She paused, then opened the utility drawer. Rummaging around, she felt the quick ignition of frustration.
“Where would she keep a key?”
“What?”
Val found a package of chocolate-chip cookies in a cabinet. She held it under her arm, returned to Cam, and handed her a mug.
“I’m just trying to figure out where my mom would have kept an extra set of keys. It’d make sense that she’d keep them in the kitchen utility drawer. But then again, my mom wasn’t used to doing things the ordinary way.”
She opened the cookies and offered one to Cam.
“You could call a locksmith and have the door locks changed,” Cam said as she bit into the cookie. “And I’m sure an auto dealer would get you a new car key.”
“Yeah, I’d better do that tomorrow.” Val chewed on a cookie. “It just bothers me that I can’t figure out what they want.”
“Did your mom ever say anything about people breaking into her home? Had this happened to her before?”
“No. She never mentioned anything about that.”
Cam nodded. “Did she have expensive jewelry? Or something else of value?”
“No. She wasn’t a flashy person.”
Drinking a sip of her coffee, Cam focused on something across the room, maybe a speck on the wall or something, and Val watched her. It seemed so strange that they barely knew each other in high school, and, if they were still there, she probably wouldn’t even be hanging out with her. Granted, they were older now and, Val liked to think, possibly more mature.
And where Cam had said Donna changed for the worse, Val liked to think that Cam had accomplished quite the opposite. She’d endured a rough childhood, and while it had to have been really difficult, she eventually became an adult and even started her own business.
“When we were talking before, you said you couldn’t leave Hemlock. Why was that?”
Val waited during Cam’s silence, not knowing if the truth was bad news or just too private.
“I had two reasons, actually.” Cam fidgeted a little. “I was arrested.”
“For what?”
“Vandalism.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say that one night some cement blocks came in contact with six windows at the high school.”
“When was this?”
“I was nineteen. It was all really stupid. I sat in jail for three months. And as you can probably imagine, when I got out, the town was even more accepting of me than before.”
“What was the other reason?”
“I had to stay until I paid for the damage. I was living on my own, so it was pretty hard and took three years. By the time I paid it all off, I just didn’t have any motivation to leave. People knew me, which was bad, but then again, they knew me, which helped. A little. Plus I had no car and no plans. College was never a possibility, so I just stayed and worked wherever I could.”
Cam lifted the mug of coffee to her lips. “But you got out.”
“I did.”
“Dallas, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Do you miss the ocean?”
Val smiled. “I really do. Mostly the cool, salty air and the smell of pines.”
“And growing up here? How was that?”
“Normal, I guess. My mom had been single since my dad left. That was when I was two.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No. Have no idea where he is. Mom had a lot of boyfriends, though. I didn’t like any of them. I was in the way. And Mom usually chose them over me. I guess I can’t blame her because at least what little money they made paid for their beer. She had a crappy job. Anyway, about five years ago, she kicked the last one out for good. She got by on social security, though it wasn’t much. I’d send her money when I could, just a little, though. That’s why I can’t understand what the heck people could want from her. Everybody knows she wasn’t rich.”
Cam nodded. “I knew your mom was a nice lady. Beyond that, I knew she wasn’t rich, but then again, few people in this town are.” Cam pulled out another cookie from the bag and bit into it. “Mmm, this cookie’s great. You’re a fantastic baker.”
“Why, thank you. I also package them myself.”
“I should consider hiring you at the shop.”
Val froze as a distant memory suddenly snapped into her mind.
“That’s it!” She jumped up so fast, Cam almost spilled her coffee in surprise. “Ow ow ow,” she said, her ribs stinging.
“Do you need a job that badly?”
“No.” She pointed to the photo album, still opened to a picture of her mother and her posing as if they were chefs. “My mom wasn’t a baker!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come here,” Val said as she headed for the kitchen.
Cam followed her and watched as Val opened the tall cabinet door next to the refrigerator, pulling out a large glass container.
“She wasn’t a baker. She hated the science of it. Too complicated, she said.”
“Yeah, I get it. She preferred store-bought cookies.”
“No, that’s not it.” Val carried the container back out to the dining room.
Placing it on the table, she said, “This is flour. But she didn’t bake.”
“Okay…”
“So why did she have so much flour?” Val picked up the container. “I’ll show you.”
She turned the jar sideways and thrust it out over the table. The flour came flying out, dumping a mini mountain onto the tabletop.
“What are you doing?”
Flour went everywhere, skidding across the table and out over the edges like clouds escaping over an ocean cliff.
Val put the container down and dug her hands into the mess. She fished around and suddenly pulled her hands out. They were caked in white powder, but one held a key.
“Shit!” Cam almost laughed, her face brightened in apparent amusement.
“She hid things in the flour. That was the only reason she had it. She said no burglar would ever look for valuables in the kitchen, let alone in a jar of flour.”
“I need to remember that trick,” Cam said, and held out her hand.
