by CeeCee James
Stella squinted to read it. “TPG. You think that could be for a bank?”
“You mean like for a security box?”
“Yeah. I don’t think those are two complicated because they take two keys.”
“Good idea. I’ll check it out.”
Stella received a text and groaned as she read it. “Best day ever. I’m being asked to go to a meeting with the bank manager, Uncle Chris, and some lawyer. Want to come along?”
“Not particularly,” I said dryly. A lawyer? I was out.
We made plans to meet later to debrief and both headed our separate ways. I decided I needed some very strong coffee and maybe some food. It only took two seconds to realize Darcy’s Doughnuts fit that bill perfectly.
I pulled into the doughnut shop and gathered my stuff. Walking inside was like getting a chocolate eclair hug. It smelled so good. I ordered a coffee and doughnut and took them to an empty booth by a window. Outside, the traffic was trickling down from the morning rush. A woman walked by with two Weiner dogs on leashes. A bird darted down to claim some piece of discarded food, and the dogs took off after it at a frenzy. Both animals were immediately curbed by the leashes, but still managed to knock their walker off kilter. The dogs continued to strain, playing a strange game of tug-of-war with a very unwilling participant, all the while barking ferociously.
I smiled as they scurried past. Okay. Let’s figure this key out. I chomped into my doughnut and then started my search on the phone. First, I looked for local banks to see if any of the names matched the initials on the key. The closest I found was one called TrustFirst. They only had a few branches. Might be small enough to use a key like this. After a swig of coffee, I called them.
“TrustFirst bank, how can I help you?”
“Hello. I was curious if the keys to your safety deposit boxes have initials on them?”
“No. I’m sorry. We don’t have safety deposit boxes at all.”
“Okay, thank you.” My tone sounded chipper, but I was super disappointed. I took another bite, thinking. Well, let’s make the search bigger.
I plugged the initials into the search engine to see what they’d bring up nationwide and hit enter.
Holy Cowabunga! The list looked never ending. It brought up everything from some illness that goldfish could catch, to a type of mushroom, to a Podiatrist.
I clicked on the doctor and then exited just as quickly. The first image they had on their page was a giant toe with something funky going on with it. Something I didn’t want to examine any closer.
“They should really give you warnings,” I muttered.
“Georgie!” A happy voice called out.
I glanced up, feeling a bit bleary-eyed from staring at the screen.
It was Charity Valentine and her taller and much more solemn sister, Gladys.
“Oh, hi, you guys!” How are you doing?” I smiled.
“We’re not guys. And apparently, what we’re doing is catching you talking to yourself.” Gladys sniffed. She never did like me, but Stella told me not to take it personally. Apparently, that was one of her endearing traits.
“Sister, that’s so unkind. We’re doing good! How are you?” Charity was a small package just bursting with joy. Her gray curly hair seemed to quiver with it.
“I’m good. Tired. How are things at the nursing home? Still teaching dancing lessons?”
Charity clapped her hands. “Yes! You should come see us sometime! Henry is so improved.” Henry was, as she termed it, her beau. It was fun to see her so happy.
“How’s Miss Dolly?” Stella had introduced her to me when we’d led the craft table last month.
“She’s doing good. Wondering when you are coming back for another visit.”
I grimaced. Life sometimes got in the way of the best intentions.
“I will soon,” I promised.
Charity glanced at the table. “So, are you off to the gym?”
“The what?” What would she know of going to the gym?
“The gym. That’s where I take Salsa lessons. And that’s for the gym lockers.” She pointed to the key on the table.
My mouth dropped. I glanced down the street where The Pump Gym was at. I don’t know if I was more stunned that she figured the mystery out or that she went to the gym more than I ever did.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. And then with admiration. “You go there for lessons? I’m impressed.”
“Pshaw.” She waved her hand. “I’m eighty, not dead. I figure you better move your biscuits while you still can.”
I laughed. “You are so right.”
She did a little shimmy demonstration for me right there. Gladys rolled her eyes. Charity wasn’t daunted and grabbed her sister’s hand to try to twirl her around.
“Charity, please.”
“Come on, sister. Show me your moves.”
“I’ll move you with my cane in a minute if you don’t stop.”
“Psh, you overgrown fuddy-duddy.”
Before they left, Charity extracted from me a promise to visit the home soon. I actually was looking forward to it.
Out on the sidewalk, Charity continued to dance, with Gladys continuing to look just as put-upon. Yet I knew how fiercely Gladys loved her sister. They made me happy.
My phone vibrated with a phone call.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Georgie, it’s Stella.”
Her hushed tone immediately set me on alert. “How are things going?”
“Horrid. Marcus is here.”
“Who?”
“Marcus Dunham. Calvin’s son.”
I gasped. “Are you serious? The same guy that kicked our sign?”
“The one and only. And he looks like he’s still in prime kicking mood.”
“Wow. Are you okay?”
“Trust me, my uncle isn’t playing. Things are pretty tense down here. We’re actually on a five minute break for everyone to cool down.”
“Whoa!” I was surprised. Who knew bank meetings needed cool down periods?
