Three Keys One Body

It has been five years since my trip back in time. I have yet to return to the world of the angels, but that does not mean that they have not come to me. Too many times to count an angel most often a newly trained one would visit me. I never knew when they were coming, except they only showed up when Christina was gone. Most often or not they would scribble out some cryptic message on my full-length mirror, making just enough noise for me to notice that they had been there. I am not sure why they wait until Christina leaves. When I ask her she just shrugs her shoulders and changes the topic. 

Christina now "Lives" with me even though her work as a guardian keeps her running back and force between our cottage and who knows where. My dad had died the same year I went back in time. Right after he died Christina appeared looking very much like she did in the headquarters photo. She was in the flesh literally and somehow had gotten the government to give her full custody of me. 

So I know have an angel for a mother. And have lost my ability to astral project, which is why I have not gone back to the world of the angels. Seems like a fair trade since I got my own angel in return. Except that every time I try to remember my trip to the past it gets harder and harder. 

Luckily I have the clues other angels have given me. I copy them off the mirror onto a piece of scrap paper and hide the paper in a secret place. I pray Christina will not find them. 

"I will start with the clues Tom left behind. I have lost my memories of that time. 

What I did is like a vague dream. With only wee moments reviled to me. "

I luckily was told during my first visit from an angel what Laurie’s full name was. She was called Maria Lorraine Goodman Morris. Tom was the only one who ever called her Laurie, the note went on. It also said that Tom’s real name was Taylor Owen Morris. And TOM had been his nickname since birth.

After reading that first letter I went online and searched for those two names via “yourUShistory.kod” I could only get a scrap of information without having to give the website 100 dollars and the promise of my firstborn. But I did find out that TOM or Taylor Morris was born in Louisiana and died on March 17th 1999 in Ft. Lauderdale Florida. His obituary went on to say “That he was proceeded in death by his first wife Maria and his daughter Piper.” Wait a minute! Piper? When did I die? And more importantly, when did I become his daughter? “He is remembered by his wife of 53 years Cassandra Goodman. Their daughter Christina Marie. Son Caleb. His grandsons Armand (Laurel) Timothy (Kate), and granddaughter Piper Anne (John). Funeral services will be held at Saint Patricks Cathedral 1013 Beach Drive at noon on March 25th. Visitation will begin at 9am on the same day.”

The rest of the obituary was cut off with an incisive “more” button. When I pressed said button, the screen immediately asked for my payment or sign in information. Oh well, I thought. I have already gotten more then I needed. It did show a couple photos of TOM including one with him and Laurie! I was so shocked by the sight of her staring back at me from the screen that I felt dizzy and blacked out. When I came to, the following words where written over the now torn photo of her and TOM.

“A sepia photo. A couple, torn in two by death, and a lie spawned from him to you. 

With words on the back showing a clue, the key to where the body might be. And the journey that beckons for your need.”

As soon as I read those words out loud I felt something fall from the upstairs loft railing and hit me on the head. It was a key, an ordinary-looking but old door key. I had found it while antique shopping last week. The dealer said it was most likely American made during the turn 1900s. I immediately bought it, though I was not sure why, except that it felt very hot in my hand. So hot that I was not surprised that the part of my hand where the key had been was now very red. Neither was the antique dealer who upon noticing that I noticed his lack of surprise, gave me the secret signal to announce that he was, in fact, a guardian. I smiled laid two one-pound note on his table and walked away with the key now burning in my skirt pocket. 

Historical Society Clue One

The following clue was given to me in a yellow envelope with the help of a plump grey-haired woman averaging about 80 years of age. The envelope simply said “Piper Malone, C1 from Beatrice Brown”

Here is how it happened. While AC went to find some cute lifeguard to engage with and ventured over to the nearby historical society with Tom’s key in hand. Not really quite sure why I had to

bring the key, just that I needed it for if nothing else luck. I certainly had no idea was I was going to do when I got to the historical society, but it seemed like a grand place to start.

When I first met the mentioned grey-haired lady she was outside sitting in a rocking chair looking half asleep. She nodded her head to me as I went in. A few moments later she came in and when I saw her sit behind the main desk, I figured I should ask her. So I went up and asked if she had any information about Dr and Mr Timothy (that is Tom’s real name. His middle name is Owen and his last of course is Morris. That is how he got the nickname TOM.) Morris. Before I could even bat an eyelash she put her fingers to her lips to “shush” me, while at the same time looked around to make sure no one heard me. There was no one else in the whole building that I could see. Besides I was asking about long time dead people, not drugs. Though from the way she acted you would have thought they were just as bad.

Never saying a word she got up and motioned for me to follow. We walked in silence through the “Staff Only” door, down a narrow musty hall dimly lit, and filled floor to ceiling with boxes that showed more age than my guide. Finely after a few twist and turns, along with some near misses with boxes that had moved themselves on to the makeshift path. We came to a room with a door numbered 2100 just like on Tom’s key. “I assume you have the key”, she said more to the door then to me. I pulled it out of my knapsack and started to hand it to her, but she backed away as if it had suddenly turned into a snake. “You open it”, she said coldly. “I want no more to do with this”. With her last word she turned and walked away. “Part of what” I wondered as I turned the key and unlocked the door, which opened into a tiny poorly painted white closet with bare shelves. Well almost bare, sitting propped up by the back of the wall was a very yellow and very very musty smelling envelope. The must smell was so strong I could not stop sneezing. I had to hold it at arm's length while opening it with shaking hands. I was so

terrified that it would just fall apart at any moment. Inside was a not so yellow, but still quite musty piece of paper. Like the one from Tom’s lawyer, this paper was also torn. This time however the letter was from Laurie’s niece. Here is what she wrote.

“All think my aunt was buried at sea, but a different truth I shall tell to thee. In a world they think not to go, we have hidden her from friend and foe. A place her eyes never did see, except in dreams of thee. “

“Great!” I thought.“Just what we need another poet who gives weird clues”. I turned the note over and found a travellers check for 1000.00 simply made out to “Cash”. Hum, I wonder if they still even cash these things” I said to my self as I examined the letter again. That is when I found in a very tiny script the words. “Head to Miami”

“Miami!!” Laurie is in Miami” AC nearly screamed those words after she read the note. Suddenly she pulled out her phone and started searching the internet for directions to Miami.

While she was looking I noticed another key. This one was so very small that if I had not felt the weight of its brass making, I would have missed it altogether. I quickly took a picture of it that I sent to the MyBook group Memories. Almost immediately one of their antique experts said that it was a skeleton key for a type urn called a “Coffin Box” “They were very popular in the 1940s” he also added in his IM. “How appropriate” I could not help think as I wrote him a quick thank you IM. I then began another search this time using PicKode. I was searching for pictures of coffin boxes and boy did I find them. I felt an icy chill pass over me when I saw one that had been painted black with a red medical cross on the lid.

My mind immediately flashed back over 60 years to when I had seen that exact same box in real life. The night I found Tom filling it with sand. “But he had glued the lid shut. Why would he need a key?” Where just a few of the questions fighting for space in my head at that moment.

It seemed as if the longer I was in Florida the more mysterious this whole thing became.