Val dropped the key into it. “If this is what they’re looking for, it makes sense that they took my other keys.”
“The only problem,” Cam said, examining the key, “is this doesn’t look like it goes to a car or a house.”
She held it up. Cam was right; it was too small for either.
“Well, what the heck does it unlock?”
“Good damn question. But it’s obviously important in some way. Otherwise she wouldn’t have hidden it.”
“Let me see it,” Val said. “It’s a Master key. Here.” She pointed to the logo stamped into the nickel silver.
“Could it be to a shed? Or some lock box in the garage?”
“No shed and no locked boxes. I’ve been through every square inch of this place. This doesn’t go to anything here.”
As Val brushed a strand of hair from her face, Cam reached up and brushed some flour off her cheek.
“You were pretty forceful spilling out that jar.”
Her touch surprised Val, and her hopes jumped around inside her. Cam looked at her, and Val thought she saw a spark of interest. Her eyes were bright and her smile seemed playful.
“What can I say, I was caught up in the moment.”
“So what do you think the key goes to?”
The moment drifted away, but Val stayed with it until Cam spoke again.
“What about a bank safe-deposit box?”
“No, I have…had that. It was on the keychain. And those are long and have special numbers.” She held up the key. “This is your average garden-variety—”
Val stopped mid-sentence. A thought was forming and she frowned, forcing it to come forward. And when it did, she said, “Oh, shit. That’s it!”
She walked back to the coffee table and picked up one of the p
hoto albums. Opening it, she found what she was looking for and turned it around for Cam to see.
Cam leaned in. “This was the play your mom was in last year. The Girls of the Garden Club.”
“And this is your average garden-variety key.”
“I don’t get it.”
Val stood. “You will. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Chapter Eleven
The Hemlock Community Theater was located toward the southern part of town. Its exterior walls, with no windows, wore patches of paint that probably used to be dark green but now appeared more as if lichen had attached itself in spotty places to the red bricks. The theater’s marquee poked out just far enough that passersby on Coast Highway might be tempted to stop; however, it looked like two of the three inner bulbs had burned out long ago, leaving the translucent plastic and black Helvetica letters looking a little dull.
Cam and Val pulled up to the curb about fifty feet away because the ten-car parking lot was full, as were most of the overflow spots up and down the highway.
Val checked her watch. “The play should be over soon.”
“How are you feeling?” Cam asked.
“Better today. The Vicodin is helping. I can walk without wincing, and I found out that my head is thicker than I thought.”
“Is that something I should worry about?”
“My injury or my stubbornness?”
“Both.”
“Naw. I’m fairly harmless.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Val liked Cam’s kidding around. It was a little flirtatious and encouraging.
She reached for her door latch. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
The box-office window was unmanned so they went inside.
A musty smell greeted Val as they walked in, and while it might turn off some, the sensation that hit Val’s nose spoke of happy times filled with costumes, food, old carpet, and smoke. The floors creaked like little tattletales as they walked toward a set of double doors.
Projected voices and scattered laughter greeted them as they slowly opened the doors and tiptoed in. They found a place just inside and below the tech booth to stand.
The play looked delightful as the amateur actors cavorted about, some overemphasizing their lines of dialogue and others laying on the body language.
A big, burly man in jeans and a tight T-shirt stood off to the side, and Val motioned for Cam to take notice. When he turned and saw them, his ensuing effeminate walk toward them was significantly juxtaposed to his brawny, masculine style.
“It’s almost over, ladies,” he whispered. “The next showing will be tomorrow night.”
“I’m Val Montague.”
The man’s eyes brightened and he immediately hugged her.
“My Lord! You’re Val!” He was still whispering. “Your mother talked about you constantly! She was so proud of you down there in Dallas. I’m Phil Drago. I own the place. Oh, I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
At once, it seemed like a sharp pain passed across his face because his cheeks tightened and his eyebrows crinkled.
“I’m so sorry about your mother. We all miss her terribly. Kris was a fantastic woman, and it was so sudden. One day she was here just working away, and the next…” Only a flick of his hand indicated that he had finished his sentence.
Val stepped back and said, “This is Cam Nelson.”
“I know who you are. You’re supposed to be a renegade, but all I know is your turtles are so heavenly, you just can’t be all that folks say.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“Oh, I’m an old queen, honey, and I never mince words. You’re not the only one whose picture is listed in the town dictionary under pariah.” He leaned toward her as if telling a secret. “Admittedly, yours and mine are the only pictures, but at least we’re in print.”
Cam smiled. “It’s very nice to meet a fellow scoundrel.”
“Flattery will get you anywhere.” He chuckled. “So how long are you here, Val? Will you come see the play? Please do. Your mother was the prop master. Did you know that?”
“Yes, I did. I know you’re in the middle of a run, but I was hoping that after the play I could look at the props. I won’t take anything. It’s just that some of them were my mother’s, and I wanted to see if there was anything I needed after the play ends.”
