The Locked Room

by Marti Talbott

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  As they drove east of town, Steven enjoyed the peaceful view of rows and rows of grapes that looked like they would soon be harvested, and distant corn stalks that were just beginning to reach half their height. “I wonder if they have a hospital here?”

  “Good question. Why don’t you look it up?”

  “Never mind. If I am fortunate enough to still be married when I get home, suggesting a move away from her family would probably get me killed.”

  Oliver chuckled. “Want me to talk to her?”

  “Sure,” Steven scoffed, “if all else fails.”

  When the paved road ended, instead of continuing on the dirt road toward the mountain, Oliver turned around. “I vote we get a good night’s sleep. I can’t wait to do more painting tomorrow.”

  “Right,” Steven scoffed.

  IT WAS ARTIE’S TURN to deal the cards. So far, Ben won one hand and Emma Rose won the rest, to the chagrin of the other three.

  “You ever find out what’s in the hidden room?” Emma Rose asked Colette.

  “Not yet. I still haven’t found the key.”

  “Ben could probably smash in the door with two, maybe three fingers,” said Artie.

  Colette frowned, “How am I supposed to sell this place with a smashed in door?”

  “I forgot about that. Well then, maybe Ben could...”

  “Why are you mad at me, all of a sudden?” Ben asked Artie.

  “Look at you, you figured out a way to sit beside both of my best girls.”

  “You’re sitting beside both of them too,” Ben shot back.

  Artie looked at Colette on his left, then at Emma Rose on his right, and threw up his hand. “I never noticed that.” He was pleased to see that Colette was smiling again. “I bought brownies, you know.”

  “Later,” Emma Rose groaned, “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “Neither can Sylvester,” Ben point out to Artie.

  “Fine,” Artie sneered. “By the way, Colette, what did you think of that article about your father?”

  The room suddenly fell silent. Both Emma Rose and Ben tried to silently warn Artie off the subject, but it was too late. He already had Colette’s attention.

  “What article?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Artie tried.

  “In the paper?” Colette asked.

  By then, Emma Rose was glaring at him. “Well, I thought she’d read it by now, everyone else has. They’re talking about it all over town.”

  Colette stared at Ben, “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Colette, its...” Ben tried.

  “Where did you leave the paper. Oh, I remember.” Colette hurried back into her father’s office, found the newspaper she’d shoved in the trash and pulled it out. The top of the paper was about her saving that baby from a hot car, but on the other half it said in bold print:

  STAR WITNESS IN FOWLER TRIAL DEAD AT 63.

  In Denver’s most sensational embezzlement trial, it was Davet Bouchard whose damaging testimony...

  Colette felt Ben put his arm around her. “What Fowler trial?” she asked as she skimmed the first two sentences. “Embezzlement?”

  “It was a long time ago,” Ben tried.

  Colette folded the paper back up. “I swear that man had more secrets than Fort Knox has gold bars. I am dizzy with trying to figure him out.” When they came into the room, she barely glanced at Emma Rose and Artie.

  “You didn’t know about the trial?” Artie asked.

  “Are you kidding?” Colette asked. “There’s a room upstairs I can’t even go into. Why would he tell me about something as important as being star witness in a trial?” Irritated, she shoved the paper back in the trash can. Almost in tears, she leaned against Ben and bowed her head. “Why did he hate me?”

  “He didn’t hate you,” Emma Rose said. “He loved you very much. I could see it in his eyes every time he talked about you.”

  Colette had to fight back her tears and walked off. “Well, he sure had a funny way of showing it to me.”

  Emma Rose followed Colette out of the room.

  Before Artie could leave, Ben grabbed his arm. He pulled the paper back out, tore off the article, and then handed it to Artie. “Hide it, or eat it, I don’t care which. She’s got enough to handle right now.”

  Obediently, Artie nodded, folded the article and then put it in his pants pocket. “You in love with her?”

  Ben didn’t answer, Instead, he followed the girls back to the table.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Emma Rose was saying. “You don’t get away with that, Missy Colette. Your father was one of the finest men I have ever know.”

  “To you, maybe,” Colette said as she plopped down in her chair and folded her arms in a huff.

  “To a lot of people, especially you,” Emma Rose argued as she too returned to her seat. “Look, I shouldn’t tell you this, but Dave had you watched when you ran off to Denver.”

  “Watched?”

  “You were just a bratty little kid in a world you didn’t know very much about – a dangerous world. He wanted you safe and he paid a bundle to keep you that way.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know because the bill came to the restaurant instead of the house and I mistakenly opened it. He didn’t say much about it, except that if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself.”

  “Really?”

  “Really?” Emma Rose said.

  Artie asked, “Okay, bratty little kid, whose deal is it?”

  Ben put his hand on Colette’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick the lock to the bedroom so you can see what’s inside.”

  “I bet its a 3000-year-old mummy,” Artie said.

  Colette giggled, “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “Or a million dollars,” Emma Rose put in. When Artie sat down, he rubbed his leg against hers and in return, she socked him hard in the arm.

