Cassie was serving other diners at the next table when she heard her name mentioned. Turning towards Julie and Vincent, Cassie smiled, “You called?” Cassie wondered who the gentleman with the French Cognac sitting at the table was.
“Speak of the devil. Cassie, this is Mr. Mancini, Chantele's husband. We were talking about you.”
Cassie paused, her smile faltering. She remembered what Chantele told her days before. Cassie reached into her pocket and looked at Vince for a moment before greeting him with a handshake. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mancini. Chantele is a beautiful person, and we all love her very much.” Cassie gave Vincent a strained smile.
Vincent felt something odd in Cassie’s handshake. It wasn't Julie he was after, it was Cassie. His mind raced, and his heart pounded. Withdrawing his hand from Cassie’s, he almost dropped the item. He identified the object as a small key while slipping it into his pocket.
Cassie secretly slipped Vincent the small silver key Chantele gave her for just this moment. She knew Chantele before she’d started visiting the restaurant, they’d met through Sanya. Noticing customers standing at the reservations desk, Cassie asked Julie to go and greet the new diners.
With Julie gone, she turned to Vincent and whispered, “It's a key to a post office box, but I don't know the number. Chantele said you would know which one it is. The Post Office is at the end of this street. It's not hard to find.” Cassie glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone saw the exchange, walking away before Vincent could ask her any questions.
“Wait, Cassie, wait…” He called out to her before realizing he’d captured the attention of all the diners in the restaurant with the volume of his voice.
Julie returned and asked Vincent if there was anything more she could do for him? Vincent, fiddled with the key in his pocket, knowing he’d lost his appetite.
Paying the bill for a dinner he never ordered and a cognac he drank too quickly, to appreciate, he explained to Julie that he had an emergency and needed to leave. He thanked the staff and left the restaurant, clutching the key to the mystery box. He needed to get to the Post Office at the end of the street.
Vincent went over the events of the afternoon. How were there so many things he didn't know about Chantele? The words from the book haunting him, Chantele was not the person he thought he’d married. He felt the temperature drop, the evening was rapidly transitioning to night. What secrets could Chantele possibly have that she couldn't be honest about them with her husband?
Uneasy and feeling betrayed, his feelings for Chantele teetered between frustration and pure unadulterated anger. He couldn’t stay mad at her though. Curiosity about what he would find in the mailbox took over his thoughts. He hated secrets and mystery equally. He even hated the surprise party Chantele had thrown him for his 30th birthday. Not being in control was a new adventure for Vincent, one he was not enjoying one iota.
***
Back at the cottage in the English countryside, Alex grew impatient watching his sister's faces buried in their mobile phones. It was quiet and calm in the cottage. Alex didn’t feel calm though. He wasn't interested in reading textbooks or researching the solar system tonight. The events of the last few days didn't sit right with him; he wasn't buying the story his father had been selling to them when they abruptly left home.
Vincent informed the kids that Chantele had an important business trip come up unexpectedly, and she would be away for a while. He told them she was outside any cell phone service areas and she would miss them while she was away. Their house was being subjected to fumigation to deal with the insects which had invaded their home. Hence the reason he used to validate the urgency of them leaving. Vincent even buttered them up, trying to convince them it was a bonus to leave a week early for Easter Holidays.
Alex never believed a word of his father’s story. He couldn't help but wonder about his father's state of mind. His behavior had become quite erratic ever since he’d discovered his father in his mother’s haven. Alex remembered it clearly and kept thinking of the book his father was holding when Alex raced into the attic to find out why his father was so upset.
Heading to the bedroom his father was sleeping in, Alex began to search for the book. He looked under the bed, in the cupboard, and amongst his father's belongings. After searching for more than twenty minutes, Alex still hadn’t found the book. Sitting in the lounge, he wondered where his father would hide such an item. He looked around the room once more before deciding his father must have taken it with.
Heading back to his room to prepare for bed Alex remembered his glasses needed adjusting. Returning to his father's room he opened his father’s suitcase, still packed. Alex searched through the luggage for the toolbox when he began to squeal with excitement. He saw the brown leather book, hidden in the pile of his father's clothes.
“Bingo!” Alex exclaimed under his breath.
Running back to his room Alex closed the door and made himself comfortable in bed. He hoped the book would tell him the truth of why his father was so upset.
Reading Chantele's journal, Alex was both shocked and upset. He shivered with worry reading the message his mother left for his father. It all made sense to Alex now, his suspicion of his father’s story was justified. Alex's mother was missing. He thought about her other identity, how he only knew his mother to be Chantele Mancini. He couldn't imagine her being anyone else. So, who was this other woman? Who was Alex's real mother and why did she keep the secret from his father, why bury her past from the world?
Terrified for his mother’s wellbeing, Alex promised to help his father search for her. He also decided not to tell his sisters about the disappearance of their mother. He couldn't face the thought of upsetting them. Things at home were already tricky between them and Chantele. Sixteen-year-olds and their parents rarely got along well, and the typical adolescent disagreements existed in their family no different than any other. Alex closed his eyes and waited for his father to come home. He wanted to tell his father that he knew the truth about his mother and that he was going to help bring her back.