“That was your mother all right! Most of the props are hers! Our budgets are so low we can’t afford to buy anything.” He laughed as quietly as he could. “She was so generous. She would have brought half her house over here if we had the room.
“Of course you may look through anything you see. When everyone has cleared out of the auditorium, please go in. I’ll be in the box office counting receipts. Just let me know when you’re leaving.”
“Do come and see the play,” he said as he hugged her again. “Lord, I miss Kris so.”
“I will.”
*
The audience began clapping, signaling that the play had ended. The actors coming out from backstage joined the ones onstage, and they all took a bow together. Val guessed the theater held forty or fifty people, so it didn’t take long for the crowd to file out of their rows of wooden seats.
A few stragglers chatted with the actors, but the stage was empty so Val and Cam took the few steps leading up from the audience area.
This had been where Mom found so much enjoyment, Val thought. The theater and the church had pretty much made up her life. As she looked around, she recognized many of the pieces of set dressing.
The picture that hung on the right side set wall was very familiar. She’d stared at it a million times, wishing that just one of those horses depicted running wild on a mountaintop would somehow break free and come find her so it could live in her backyard.
Val touched Cam’s arm. “That used to hang in my room. I got it when I was twelve.”
“Girls and their horses.”
“I know, right?”
“I wanted one after I saw Tatum O’Neal in International Velvet,” Cam said.
“You did?”
“Well, maybe it was more about Tatum, but I did want a horse, too.”
Val pushed Cam’s shoulder, which made her sidestep away toward a bookcase.
“I can’t believe Mom kept it.”
Val saw Cam smile as they searched the set. She wondered what thoughts were behind the expression as Cam turned to pick up books, flipping through a few. She wanted to ask her, but a niggling of distrust still wormed around in her stomach, feeling a bit discomforting.
At a side table next to the couch at center stage, she studied a plant that sat on a short, doily-covered stand of some kind. She lifted the doily and bent over, circling it to look at all sides, then called to Cam, hooking her head to get her to come over.
“Bingo.”
They both gazed at a dark-blue metal box, about six inches square. On the front, but facing away from the audience, was a lock. Val bent down to get a closer look.
“It’s a Master lock,” she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. “And this is a Master key.”
“Awesome,” Cam said.
Val wondered if her own expression was as full of anticipation as Cam’s. It seemed so, but she also watched for a twitch or a dubious gleam, any sign that Cam had less altruistic reasons to be glad Val had found it.
Val looked around the room and saw that, by now, everyone else had left. She heard a few voices out in the lobby, but the people speaking sounded too involved to come back in and ask what they were doing.
She held the box in one hand and slid the key into the lock. With a turn to the left, it clicked quietly and she withdrew the key.
The inside of the box was lined with black velvet and contained a folded piece of paper.
She pulled the paper out and opened it.
“It’s…some real-estate listings.”
Cam looked over her shoulder.
“What the hec
k?”
Val shook her head, not sure if this was even anything important. She ran her finger down the lines. “There are five addresses.” She pointed to the list. “And she wrote this up in the corner.”
“October 2nd.”
A desolate ache jabbed her heart. “Two days before my mom died.”
Cam tentatively placed her hand on Val’s shoulder, in the way people reach out when they’re not sure they have the right to but want to.
“I’m sorry,” Cam said softly, “but is there a connection?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s nothing.”
“But maybe it’s something.” Cam motioned for her to sit down beside her on the couch.
“Maybe that’s what those people are looking for,” Val spoke her thoughts out loud, “except they didn’t know they were looking for a key. They were looking for what was in the box the key opened. She had the key, and I have to assume that since this paper is dated two days before her death, she put it here, told no one, and buried the key in the flour. But is it a coincidence or was it deliberate?”
“Let’s say she put this here for a reason and wanted someone to find it. That someone is obviously you.”
“Why should we assume that?”
“If she wanted someone else, she would have told them where the key was. Or made it easier to find. Evidently, whoever was rifling through your house, and maybe your car, had no clue of its whereabouts.”
Val held up the paper. “We don’t even know if this is what they were looking for.”
“What else do we have to go on?” Cam used her hand to chop off points into the palm of her other hand. “Some unknown people, except for the girl from the deer accident, went through your things three different times. Something’s really fishy about the accident. Your mom leaves a key that goes to that box, and she puts information in it two days before she…”
Cam’s voice dropped off, and Val’s natural reaction was to reach over and squeeze her knee. She actually landed a little higher up and was surprised by the feel of her strong thigh. The rapid rush of desire that suddenly surged between her legs caught her off guard. She quickly removed her hand, and the best cover-up was to pretend an itch on her forehead suddenly needed scratching.
Either Cam hadn’t noticed or was polite enough not to acknowledge Val’s very unsmooth move. “If we only knew why this list was in that box.”
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