  “Ouch! What’d you do that for?” Artie asked

  Emma Rose glowered. “Touch me again, and I truly will hurt you.”

  Pretending not to know what he did, he leaned down and looked under the table. “I thought it was Sylvester.”

  “I’m sure,” said Emma Rose.

  The rest of the evening was spent playing cards, eating brownies and keeping Colette company. When she started to yawn, Ben suggested they let her sleep. While he ushered Artie and Emma Rose out and took Sylvester home, she put the pizza in the fridge, turned off all the lights and went upstairs to bed.

  THE DAY BEFORE, EX-detective Andy Tucker checked into the hotel and then spent the remainder of the day getting to know the town, the location of Davet’s restaurant and the house. The next night, when he drove by the house, it looked like some teenagers were inside and there was no sign of Paige Fowler. He parked up the street, watched the house for a time and then called it a day. He ate dinner in the hotel restaurant and then went to the darkened bar for a nightcap. There were several empty tables, but he had questions and choose a swivel stool at the bar.

  “Rum and coke.”

  The lady bartender nodded and fixed his drink. When she set it in front of him, he said, “I’m hoping to do a little fishing while I’m here. Where’s the best spot.”

  “Well, you might try the base of Mt. Lankton. There are plenty of trout in the Lost Bell River and there is a dirt road that runs alongside it, but you should take a weapon. Sometimes the bears and a mountain lion or two come to the river, but the cats don’t usually come down this low.”

  “Thanks, I’ll give that a try.”

  “You come for the fishing or the funeral?” she asked.

  “Both. Do you happen to know when it is?”

  “Tomorrow at ten. Half the town will be there and so will I.”

  “You were a friend of Davet’s?”

  “Not a close friend - he didn’t drink much and didn’t come in here at all, but my husband and I ate at his restaurant plenty of tim
es. We always called him just plain Dave. I don’t think I ever knew his name was Davet until I read it in the paper. Makes sense though. He always said he was French,”

  “I’m really sorry to hear about the accident. The article in the paper didn’t give many details.”

  “Well, they say there was a witness. Dave was going up the mountain, a couple of kids were coming down too fast and hit him hard enough to push him off the cliff. To tell the truth, I hold my breath every time we go up that mountain. It is way too dangerous.” She paused to wait on a customer and then came back. “So, why do you call him Davet? Did you know him before?”

  “Many years ago.”

  “Then you know about the trial?”

  “Only what’s in the paper.”

  She leaned forward a little and grinned, “Tell the truth – you’re looking for the missing money too?”

  “Too? Who else is looking for it?”

  “Everyone in town, I suspect.”

  “Was Davet...Dave wealthy?”

  “We’ve been talking about that too. Dave was not three million dollars’ wealthy or we would have known about it. It looked to us like he just lived off of what he made at the restaurant.”

  “No fancy cars or vacations to Europe?”

  “Nope.” She paused to think for a moment. “He did take trips, but he always came back just a few days later. I don’t think he liked being away from his business and his daughter.”

  “Daughter?”

  “Uh huh, Colette.”

  Andy stared at his drink for a minute, “How old is Colette?”

  “Seventeen, I think. Maybe eighteen. Rumer is she got really mad at Dave and took off, but I hear she came back yesterday.”

  “What did she get mad about?”

  The bartender glanced around as if someone might hear her, “Well, I doubt it’s a secret, but Colette’s mother was a Cherokee and Dave never would tell her where her mother was. He wouldn’t even say if she was dead or alive. Colette finally demanded the truth and when he wouldn’t tell her, she took off.”

  Andy finished his drink, stood up and put some money on the bar. “Time for bed,” he said as he nodded and then headed for the lobby.

  His mind was running over all he knew about the case when he entered the elevator, got off on the third floor and went to his room. He believed Davet’s death probably was an accident, although Paige might have hired the boys to run him off the road. It was doubtful. If she found him and if she still wanted him dead, she would have done it herself just for the pleasure of it.

  Andy changed into his pajama bottoms and then climbed into bed. “A Cherokee?” he muttered. “What have you been up to all these years, old man?”

  THE NEXT MORNING, COLETTE took a long hot shower, dried her hair and put on her make up. She decided to wear her hair down, put on her black dress, chose black heels and a wide brimmed black hat. The first thing she noticed when she got to the front door was that someone had closed and locked it. She was certain she hadn’t and decided Ben must have. That’s when she noticed a light in the kitchen and one on an end table in the living room were on. She was positive she turned them off.

  “Ghosts,” she muttered as she turned the lights off and unlocked the front door. “Be advised, I cannot pay the light bill.” The painters weren’t outside, but maybe they didn’t start work early and she didn’t care anyway. At least the front of the house looked presentable.

  She was about to get in her pickup when Walt pulled up in the mortuary’s black limo. She stared at it for a moment, closed the truck door and when Walt opened the back door for her, she got in. Across the street, both cars were gone so she suspected Ben and his family were going to be there too. At least she wouldn’t be all alone.

