A faint chuckle sounded through the receiver. Aiden waited impatiently for Dorminy to get to the point.
“Anyway, last week the workmen found a secret compartment in the wall behind that old coal furnace. Hidden inside was a small safe. It has a very unusual lock. A note was found atop the safe, a note addressed to you from your father. It says that the safe is yours and that you possess the key to opening it.”
Aiden’s interest notched upward. He imagined newfound wealth, perhaps a family treasure concealed decades ago. But what sort of key was his father referring to?
“I’m sorry it took a while to get hold of you. Irene and I aren’t too computer savvy. We don’t know much about using the Internet to track people down. I gave your name to our grandson and he found this phone number. Southeastern Pennsylvania, right?”
“Birdsboro. Can you ship the safe down here?” Aiden asked. “Naturally, I’d pay the freight charges.”
There was hesitation at the other end of the line. Aiden wondered if George Dorminy expected a reward. Or maybe he was simply curious and wanted to see the safe opened in his presence.
But Dorminy had an altogether different concern.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea. You see, there’s more to the note. It says the safe is booby-trapped and that any attempt to open it by someone other than you will, and I quote, ‘result in the triggering of a tamper-proof self-destruct mechanism.’ After I read that, I decided it was best not to jar it around too much.”
Aiden smiled. His father had been an engineer and dedicated home tinkerer, and was certainly capable of designing such a protective device. But Dad also possessed a sharp sense of humor and was a big fan of James Bond-style intrigue.
In all likelihood, the booby trap warning was simply a way to discourage potential thieves. And even if the safe was rigged, his father never would have designed it to pose a danger to anyone.
“You want me to come up there.”
“I think that would be best.”
Aiden promised to call back as soon as he’d made travel arrangements.
“Oh, one more thing,” Dorminy said. “The last line of the note says, and again I quote, ‘The contents of this safe will change your life.’”
FOUR
Aiden left Friday morning for New Hampshire. He’d offered to wait another day until the weekend so the three of them could make the trip together, but Darlene insisted he needed to do this alone. There’d been something odd in her tone, something hinting that she knew more about the mysterious safe than she was letting on.
Aiden had flown a few times in his life but had never felt comfortable in planes. He imagined drifting off to sleep and manifesting a chunkie, which would get caught in some piece of vital control wiring above or below the passenger cabin, sending the plane into a death spiral. Whenever possible he avoided flying.
He didn’t want to drive all the way either, which left Amtrak the best option. He drove his old Chevy Malibu to Philadelphia and caught the early morning Acela Express from 30th Street Station, paying for first-class travel with his credit card. Whatever the safe contained certainly would offset the expense. His plan was to take care of business with the Dorminys, stay in a motel overnight and catch a morning train back to Philly.
The express eased into Boston’s South Station shortly before noon. An hour or so later, a rented Hyundai Sonata brought him to the southeast corner of New Hampshire.
He lowered the window, felt a dash of surprisingly cool air against his face. Even though it was May, the weather up here tended to cling to the past, hanging onto wintery chills longer than Pennsylvania.
Childhood memories flooded back as he cruised into the small town of Exeter and onto Water Street. He recognized stores he’d haunted as a youngster, some unchanged since he’d last been here. Driving past the circular bandstand near the center of town triggered thoughts of Mom. She’d been a big supporter of the brass band that performed there and had dragged Aiden along to more than a few concerts.
He continued north, out of town. It took twenty minutes to reach the tree-shaded driveway that curved into his former home.
The old stone farmhouse occupied a small tract shielded on three sides by forest. Decades past, it had been a working farm. Most of the original acreage had been sold off well before his parents had moved here when he was a baby.
He parked beside a vintage Chrysler Imperial and headed up the flagstone path to the familiar white door. Another memory skated into view. He was maybe seven or eight, helping a teenaged Darlene shovel the driveway after a massive snowfall. Suddenly, the two of them had been attacked by Dad, who pelted them from his latest workshop invention, a toy rifle that machine-gunned tiny snowballs. The memory of the impromptu battle, including a counterassault organized by Darlene, remained as warm as that day had been cold.
George Dorminy opened the door on the first ring. He’d aged considerably since their last encounter and walked with a cane. Tall and slim, he had thinning white hair. But his handshake remained firm and his demeanor gracious.
“Irene and I are just sitting down to lunch. We insist you join us.”
The kitchen had been remodeled. Gray marble had replaced his parents’ old Formica countertops. Irene Dorminy, short, plump and beaming with pleasure, ushered him to the table and doled out clam chowder and sandwiches.
Aiden was hungry and dug in. The three of them chatted amicably while they ate. The Dorminys oohed and aahed as he displayed wallet photos of Darlene and Leah.
“I guess you’re anxious to see the safe,” George Dorminy said, downing a trio of pills with his last gulp of water. Balancing himself with the cane, he walked toward the door to the backyard. Aiden was surprised their destination wasn’t the basement.
“That business about the self-destruct mechanism was a bit worrisome,” he explained. “I had our grandson carry the safe out to the shed. He was extremely careful not to jar it, just in case.”
Aiden followed him along the brick path bisecting the neatly trimmed lawn. Irene called out to them from the door.
“Try not to blow yourselves up.”
The shed was new. Made of cedar boards with a shingled roof and nestled against the tree line, it fit the property’s rustic tone. A pair of windows flanked the door, providing enough natural light to reveal a small lawn tractor, gardening tools, and filled trash bags.
The safe squatted atop an old wooden desk in the corner. Aiden pulled out the matching chair and sat down. Dorminy perched on a stool behind him.
“Actually, I wasn’t too worried about us blowing up,” Dorminy said with a chuckle. “Putting it out here was mainly for Irene’s peace of mind.”
The safe was about fifteen inches high and eight inches deep. It looked to be made of burnished steel. Dorminy had described the lock after Aiden had called back with the details of his arrival. The man was certainly right about its unusual nature.
The mechanism protruding from the door consisted of a pair of old-time rotary phone dials, the upper one black, the lower one red. The original door handle had been removed and its opening plugged. Aiden knew at a glance that the modifications were his father’s handiwork.
He withdrew the dusty note from the envelope atop the safe. It was typewritten except for his father’s signature in ink. The note contained nothing of relevance that Dorminy hadn’t already mentioned. In addition to the self-destruct warning, it spelled out his name and said he possessed the key to opening the safe.