“Think back. Did your parents ever mention anything wrong? Did they ever talk about having problems with someone?” Tad asked.
I was about to answer when the outer bell on the reception desk rang. Tad motioned for me to hold that thought while he peeked out the inner door. We kept our main office locked, since we had tens of thousands of dollars of equipment in the storage room. And the storeroom also had a lock. Anyone wanting to steal anything would have to go through three sets of locks—the door to the outside, the inner door, and then the storeroom door.
When he returned, Millie was following him.
I sighed. “Hey, Millie. I was expecting you to call.”
“I was in the neighborhood, so I decided I might as well drop in. Are you in the middle of something that can’t be interrupted?”
I shook my head. “No, not yet. I was just telling them about the skeleton. So, what have you found out?”
“I set the ME on a rush with this. What we know so far: your skeleton was male. It looks like he died to an odd blow to the skull. The ME is still trying to figure out what might have killed him. It looks like a blunt instrument, but the only thing he can come up with so far is possibly a hoe. That seems odd, given he was found inside, but it’s preliminary, of course.”
“Could it have been a fall?” I asked.
“Possibly, but if it was, why didn’t they notify the police—they being whoever found the body. And if he fell, it would have to be backward onto something. Until the ME’s done, we’re holding off on labeling it as a homicide.” She let that sink in for a moment. “So, first, I have to ask you—do you know when the room was boarded up?”
“I told you last night—it had to be after I left for college.” I frowned.
“I know you did, but now I’m asking officially. Please don’t get defensive.” Millie pulled out a digital recorder. “Do you mind if I record this? It makes it easier.”
“That’s fine,” I said, realizing that I was mainly worried that she’d label my parents as murderers. And that was a thought I couldn’t even entertain at this point.
“Millicent Tuptin, chief of police for Moonshadow Bay. This meeting is being recorded on September 15. January Jaxson, do you agree to your answers being recorded?”
I sighed. “Yes, I’m January Jaxson and I agree.”
“Thank you. Now, do you remember when the room off your library was boarded up?”
“As I said, the room had to have been boarded up after I graduated from college and left the area. I do remember it was still there when I came home on the weekends from college. So…sometime after…let’s see…sometime after I turned twenty-two, I’d say. Which would make it around 2002.”
“When’s the last time you remember going in the storage area before yesterday?”
I paused, trying to recall if I’d ever been in there. Then a faint memory crept back. “My mother stored paint in there at one time. I remember one time—I was about seven. My mother asked me to get her the white paint from the storage space so she could touch up a smear on the wall in the kitchen. Actually, several grungy spots throughout the house where we had smashed spiders and flies and so forth. She gave me the keys and told me to hurry.”
“Do you remember if there was anything else in the room besides the paint?” Millie’s voice was steady and reassuring.
I tried to think back, but the memory was hazy. But then an image floated by. “I think…there was an old piano in there. I don’t remember us ever using it, so maybe it was there when my folks bought the house? That’s the last time I remember going in there. After that, my mother and father warned me against it—Dad threatened my allowance if I was caught in there. They kept it locked, but I guess since I’d seen the inside once, the mystery lost its appeal.” I paused. “Being so protective about a storage room doesn’t seem quite normal, is it?”
“I’m not an expert, but it does seem odd to me,” Millie said. “When did that start? Keeping you out of the room?”
I strained, trying to remember. After a moment, I shook my head. “Oh, since I was a little girl. Even back when I was…I think about three or four? I don’t remember being too curious about it—it was what it was, you know? The house was mine to play in, except for that room, and I knew better than to take a chance. My parents were fair and loving, but if they told me not to do something and found out I’d broken the rules, they could be pretty harsh. They didn’t hurt me or anything like that, but I remember being grounded for a month one time when I lied to my mother about skipping school one afternoon. It wasn’t even an important class.”
I paused, worrying my lip until a thought hit me. “Maybe I was so careful because I thought that’s where they hid the presents. Yule and birthdays were always important in our family. You did not search for presents before the holiday. Once my mother caught my father looking at one of the gifts she’d bought him, and boy, did the sparks fly. He ended up sleeping in the library for a week. It had been a fishing pole and tackle box he had wanted for a long time, and he spoiled the surprise when he found it.”
Tad cocked his head. “Your family was kind of weird, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“My family has traditions,” I said, shrugging. “But that has to be it—I got it into my head that they were storing gifts in there and I didn’t want to get in trouble. And if I’d stolen the key from my parents, that would have made it doubly bad.”
“That makes sense in an odd way. Kids often have a slanted way of thinking about things.” Millie stared at her notebook. “So, did your parents ever comment on anything happening—anything odd, or dangerous, or that troubled them?”
I thought back to our conversations over the years, trying to pinpoint any time when I felt myself worrying about them. There had been colds and a broken bone or two, and the news when family members were sick. But nothing stood out. Then another thought crossed my mind.
“You might check with the contractors they used to renovate the kitchen and master bath. The work was done about five or six years ago. I’m not sure who they used, but I can find out. The contractors might remember drywalling over the room. And you can ask my aunt Teran—she was in town all those years. She might remember something.” I shrugged. “That’s about it.”
Millie paused the recording as a call came in for her. As she excused herself, I took the opportunity to eat my breakfast sandwich. Hank, Caitlin, and Tad were all patiently waiting. I was just finishing the last bite when Millie returned to the table. She started the recorder again.
“We might have something,” she said. “Do you remember, back in 1994, your mother or father saying anything about a prowler?”
I stiffened. “A prowler? No…I would have been fourteen that year. Why?”
“Apparently we have a file they opened back then, with a complaint that a prowler was trying to break into the house. The reports were logged in late June, early July 1994.” Millie consulted her notes. “I can access the files if you want to know the details.”
Someone had been trying to break into the house? I thought back to that time period.