  What she didn’t expect was the number of people waiting for her at the graveside. Wearing his white, full dress uniform, Ben came to open the limo door for her and helped her out. Being the perfect gentleman, he offered her his arm, escorted her to the only chair in front of the casket, and then took a position of support behind her. Soon Artie and Emma Rose came to stand on either side of her chair.

  Colette couldn’t help but glance around although she couldn’t see all of the people since they were all standing up and she was sitting down. Most of them she recognized but there were some she didn’t. Her attention was oddly drawn to an older woman standing near the end of the casket who kept staring at her. It made her feel so self-conscious, she barely heard what the minister was saying.

  It was hard to imagine that her father was in the casket. It was a nice casket too, made to look like polished wood on the outside and someone, she couldn’t imagine who, had paid for a large spray of flowers that covered the entire top of the coffin. She took a deep breath, glanced at the rude woman staring at her again, and then tried to pay attention as the minister said a final prayer.

  Colette did not cry. She wanted to and almost did, but she couldn’t – not in front of all those people. All she wanted was to go home and be alone for a while. It was not to be. People she knew and people she didn’t know started coming up to her. The first was the most shocking of all.

  “This is my son,” the woman explained nodding toward a young man who looked to be in his early teens. “Your father jumped in the river and saved his life.”

  Colette wrinkled her brow and kept it wrinkled while one after another, people told her how Dave had faithfully donated to The Red Cross, The Salvation Army, The Cancer Society and a few other charities she’d never even heard of. Soon, there were so many mentions of things her father had done for others, she lost count and the most she could do, was nod her appreciation to each for mentioning it.

  By the time she got back in the limo, she could hardly catch her breath – was the man they spoke of the same man who raised her or was he a perfect stranger? When Colette looked, everyone was gone except the old woman. Before the limo pulled away, she saw the woman kiss the tips of her gloved fingers and then touch his casket.

  Confused and overwhelmed, she could not imagine what that was all about and didn’t try. Instead, she asked Walt, “Is all that true?”

  “Is all what true?”

  “About him giving to charity and helping lots of people?”

  “It’s true - all that and a lot more. He paid what the insurance didn’t cover for little Fredrick’s kidney transplant and I’ll bet that cost a fortune. Remember when Ben broke his arm? Your dad paid for his doctor too.”

  “I never knew.”

  “I’m not surprised. Dave was a cantankerous old cuss sometimes, but he had a heart of gold when it came to people who were hurting. I don’t know how he came up with the money, but he managed it somehow. I always thought he listened to people talk in the restaurant and that’s how he knew who to help. Oh, some people were too proud, and when that happened, he came up with a way to buy something from them or let them work it off somehow.”

  Colette smiled. “So that’s why I rarely had to mow the grass.”

  “Or do laundry, refinish the floors, fix the roof...”

  “Okay, I get it. I guess he told me, I just wasn’t very good at listening.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I’ve been in this business a long time and most folks don’t know what their kin has been up to until after they pass.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to my mother, would you? He never told me.”

  “Nope, and I doubt he told anyone else or the whole town would know. That was his private life and he kept it that way.”

  “Someone must know. How do you keep a wife a secret in a town like this?”

  “Oh, she wasn’t a secret. She was already gone by the time Dave moved here. He never said, but I got the feeling she run off just like you did.”

  Colette felt a twinge of guilt but it passed quickly. “I could ask someone about her if I knew who to ask, but he always said he didn’t have any friends, just acquaintances.”

  “That’s probably true.”


  “Him and old Roy were good buddies, but Roy had a heart attack and died a couple of years after you moved here.”

  “I remember him, sort of.”

  “Your dad took it hard when Roy died, real hard.”

  She hadn’t notice that Walt was parked in front of her house, nor did she know how long they had been there. “A woman standing at the end of his casket kept staring at me during the service. Do you know who she is?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t notice.” He got out and opened the back door for her. “You going to try to find your mother?”

  “Probably not. She deserted me too.”

  “Yep, she did.” She had already started to walk away when he said, “Some things are better left unknown anyway.”

  Colette turned back to face him. “Let’s see, she was a prostitute, a drug addict, hated her husband, and ended up in prison. I can live with all that and worse. I’d just like to know something about her – anything at all.”

  Walt paused before he said, “Dave said you look just like her...if that helps.”

  Colette nodded and went in the house. Someday she might want to know more, but for now that was enough. She set her purse down, took off her hat, laid it on the table and then went into the downstairs bathroom. In the mirror, she looked at her face as if for the first time – “Do I truly look just like you?” she asked.

  Time and time again she told herself that obsessing over her mother wasn’t healthy, but she missed having a mother and felt cheated. Mother’s don’t just mysteriously disappear without someone knowing what happened – now the only one who could tell her was dead. It wasn’t fair.

  The answers were in that bedroom – they had to be.

  CHAPTER 6

  COLETTE HEARD A NOISE outside and was relieved to see it was only the painters. Glad for the time alone, she went upstairs, changed into more comfortable clothes and started back down the hallway. Just to be sure, she tried to open the door to the mystery bedroom. Naturally, it was still locked. Before the funeral, she decided to spend the afternoon collecting things for the yard sale. Being busy, she hoped, would keep her from thinking too much.