While he waited, Alex thought about the hidden clues in the journal. Alex decided to figure out the puzzles to save his mother.
CHAPTER 9
H
undreds of mailboxes lined the corridors of the Post Office Cassie directed him to. Vincent was feeling flustered, lost, and confused. He had no idea where to even start looking. He strolled down a row, glancing at the numbers as he went by. He saw mailbox numbers 1267, 1268, 1269, 1270 and so on down the line.
Multiple blocks of private letterboxes surrounded him. Frustrated, Vincent sat on the brick wall and looked down at the key. It was only small with no numbers or other clues to suggest which box it opened. Thinking back to the message from Chantele, he closed his eyes and tried to decipher the cryptic information Chantele left for him. His photographic memory served him well, allowing him to mentally scroll through every line in her letter as if it were still in front of him.
“Numbers, she keeps referring to her numbers?” Vincent puzzled as he continued to think through what she wanted him to uncover.
“- taught you how to solve equations. I used that strength, highlighting a few digits during our time together, -”
“- Concentrate, on everything these numbers represent to me. Focus, on what they express for the both of us, and find me. -”
Zooming into the subtle message about numbers, it dawned on him Chantele's favorite numbers were seven and thirteen. Chantele worshipped those numbers. They met on the seventh and married on the thirteenth. Their son was born on the 7th. He was confident these were the numbers Chantele wanted him to remember.
Racing down the corridor, the numbers seven and thirteen rang loudly in his mind. His hope now was for the key to unlock the mystery of Chantele's disappearance. In the corner of his eye, he checked the numbers as he passed them. Looking across the hall, he finally located seven and thirteen. Vincent nerv
ously moved closer.
Chantele favored the number thirteen over the seven. So, Vincent carefully inserted the key in the box numbered thirteen first. He crossed his fingers and tried to turn the key. It didn’t budge. Vincent's heart sank. It wasn't the right letterbox.
“It has to be seven,” Vincent mumbled, half in desperation and the other half in confidence. He inserted the key and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he applied pressure. His reward was an audible click as the key unlocked letterbox number seven.
Vincent opened it impatient to see the contents. He pulled out a small envelope addressed with the letter – ‘V.’ A quick glance told him there was nothing else inside. He slid the note to the inside pocket of his coat, checking the hall for anyone who might be watching. Not seeing anybody, he relocked the letterbox and headed for the car.
It was beginning to rain, and it was getting late. Vincent knew Alex would be worried, so he started his return journey to the cottage, trying to imagine what could be in the letter Chantele wanted him to find.
***
Alex was engrossed in the book left by his mother. Samantha and Suzie fell asleep sometime earlier, but he couldn’t find sleep knowing his mother was in danger. He heard the engine of his father's car and hoped his mother was with him. Alex rushed to the door, convincing himself on the way his mother would be there to greet him with her arms open wide to give him a huge hug. He was missing her desperately and wanted her to come home.
Vincent walked in alone and saw Alex waiting near the door. Alex’s face instantly displayed his disappointment, his eyes said it all. Vincent hugged his son and whispered in his ear, “Mum will be home soon, Alex. I promise.”
“Dad, I know about the message Mum left you. I know she’s missing.” Alex whispered back. “I’m going to help you find her. We’ll do it together,” Alex re-assured, his father.
Vincent fought to keep his emotions under control, he wanted Chantele home safely not only for himself but for the sake of their children. He was aching for Chantele and fighting a myriad of fears, not knowing if she was alive.
Now, it was late. He picked Alex up and went to the boy’s bedroom. While tucking his son in, he remembered the envelope in his pocket. Vincent sat down on the bed next to Alex, forced a smile for his son, and opened the envelope.
It was empty.
He sighed, there was no letter only another key. This key was different from the first. It was a lot bigger as if it were for a door. Vincent noticed two numbers inscribed on the metal part of the head of the key – two and seven. He had no idea what these numbers meant. His only indication was the numbers two and seven, or perhaps twenty-seven. Vincent knew twenty-seven was Chantele's birthday.
The events of the day caught up with them, and they fell asleep. Tomorrow was a new day, and they hoped to find her. Vincent woke multiple times throughout the night, not knowing if he would ever be with the love of his life again.
***
Vincent took Alex with him the next day. With the girls gone shopping, Vincent and Alex joined forces to search for Chantele together. Their only lead was the mysterious key, with twenty-seven, engraved on it.
Vincent’s phone rang, checking the caller ID before he answered it told him it was Chantele’s boss again. Seeing the name reminded Vincent he was supposed to call Lina and let her know Chantele wouldn't be at work for a while. “Lina, hello. How are you?” He tried to sound casual.
“Hi, Vincent. I'm doing well thank you. How are you?” Lina sounded worried.
“Yeah, I’m great thanks. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been trying to call Chantele, but she isn't answering her phone. Is she with you?” Lina didn’t wait for an answer, “She hasn't been to work for the past two days, and it appears she isn't coming in today either.”
Vincent didn’t say anything, unsure how to respond.