“Yeah. Right now Marcus Dunham is threatening a civil suit against the bank.”
“You think he can stop the sale?”
“Highly unlikely. The last explosion came when Mr. Twist said that unless Mr. Dunham could produce the full amount to pay for the remainder left on the house, the house would soon be up for auction. And then Marcus started screaming that his father was missing, and some guard came in and separated everyone.”
“Why are you even there?”
“It turns out that it was Marcus Dunham’s lawyer who insisted on it. Uncle Chris said that was ridiculous to involve us at all. So that went back and forth for a while. The lawyer wants us to refuse to represent the bank, while Mr. Twist insists we are under contract.” Stella sighed. “And then the lawyer tried to say there was some weird conflict of interest since the bank’s employee was found dead there. Honestly, the whole thing is a mess.”
“Wow, that sounds awful.”
“I’m just a little overwhelmed. I have to get back in there. I’ll let you know what the end result of all of this is. But Stella, get this….”
“What?”
“Jonathan Twist is still using the Black Cat LLC pen!”
She hung up before I could tell her what I’d learned so far about the key. The entire conversation made that minuscule joy I’d just garnered from my visit with the sisters start to evaporate. I stuffed the last bit of doughnut in my mouth and then washed it down with coffee. I couldn’t worry about the bank meeting right now. I had to focus on my own goals. It was time to snoop around the gym.
Chapter 17
The Pump Gym’s parking lot was almost empty. Of course, it was late spring. Come here after New Year’s and you’d have to park out on the street two blocks away.
I walked up to the entrance with more than a little twinge of guilt. I’d been a regular here for a while, but lately had slacked off.
I opened the door, letting out a gust of humid air stinking
with sweat and cinnamon. My plan was just to sneak back to the locker rooms.
“Georgie!” Robbie called from the area to the right of the front desk.
Caught! I wasn’t even two steps in.
I smiled as I turned in his direction, feeling my stomach knot. Be creative! Think of an excuse!
“What’s going on? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you.” He wore a tank and sweat pants emblazoned with the gym logo. He finished tacking up a poster for some dance class and then walked over.
I panicked. “Hi, Robbie. Yes, it has been a while. I—uh—I had an epidemic to deal with.”
“An epidemic? That’s awful! What was going on?”
Heaven help me, I blurted out the first horrible thing I could think of. “Bugs!"
He paused. I watched him try to digest that. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he figured out a retort.
“You have a bug epidemic?”
I was horrible at this lying thing. I swallowed and tried to recover. “Fleas, yes. Didn’t want to bring them here. So anyway, I have to check my locker. I left some stuff here the last time I came.” I held out the key to prove my point.
He glanced at it and his eyebrow quirked up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to exercise today because…”
“Because of the flea bites.”
My face heated. “Something like that.”
“Well, you go right ahead. I don’t want to keep you.” He waved toward the dressing rooms.
I shifted my purse higher on my shoulder and walked with determination in that direction. Each step I shamed myself. “Dumb to lie, dumb to lie.”
The gym was filled with the usual members. Grunts came from the weight room, along with the thud of dropping barbells. Cinnamon scented the air from the essential oil based disinfecting spray.
Seeing everyone work out made me feel even more guilty. I hurried into the locker room. Steam filled the air from the running showers. I walked down the aisle to where the lockers were. There was a bench loaded with towels and clothing in front of an open locker. I walked the length of the row, scanning them for the number.
The last locker was a full hundred numbers below the one on the key. Had Charity been wrong?
But Robbie hadn’t blinked an eye when I showed him the key. I thought about it. He had made a weird face though.
I walked down the row again, knowing I wouldn’t find it. It was similar to the same feeling that urges you to recheck the fridge, hoping something good to eat had magically appeared.
The woman had finished her shower and was drying her hair. I noticed she was watching me from the mirror. Realizing how suspicious this looked, I quickly exited.
Right into Robbie’s arms.
“Get your stuff?” he asked. Funny. He raised that same eyebrow again.
“Uh,” I glanced at the key. “I guess I’m in the wrong place.”
“That’s one of our keys,” he said simply.
I watched him suspiciously. Something was up. What was I missing?
He continued. “That’s the key to a locker in the men’s room. Interesting that you should store your stuff in there.”
This was never going to end, was it? I decided to come clean. “Can we talk someplace privately?”
“I think it’s about time.” He led me down a hallway to where his office sat. It smelled like a weird mixture between oatmeal and aftershave.
“Want a shake?” he offered, holding out a container with a shaker ball.
I shook my head. That must be where the oatmeal scent was coming from. I wanted nothing to do with it.
“So, what’s going on?”
I blew out a deep breath. “So, long story short, I found something that might help me with a mystery I’ve found myself entangled in.”
“That key.”
“Yeah.” I wet my bottom lip. “You think we can find out who had the locker?”
“I think we can do something like that.” He started to leave the office.
“Wait, where you going?”
“To get the locker list.”
“Oh, you don’t keep it in a computer file?”
He shook his head. “Nope. We do it the old-fashioned way here.”
