here we go.” Then, stepping back around the desk, she rejoined me, handing me the heavy ring. “If the key you need isn’t on there, then it might be lost. If that’s the case, I’ll call a locksmith—but let’s try this first.”

“Thank you.” As I looked over the keys, I spied several smaller ones. “I bet it’s one of these.”

“That seems logical.” When we got back to the other side of the hall, Edna turned toward the direction of the kitchen. “Just bring them back to me when you’re done.”

I nodded but didn’t move, just staring at the ring of keys in my hand. What were they all for? Did one of them go to Sinclair’s bedroom? And what other rooms were locked? I hadn’t encountered many locked rooms yet but that didn’t mean they couldn’t lock. The keys were cool to the touch; some of them were silver, some were gold, and others were black. Most were modern but a few old-fashioned keys were in the mix. So many keys, and I was just letting my imagination run wild with what each one went to, wondering if Sinclair actually knew or remembered.

“Lise?” Edna asked, coming back out of the kitchen.

I startled, blinking my eyes for a moment. “Yes?”

“After you check the keys, would you like to have a glass of iced tea with me?”

“Yes, I think I’d like that.” I headed downstairs, wondering how she’d known I’d just been standing in the hall, but realizing she was used to the sounds of the mansion. I hadn’t opened the door leading downstairs and this was one I’d learned needed to stay closed all the time because it was hiding what I was beginning to think of as a dirty little secret: Decades of junk that no one had bothered to care for. Even though I didn’t think it was junk, Sinclair had made it very clear that he did. I got the feeling he’d be perfectly happy forgetting the downstairs even existed.

As I walked down the steps, I sorted through the ring of keys again, gripping the one I thought most likely to unlock the trunk. Because I wasn’t paying attention, I stumbled on the crumbly step, almost losing my footing. I chided myself, because even though the step without the marble slab wasn’t at the top of the staircase, I would take quite a tumble if I wasn’t careful and stepped on it wrong.

Back downstairs, I strode over to the trunk. It was lovely yet simple, covered in what seemed to be black leather, adorned at the corners and trim in gold, including the hasps and lock. I inserted the key I thought was the winner, but even though it fit, it didn’t unlock it. I began sorting through the keys again, and they made clinking noises as I did. I tried another and it too didn’t make the grade. Finally, I found another one that I’d dismissed earlier as being too large—but it also fit.

And it unlocked the trunk.

I really wanted to open it up to see what was inside but, because Edna had seemed a little suspicious of me and, I had to admit, not without reason, I thought it best to head upstairs and return the keys to her right away.

I knew where they were stored. That was all that mattered.

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