“I know she met with her father on Monday and took the day off to be with him, but she hasn't called back since. Is everything okay?” Lina fell silent.
Vincent was shocked to hear Chantele met with her father the day she disappeared. She never told him her father was coming to town. Vincent met Anton only a handful of times over the years and knew little about him. Chantele didn’t discuss him, so Vincent assumed their relationship became rocky after Chantele's mother died from cancer. Chantele never gave Vincent a reason to believe otherwise.
“Yes, yes of course Lina. Chantele is a little under the weather. She’s caught a nasty bug,” Vincent faked confidence, “Please accept my apologies Lina, it was my job to inform you, but these three kids have kept me busy. I have taken time off work so she can rest and recover.” Pleased with himself, he hoped Lina wouldn’t catch him out.
Being dishonest was difficult for Vincent. He loathed lies and deception. His morals and O.C.D. didn't allow him to lie – until now.
“Please, don't apologize. I completely understand, Vincent. Give my love to Chantele. Tell her to take all the time she needs to get back on her feet.” The relief in Lina’s voice was obvious. “Oh, before I forget, could you remind Chantele her office is next up for renovations this week? They are replacing all the locks on the doors, and she won't have access to her office for a while. Let me quickly confirm that?”
There was a pause while Lina checked her list. “Sorry, Vincent, thanks for holding on. I was right, number twenty-seven is listed for first thing tomorrow morning.”
The mystery key belonged to Chantele's new office. He’d had no idea that his wife’s office even had a number. Now that he’d established where to use the key, Vincent knew he had to get to Chantele’s office before they replaced the lock.
“Lina, I am actually on my way into Chantele's office, she wanted me to pick up a few files she left behind when she came down with sick. Is it alright with you if I quickly pop by and grab everything she needs while she’s home in bed?” The rate at which his lies were growing made him rub the back of his neck. His false truths being morphed on the spur of the moment into a brilliant plan, and surprisingly, it was working great.
“Not a problem my end. Please tell Chantele to get some rest and send her my best wishes for a quick recovery. I’ll see you soon, Vince.” Lina disconnected the call.
Doing an illegal U-turn along the busy highway, Vincent raced to Chantele's office. “I am an idiot. I should've known that!” Upset at himself, he momentarily forgot Alex was in the car too.
“That's okay Dad. You’ve been through a lot; everything’s going to be fine!” Alex smiled at his father. “Dad, how did you find that key?” Alex asked innocently.
“I got it at a place I took your mother to for dinner. She left a message with one of the waitresses to hand me a key for a private mailbox at the post office near the restaurant. That key opened letterbox seven and in it was the envelope we opened together last night. As you know, inside we found the key engraved with the number twenty-seven.” Vincent explained the events to his son, trying to honor his son's promise to help find their mother.
“Oh…. The clues in Mum's letter,” Alex confirmed, mentally matching Vincent's story to the diary. “So, this unlocks Mum’s office!” Alex announced. “Do you know what we are looking for?
“I guess we’ll soon see,” Vincent replied hoping whatever it was could be easily identified.
PART FIVE
The Kensington Oracle London
CHAPTER 10
A
rriving at the Kensington Oracle the Mancini’s saw the contractor’s trucks and all the construction already going ahead in the building. It was hectic, people scattered all over like ants on a mission. While they waited for the elevator that would take them up to Chantele’s floor, Lina walked through the foyer. Vincent quickly turned his back to her, praying she kept on going. When the doors opened, he rushed Alex in, hiding to the side of the lift while it closed in case Lina glanced around and spied them. He wasn't in the mood for any more questions. Deceiving L
ina with lies on the phone was bad enough, but impossible to do in person.
The floor was empty, most of Chantele’s co-workers spent the morning working on stories out in the field. The key unlocked her office without any problems. Inside the boys felt a twinge of sadness, seeing Chantele's elegance and warmth reflected in how she kept her office. The decor was modern, and everything a journalist required was within reach of the chair behind her desk. What stood out the most were pictures of her family displayed prominently on her desk.
“Right. Alex, start looking!” Vincent sighed, not knowing where to begin.
“I already have sir,” Alex’s voice came from a cabinet in the corner.
Between them, they looked everywhere, in her files, through her cabinets, under her lounge, even behind the artwork on the wall. They felt like they were in a James Bond movie.
“Hmmm now, where should I look Mr. Bond, James Bond?” Alex Joked. With that, his eyes widened. “Wait, 007,” Alex murmured. “Dad, the number of your first key, it was seven, right?”
“Yes, but I don't see how that helps us here?” Vincent frowned at Alex.
They continued to search but couldn't find anything. Alex and Vincent checked everywhere, continually hitting a dead end. Disappointed, Vincent sat at Chantele's desk thinking through the clues while idly spinning the pen he had given her.
Alex was thinking through the message his mother left, watching his father twirl the pen. Suddenly, it clicked. “The pen! Dad, it’s Mum’s pen!” Alex called out, getting his father’s attention,” The message Dad.” Repeating the words from his mother's lines he continued,
“… and remember the dinner date where you surprised me with a customized pen. … Are you taking notes, Vincent? …” Alex paused to see if his father was keeping up.
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