He left, closing the door behind him. I glanced around the office. Awards papered one wall, along with Robbie in a body building competition. I stood up to look closer. Whoa! Look at that spray tan. And the muscles! And that teeny tiny sparkling speedo!
The door opened. I spun around with the same panic as if I was caught clutching the Hope Diamond.
“Oh, you like those pictures, huh?” He smirked.
I had no answer. My mind raced to regroup. “The suit looks snazzy.” Snazzy, Georgie? Gah! And why remark on the suit at all?
He started to laugh. “That was the Federal Classic last year. I took third in my group. I felt pretty happy about that. And, apparently, snazzy.”
My cheeks heated.
He didn’t care. He liked to bust my chops. “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair with the battered notebook.
I sat across from him while he opened the notebook. Inside were handwritten entries recording numbers and names.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He took a slug off of his drink container.
“How do they rent it?”
“It’s on auto-renewal, just like their membership.”
“Got it.”
He turned the page and scanned. And then the next page. Soon he was six pages back. And kept going. And going.
“There’s no mention of it?”
He shook his head as he continued to drag his finger down the list.
Finally, he paused. “Here it is.”
“And?”
“It’s by someone named Dunham.”
I knew it.
“A Marcus Dunham.”
“What?” He could have told me it was my name, and I wouldn’t have been more shocked.
“You surprised?”
“Kind of. Can we go check it out?”
He sighed and rubbed his neck. “I’m not sure. We probably have some policy on this.” A minute passed in silence while he tried to decide. Finally, he said, “Okay, how about this. Don’t tell me anything more. I need to go clear out the men’s locker room. It will be empty for about five minutes.”
I rose to my feet, excited.
“But Georgie, if you find anything, leave it there.”
“I will. I’ll just take a quick—”
“No, no, no! I don’t want to hear anything more.”
He brushed past me. I followed, watching from the front desk. He disappeared inside the locker room for a few minutes and then returned. His eyes caught mine. His head dipped and then he turned toward the gym.
Okay. Game time!
I hurried into the men’s locker room and went straight for the lockers. It was the strangest thing. Even though it was a near mirror replica of the women’s, it felt like a foreign world. It even smelled different.
Hurry. Hurry. Don’t get caught.
My heart pounded as I scanned the locker numbers. Almost there, almost there.
Out of nowhere, my cellphone buzzed. The fright almost had me hanging from the roof like a cartoon cat. I fished it out and checked. Stella.
“Hello,” I whispered.
“Georgie? Are you okay?”
“Fine. What’s going on?"
“Err. So the meeting’s over. They went back and forth for a while and then Mr. Twist ended it with the demand that we do the last open house that we’d already agreed to, and then it goes straight to auction. Marcus and his attorney stormed out. That’s where we’re at. Now where are you at?”
“In the men’s locker room about to find out where this key goes. I’ll let you know in just a minute.” I breathed in excitement. “Here it is.”
Hands trembling, I slid the key into the lock. At first it wouldn’t turn, obviously having not been used in a long ti
me. Finally, it twisted.
A putrid smell came out upon opening it. I gagged and held my breath. Stuffed inside was a stiff gym towel.
Grimacing, I pulled it out with a thumb and a finger. I gave it a light shake in case it was hiding anything and set it on the bench.
“What is it?” Now Stella was whispering.
“Just a second.”
I checked back inside. There was an envelope.
It was sealed. My excitement dropped just as fast as it had risen. Thoughtfully, I held it my hand. Robby had said to leave everything here. How much was it crossing the boundary to open this?
“There’s an envelope. It’s sealed. What do I do?”
“Open it!” Stella urged.
“It’s not Calvin’s. It’s his son’s.”
“Maybe this is what the people were looking for when they trashed the house. You have to find out what’s inside.”
“I’ll call you right back.”
It was weird how, after everything that had happened, I struggled with the ethics of tearing it open. I tapped the envelope against my hand. My attention turned to the steamy mirrors. The showers. Would the water get hot enough to cause the envelope flap to release the glue?
I hurried over to the sink and turned it on to hot. After a minute, steam appeared. I held the envelope over it and gently began to pry on the edge.
A man walked in.
“Whoa!” he said, catching sight of me in the mirror.
I froze.
“Excuse me, sir!” It was Robbie. “We have some maintenance going on in there. Just a couple more minutes and it will be available.”
The man whirled around and left.
I dropped my gaze back to the envelope. It was loosening. “Come on, come on.”
With painstaking slowness, the flap started to lift. I ran it back and forth over the steam from the faucet. Finally, I had it free.
I blew out a breath and reached inside for the paper. Fingers trembling in excitement, I pulled it out and smoothed it.
It was a long line of a series of numbers. That was it. There was nothing else there to indicate what it was for. I carried it to the bench and took a picture. Then, as fast as I could, I tucked the paper back into the envelope and pressed it shut again. I returned it to the bottom of the locker, dropped the stinky towel on top, and slammed the metal door shut. At the door, I caught Robbie’s eye. I gave him a thumbs up.
