The Key in the Attic (2 page)

Taking each step with extra caution, Annie made her way down to the attic door. She couldn’t hear anything out in the hallway anymore.

“Scaredy cat,” she called, but she was glad the crash had spooked Boots. No need getting glass in any curious little paws.

She set the box on the bottom step and sat next to it with the fragmented remains of the vase at her feet. She told herself it probably wouldn’t have brought much in a sale anyway, but she had liked it. There was something very sweet about it—as innocent as first love. It was as easily shattered too.

With a sigh, she started picking up the larger pieces. It couldn’t possibly be fixed. Too much of it lay in glistening little shards and slivers on the wooden floor. The metal stand was still intact, of course, but it looked as if part of it had come loose.

Annie picked it up. No, the stand was fine. What she was seeing was some kind of brass fitting that had been stuck to the bottom of the vase with putty. When she had examined the vase earlier, she had thought the putty was to secure the vase in its stand. Now it looked as if—

A key.

She wriggled it loose from its hiding place. The putty was hard and brittle now, broken like the vase, and the key quickly came free.

It was an odd-looking little thing, maybe an inch long, maybe smaller, but rather heavy for its size. It looked as if it was made of brass, and instead of the usual flourishes or loops, the bow was ornamented with the head of a lion.

She turned it over in her hand and then over again. “What I wouldn’t give to know what you went to. Maybe a diary or a travel case or something that is probably long gone by now.”

The door rattled again, and Annie stuffed the key into the pocket of her jeans.

“All right, scaredy cat. I’m coming.”

2

The following Tuesday morning, Annie was the last to arrive at the meeting of the Hook and Needle Club. Everyone else was huddled together next to one of the pattern racks, and Kate motioned her over to them.

“Mary Beth’s down in the basement getting a packet of appliqué needles for Peggy, so we just have a minute. Did you find anything good up in your attic?”

Annie dumped her purse and crochet bag into an unoccupied chair. “Several promising things. What about all of you? And—hey!—Wally did a great job getting that window taken care of. You can’t tell anything ever happened.”

“If there’s one thing my Wally knows, it’s putting stuff back the way it’s supposed to be.” Peggy’s eyes sparkled. “I didn’t think he and I would be able to do anything much to help Mary Beth. Wally offered to do the window for free, but she wouldn’t let him. Anyway, Wally has some baseball cards he’s kept since he was a boy—some he got from his grandpa—and he thinks they might be worth something. He said he doesn’t mind helping Mary Beth with them if they are.”

Gwen nodded and whispered, “I have this really old—”

“It must be good if you’re whispering,” interrupted Mary Beth.

Mary Beth laughed as she came up to them, and panicked, the other women looked at Annie. Scrambling for something plausible to say, Annie pulled her key ring out of her pocket and showed Mary Beth the little key that had been plastered under the bottom of the china vase in the attic.

“I accidentally broke one of Gram’s vases the other day, and this was stuck underneath it. I don’t know what it goes to, and I just thought I’d see if anybody had any ideas.”

Mary Beth studied it for a moment. “That’s funny. That lion looks just like the ones that are on my end table at home.”

Annie frowned. “Aw, and I was hoping it was something really old and mysterious.”

Mary Beth laughed. “If it goes with the table, it
is
old. That thing was passed down at least from my great-great-grandmother’s time. It’s just a table though. Nothing to open up. No locks. May I see it?”

Annie slipped the key off the ring and handed it to Mary Beth.

“Definitely looks like the lions on my table. And it was stuck underneath a vase?”

Annie nodded. “It looked like it had been covered up with some kind of putty, and then the vase was stuck onto a metal stand.”

“I wonder … .” Mary Beth’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just wondering, if this
is
connected to my table somehow, how did it get stuck to the vase? And how did the vase end up in Betsy’s attic?”

“You know how Gram was. She was a collector, and she liked pretty and interesting things.”

“And people liked giving them to her,” Alice added. “Who knows how it ended up in the attic?”

Mary Beth thought for a minute more. “Wait a minute. The vase you broke, was it kind of tall and delicate with flowers and little angels painted on it?”

Annie nodded, a little spark of anticipation running through her.

“And it was on a brass stand, wasn’t it?”

Again Annie nodded. “At least I think it’s brass.”

“Then I’m sure Mother must have given that to your grandmother. Betsy was one of the few people besides me who visited my mother at Seaside Hills Assisted Living before she died.”

