To Key or Not To Key by Sheri McComb

A woman stood on the sidewalk in front of a burned-out structure on Seventh Avenue. She was plain, nondescript, forgettable. Average height and build, brown hair, dressed conservatively. She was holding the leash of a small, yappy dog. She pulled sharply on the leash.

           “Spencer!” she said to the dog. “Stop the barking.” The dog looked up at her and tilted his head to the right, looking at her. “Good doggy,” she said to him. They both looked at the place where the Sampson house had once stood. 

           The Sampsons were a family that had been in Atlanta for generations, as plantation owners they’d grown cotton for many years. The present-day Sampsons had lived on this property for decades, in a beautiful Victorian mansion. It was beautiful no more. The tall two-story structure was now just a shell. 

           “Come on, Spencer,” the woman said. She gingerly stepped over fallen timbers and picked her way through the rubble. She had to bend down and scoop up the dog, who was too small to step over some of the larger pieces of wood. This was how David Sampson found her when he pulled up in his dark blue Lexus. It was a sporty model and very expensive. As David stepped out of the car, he spotted the woman.

           “Hey, you there!” he called to her. “What do you think you’re doing?” He strode up the walkway to where she was bending over looking at something. 

           She looked up at him calmly. She didn’t say anything, just stood up and stared at him.

           “I said, what are you doing?” David asked angrily. “This is my property. This is my home.” This wasn’t exactly the truth as David had not actually lived in the house, but he wasn’t about to share that with this stranger.

           She stepped over the rubble and joined him on the walk. She put the tiny dog down and gave David a look that he couldn’t quite read. 

           “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said and brushed by him. He watched her back as she and the dog walked down the street. 

           Weird, he thought. He shook his head and turned back to look at what was formerly his grandfather’s home. The old man had died from smoke inhalation in the fire that was said to be started by a faulty electric fan that had run nonstop because the old man was too cheap to run the air conditioning. David hadn’t been close to his grandparents. His grandmother had died when he was a little boy and his grandfather had never remarried. David’s parents had raised him in Seattle, where he and his sister Callie had lived until their parents died in a car accident. The siblings had no other living relatives except for their grandfather who was now not living either. There had been no will, so the estate had passed into David and Callie’s hands. David, up until this week, had lived in Portland, Oregon. Callie lived in Phoenix, but had flown into Atlanta to help David settle the estate. Callie intended to go back to her life in Phoenix, but David had decided to take up residence in Atlanta. He had a reason for this, but he didn’t share it with his sister. She didn’t have to know everything.

           David walked around the burnt site, hearing glass crunch under his shoes. He walked to the back of the house where his grandfather’s den had been. David had visited this house many times with his parents and remembered the layout. When he and Callie were children, they, along with their parents would fly in to visit their grandfather at least once a year. They all stayed in the guest wing of the rambling old mansion. It had seemed like a castle to them when they were kids, running through the halls laughing. Their grandfather had been hard to get along with and their father had butted heads with his father many times. Their mother had had to play peacemaker with her husband and his crotchety father. It didn’t make for a pleasant visit for the adults, but the kids were oblivious as kids often are. David remembered a conversation he’d overheard between his parents during one such visit. Callie, as the younger of the two, had been taking a nap and missed the exchange. David’s parents had no idea that their son, who had been looking for his Gameboy, was now under the very bed that they were sitting on, listening to them talking about a very interesting subject.

           “Don,” David heard his mother say. “You don’t even know if it exists. Maybe your mother was just trying to get you stirred up.”

           David saw his father’s feet moving as Don stood up and paced the room. “It exists. I know it does.” His father sounded upset. 

           “Where do you think it is?” asked his mother. “Is it here in the house?” 

           David was very curious as to what “it” they were referring to. 

           “My mother was very specific. She said her father left it to her. She had it in some sort of a jewelry box or something.” His feet stopped pacing. “She never told my father about it. She wanted me to have it, but she died before she could tell me where it is. She did tell me one thing,” he continued. “It’s locked up tight and there’s a key somewhere in this house. It’s an odd shaped silver key. She used to wear it around her neck. She must have enjoyed having it right under my father’s nose, and him not knowing what it was.”

           “Don,” my mother said, sounding like she’d had this same conversation over and over again. “We’ve never found any key, or jewelry box for that matter. We look every time we visit and it’s always the same thing. We turn up nothing, and you get frustrated. Maybe you should just let it go.”

           “Let it go?” David heard his father say incredulously. “It’s worth nearly a million dollars! Do you realize what that could do for us? We’d never have to worry about money again.”

           His mother answered with a dreamy voice. “It would be sweet. How do you know that your father didn’t already find it?” she asked.

           “My father would have mentioned it if he’d found it,” David’s dad said. “We just need to find the box and the key. The only place we haven’t looked is in Dad’s study.”

           His mother said, “Well we leave tomorrow morning. Your father’s study is locked up. How are we going to search it?”

           David’s father answered resignedly. “I suppose we’ll have to wait til we come back at Christmas. Maybe one of us can get Dad out of the house while the other one looks.”

           David was brought back to the present when he heard a honk behind him. He turned around and saw his sister getting out of a yellow cab. She turned and paid the driver, who drove away.

           “Hey, big brother! Long time no see,” she said walking up to him. They weren’t the hugging sort so they both stood there awkwardly until Callie turned to the house and said, “Wow, it’s really gone.” They looked at the charred remains of their grandfather’s house. 

           “Were you looking for something?” Callie asked David. “When I pulled up, I mean.”

           “No, just wandering through,” David lied. He’d been looking for the jewelry box and the silver key. “Where are you staying?” he asked his sister. 

           “I’m at the Hilton on Crown Street,” she said. “And you?”

