Chapter 3 - THE LOCKED ROOM
Margaret asked Emily to stay in the mansion overnight.
Emily hesitated.
“I have a small apartment. I can go home.”
“You are not leaving until we understand what happened to your mother.”
“Why do you care now?”
The question hurt Margaret, but she did not turn away.
“Because if you are Eleanor’s daughter, then I lost you both. I cannot
change what happened. I can only refuse to look away again.”
Emily studied her face.
She wanted to believe her. But trust did not arrive simply because
someone wore diamonds and spoke gently.
Margaret arranged a guest room on the second floor. Before Emily went
upstairs, she asked the housekeeper, Mrs. Alvarez, whether there had
once been a room belonging to Eleanor.
The older woman froze.
“There is,” she said. “But Mr. Richard ordered it locked years ago.”
“Can you show me?”
Mrs. Alvarez glanced toward the staircase.
“I shouldn’t.”
Margaret appeared behind them.
“Show her.”
The room was at the end of a quiet corridor. A brass nameplate had been
removed from the door, leaving two small holes in the wood. Margaret
used a key from her dressing table.
Inside, dust covered the furniture. A pale blue bedspread remained
neatly tucked. Books lined the shelves. A music box sat on the desk.
Margaret stood at the threshold.
“I haven’t been inside since the week Eleanor disappeared.”
Emily walked slowly around the room.
On the wall hung a faded photograph of a young girl with dark hair and a
blue ribbon. She was wearing the same necklace.
Emily touched the frame.
“That’s my mother.”
Margaret nodded.
“She was seventeen.”
Emily opened the music box. A soft, uneven melody played. Beneath the
velvet lining was a folded piece of paper.
It contained a list of names and dates. At the bottom, someone had
written:
If anything happens, ask Thomas Vale about the west gate.
Margaret read it twice.
“Thomas was my husband’s driver.”
“Is he still alive?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked uneasy.
“He lives in a care home in Monterey. Mr. Richard pays for it.”
Margaret turned sharply.
“Richard pays for his care?”
“He has for years.”
Margaret took out her phone.
“Find his address.”
A noise sounded in the corridor.
Emily looked up.
The door had begun to close.
Mrs. Alvarez hurried to it, but it stopped against something outside. A
moment later, the door opened again.
A young security guard stood there.
“Mrs. Whitmore, Mr. Richard says you need to come downstairs.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Tell my son I will come when I am ready.”
The guard hesitated.
“He said it was urgent.”
“Then he can wait.”
The guard left.
Emily looked at the paper again.
“Why would your son pay for the old driver?”
Margaret’s face was troubled.
“Because Thomas may know what happened to Eleanor.”
May you like
She folded the note and placed it in her pocket.
“Tomorrow, we are going to Monterey.”