“Really? I wish there was something left of it so you could look at it. It broke into a million pieces.”

“That’s all right. Mother gave it to me a long time ago. Then, when she went to assisted living, I took it to her with some flowers in it. I always wondered what happened to it—not that it was worth much of anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mary Beth. I wish I’d known. I would’ve given it back to you.”

Mary Beth patted Annie’s arm. “Don’t you worry about it. I’m sure Mother was glad Betsy had it. I know she enjoyed the visits.”

“But if the key and the table both were in your family, doesn’t that prove they go together?” Peggy clasped her hands together. “How exciting! A secret key.”

“That doesn’t really prove anything, you know,” Stella said. “Maybe a long while back there was another piece of furniture, something matching, something that had a lock. Mary Beth says the table doesn’t have one.”

Peggy wrinkled her nose. “You’re no fun.”

“Is there another piece?” Kate asked, and Mary Beth shook her head.

“Not that I ever heard of. There was the table with the lions on it, another table with chairs in a different style, a writing desk, some china, a mantel clock and some silver pieces passed down from my great-great-grandmother, but that’s all, besides a few books and papers. I—uh—don’t have the desk anymore, but the fittings on it weren’t anything like this key.”

Annie glanced at Kate. Was the writing desk the antique piece Kate had overheard Mary Beth trying to sell? Annie and the rest of the club had to do something quickly before Mary Beth was forced to let go of any other family treasures.

“Hmmm.”

Alice nudged Annie out of her reverie. “Are you going to stare at that key all day, or are we going to do our hook-and-needle thing?”

Laughing, she and the others went to their places in the circle of chairs.

“Here are your needles, Peggy.” Mary Beth handed her the little black and gold paper packet she had brought up from the basement. “And, Annie, you’re welcome to come look at my great-great-grandma’s table if you would like. I don’t know if it’ll help.”

“You know me.” Annie gave her a smile. “Leave no mystery unsolved.”

“Yes, we definitely know you. Come by my place after the shop closes tonight. OK, everybody, before we get started, how about we each give an update on the projects we’re working on. Gwen, why don’t you start us off? That’s a gorgeous sweater you’re knitting. I love that teal and gold blend.”

****

Mary Beth’s cottage was much like her: warm and welcoming, unpretentious, neatly kept and eclectic. As always, a picture of her beloved niece had a prominent place on her mantel.

“This is a new one, isn’t it?” Annie smiled as she looked at the pretty young woman with expressive blue eyes and long blonde hair. “How is Amy these days?”

“Oh, busy-busy as usual, but she’s promised me a visit soon.” Mary Beth’s dark eyes glowed. “I have so many things planned for when she’s here. I may even close the shop for a few days, just so we’ll have time together.”

“Couldn’t Kate—”

“Kate’s been pretty busy herself these days with her pattern sales and all. I hate to keep her tied down to the shop.”

Or can’t afford to.

“Mary Beth … um, how
is
the shop lately?”

The older woman merely made an airy gesture with both hands. “Oh, ups and downs as always. You used to help your husband with your car dealership, didn’t you? You know how it is. Do you want some coffee?”

Annie held back a wry smile. So much for finding out more about Mary Beth’s financial problems.

“That would be great.”

She glanced around the room once Mary Beth had left it. The living room window, hung with sweet floral-patterned drapes, overlooked a garden bursting with white wild-oats, showy blue harebells, and purple columbine, but the lovely cherry writing desk that had once stood in front of it was gone. An afghan-draped rocking chair now stood in its place. What else had she been forced to sell just to stay solvent?

Annie finally turned to the object of her visit: the gleaming round walnut table that stood at the end of Mary Beth’s sofa. The top was perhaps twenty inches across. The apron around it was four or five inches deep, and as Mary Beth had said, brass lion heads that matched the key were placed at regular intervals around it, connected by intricately carved swags of flower garlands. The tabletop rested on a six-sided pedestal mounted on a base shaped almost like a six-pointed star, the gentle inward curves coming out to blunted points that rested on clawed feet. Like the top, the pedestal and base were lavishly carved.

Annie got down on her knees so she could see underneath the tabletop. Obviously, the apron was strictly for ornamental purposes, because there were no inner workings to conceal. All the space inside was hollow.

“This is really a beautiful table.” Annie got back to her feet when Mary Beth returned with the coffee. “I’d never really noticed it when I was here before. But I see what you mean about there not being any drawers or anything.”