           “I’m at the True B&B,” he answered. “Until I get settled. I’m looking at apartments this week.” 

           “When is the meeting with grandfather’s lawyer?” Callie asked. 

           “Tomorrow at 9:00. We can go over together if you want. I’ll pick you up around 8:30.”

David looked at his watch. “Can I drop you off at your hotel? Maybe we can meet for dinner later.”

           Callie shook her head no. “I have dinner plans with Sara Jane,” she said. “Remember her? From school? She always had a crush on you. Want to join us?” Callie raised an eyebrow.

           David remembered the red-haired Sara with thick glasses who had followed him around like a puppy dog. Thinking of puppy dogs made David remember the odd woman who was here when he pulled up. Who was she?

           “No thanks,” he answered his sister. “I’ll run you to the hotel though.” They climbed into his fancy car and drove off.

           After dropping his sister off, David went back to the burn site. He had changed into jeans and work boots. He also had heavy gloves to protect his hands from glass and nails. He was going to find that box. He went to where the den used to be and began sifting through things. Most of it was burned beyond recognition, but he saw the big metal paper weight his father had made his grandfather in grade school, so he knew he was in the right place. For an hour and a half David searched. He had covered every square inch of the space and came up empty handed. He mopped sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove. He tried to remember if the woman he’d seen, the one with the dog, had been holding anything, like a jewelry box. He couldn’t remember.  It had just been so odd how she’d been there looking around. He decided to try again tomorrow after the meeting with the attorney.

           David picked up his sister the next morning and they drove to the lawyer’s office. The secretary offered them coffee, but they both declined. When their grandfather’s attorney came out of his office smiling, they stood up and all shook hands.  He had grey hair and looked old enough to be their grandfather’s age.

           “Come on in,” he motioned them. They followed him into his office which was all wood and glass. “This won’t take long,” he said. He handed them both a two-page document. “Basically, you both need to sign and I give you the deed,” he said. “I’ve spoken to the insurance agent for the property and he’s agreed to meet with you tomorrow, if you’re free. It sounds like a pretty simple deal.”

           After signing the documents Callie and David stood and again shook hands with the attorney who promised to be in touch. He told them how sorry he was about their loss. People always said the same things when someone died. The siblings thanked him and walked out to David’s car.

           “I have plans today with Sara Jane and some of the girls we ran around with,” Callie said. “I’m free for dinner if you want to meet.” 

           David nodded.  Perfect. He would have the rest of the day to sleuth. “Sounds good. I’ll call you later.” He dropped her back at the hotel and had an idea. Maybe the attorney would know who the woman was who’d been snooping around the burned down house. He drove back to the lawyer’s office and stepped inside. The secretary was away from her desk and he could see the attorney sitting at his desk. The man smiled and came to the doorway.

           “Forget something?” he asked helpfully.

           “In a manner of speaking,” David answered. “I have an odd question. Yesterday when I got to Grandfather’s house there was a woman lurking around. She had a little barking dog. She was strange and seemed out of place.”

           The lawyer was nodding. “Brown hair, glasses, about 50?” he asked. “That’s Clara Rose. She is an odd duck. That’s curious that she’d be there. Are you sure she wasn’t just walking the dog? She lives near there.”

           David’s heart surged with hope. “Where? I’d just like to know.” 

           “She lives on the other side of the street about four houses down, towards the park. She was actually your grandmother’s hairdresser. Used to go to the house and do her hair every week. Your grandmother was very particular about her hair.” He smiled at David. 

           David was already heading out the door. “Thanks!” he called over his shoulder. He was going to pay Clara Rose a visit.

           He pulled up in front of the house he believed was Clara Rose’s. He locked his car and bounded up the driveway. He was just getting ready to knock on the door when he heard barking next door. He looked over and could see the fenced in yard and the yappy dog from yesterday. He was at the wrong house. He walked next door shaking his head at the dog who continued to bark. He knocked at the front door and soon it was opened by the strange woman from the day before. 

           She didn’t speak, just ushered him inside. She closed the door behind him and he looked around curiously. There were heads everywhere the eye could see. At first, he thought he had wandered into a serial killer’s lair but then he realized they were wigs sitting on stands. Curly, straight, long, short, red, brown, blond, there were dozens of all different kinds of hair. He looked at Clara Rose and she was just standing there looking at him. 

           She didn’t explain about the wigs, just said, “Sit. I’ll get tea.” She disappeared and then reappeared with a tray of cookies and a teapot with two tiny teacups. She set the tray down and poured the tea then sat back in her chair. She looked at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, she spoke.

           “Well? You came to me.”

           David cleared his throat. “You knew my grandparents?” he asked. “My grandmother? You did her hair, I mean.” David bit into a cookie. It was surprisingly delicious and he nodded appreciatingly. 

           “Yes, I did. Is there some reason you’re here? I have a client I need to see in an hour.”

           David looked around again. “You live here alone?” His eyes were traveling all over the room. “Nice house,” he said, unconvincingly.

           “Why are you really here?” Clara Rose asked. “You can tell me.”

           “Okay,” David rushed to get the words out. “You were at the house site yesterday and I just wondered if you’d, umm, taken anything.” His cheeks were red with embarrassment. This was very awkward.

           Clara Rose put her cup down. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” she said. “I don’t know what you could be talking about. I was walking my Spencer, that’s all.” Just then Spencer came running into the room barking incessantly. There must have been a doggie door that allowed him to go in and out as he pleased. She scooped him up so he couldn’t run out the front door.

           “Well then, I guess I’ll be going,” David said walking out. He didn’t even notice the odd shaped silver key that was hanging from Spencer’s collar. Nor did he notice that the tray of tea and cookies was sitting on top of a jewelry box with a keyhole just waiting to be opened.