Mary Beth handed her a steaming cup. “It’s been in the family a long, long time. I think if it held any secrets, we’d know about it by now. Maybe there was a matching piece that got sold or thrown out years ago.”

Annie breathed in the rich smell of the coffee, grappling with her disappointment. Then she set the cup down on the mantel, leaving it untasted.

“You know I can’t leave it like that. Would you mind if I turned the table over and gave it a really good look?”

Mary Beth laughed and cleared the table of the few pictures and knickknacks that decorated it. Annie got down on her knees again and turned it onto its side and then onto its top.

“No keyhole here,” she reported as she examined the base. “I thought maybe there’d be one right in the middle here, but it’s only a wooden peg.”

Mary Beth didn’t say anything, but there was an I-could-have-told-you-that-much twinkle in her eye.

Undaunted, Annie lay the table on its side again and rapped on one of the pedestal’s six sides.

“It’s hollow.”

“Most likely,” Mary Beth said, “but you can’t get into it without taking the whole thing apart.”

Annie examined the carving, searching from one side to the next to the next, looking for anything that looked even slightly different from the rest. Finally she sat back.

“You can’t get into it unless you have a key—” She grinned at Mary Beth. “—and a keyhole.”

“Did you find something? No way!”

“Look right here.”

Mary Beth got down on the floor beside Annie and squinted.

“Wait a minute.”

A few seconds later, she was back, her reading glasses perched on her nose.

“Now show me what you mean.”

“Right there.” Annie pointed out a tiny carved rose, perhaps an eighth of an inch across, that was surrounded by a dozen others just like it. “See? It’s got this little channel all the way around it. And this leaf … see there, right next to it? It’s split down the middle like all the other ones, but the split on this one goes all the way through. What if …?” She took the key from her pocket and examined it. “What if the hollow end of this key fits
over
this rose and the bit slides right into the leaf?”

She tried it as she said it. The fit was snug, but the key went in.

Mary Beth’s eyes were round. “Oh Annie!”

Annie’s heart was pattering a mile a minute, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“Maybe you should open it, Mary Beth. It’s yours.”

“Oh no. I’d be so excited that I’d break something. Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Open it! Open it!”

Annie took a deep breath. “Here goes.”

Her fingers trembling, she turned the key. There was a tiny click, but nothing else happened.

Mary Beth huffed in exasperation. Annie glanced at her and then gave the key a tug.

The whole side of the pedestal came loose.

Mary Beth had both hands over her mouth, her eyes even rounder than before. “I don’t believe it!”

“It’s hollow like you said, but it’s not empty.” Annie handed her a little paper packet tied up with string. “Protected from light and air like that, it looks like it’s in pretty good shape, but it must be very old.”

Mary Beth turned it over. “I’m almost afraid to touch it, but I’m dying to know what it says.”

Annie bit her lip. “It’s just tied in a bow. If you give it the tiniest little pull …”

Mary Beth did. The string came off easily, and she gently lifted one corner of the packet and then a second.

Annie reached inside. “There’s another key. What does the paper say?”

Mary Beth sat down on the couch and laid the pages on the coffee table so she could examine them more closely. Annie sat beside her.

“Look at that copperplate handwriting. It must be very old.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “I really can’t believe this.”

“What does it say?”

Mary Beth passed the pages to Annie so she could read them for herself.

Beloved Angeline,

A letter brought you here, and now you must find more:

England’s 45 inches

Twice indebted

Katherine at home

Blue and twinkling

Roadside refuge

Turn to the right

Twice beholden

Scotland’s river

Busy sweets maker

Twice obliged

Katherine to her friends

50~2~4~1

1~1~1~1

2~32~16~11

19~23~5~4

62~1~5~21

19~27~1~1

18~11~8~11

5~29~29~2

19~119~114~5

Yours always,

Geoffrey

“A real puzzle,” Annie said. “And I bet it’s at least a hundred years old—maybe a hundred and fifty. How fun is that?”

Mary Beth shook her head again. “I really can’t believe this. My great-great-grandmother’s name was Angeline. It has to have been meant for her.”

“Oh, how sweet. Your great-great-grandfather must have left this puzzle for her. I wonder what it leads to and where he hid the other letters and what this new key goes to.”

“No, it couldn’t have been him. Yes, my great-great-grandmother was Angeline, but my great-great-grandfather’s name was James.”

“Then who was Geoffrey?”