Chapter 20
Today is Monday, and I have my appointment with Dr. Kowalski. Nothing much happened this weekend. Roy was here all the time, so I never got the opportunity to search his office. He did ask me if I’d canceled his appointment with his lawyer on that Friday.
“What lawyers?” I said, head tilted.
He shook his head impatiently. “Allen they were still in her vanity when I moved in. If they caused a skin problem…”
He crosses his hands over his desk. “I had an idea as to what was causing her condition. And I’d ordered some tests, she was supposed to come back, but I never saw her again.
But I can assure you, her…condition had nothing to do with the products she was using, so you’re quite safe.
And if I may, Mrs. Davies, while I appreciate your concern for the late Mrs. Davies, it’s Dr. Davies you should be talking to, not me.
I can’t disclose anything private I discussed with Mrs. Davies, and your husband will be much better informed about his late wife than I ever will. ”
Dr. Kowalski is right. Roy is the only person with that information. How to get it out of him? I have no idea.
I think back to the letter I found in his office, the one from Vee. There must be others in those boxes. I wonder if she knew what was happening to Deb? And then, something terrible occurs to me. They had plans. Maybe she discussed them in those letters.
Roy isn’t home yet. Marie must be in the house somewhere because the back door is ajar. I close it, then listen. Silence. She could be upstairs in her rooms, or in the laundry doing the ironing. This house is big enough to get lost in.
I just need to find the letters and walk out, that’s all. No need to linger. I unlock the door and go straight for the bottom cupboard. I pull out the box and reach for the yellow notepad that had the letter between the pages. I shake it loose.
The letter’s not there. I put everything back in a hurry, and in the dark, so the letter must have slipped out.
I search the box but it’s not there, and there are no other letters that I can find. I pull out the box next to it but that one only contains old financial statements.
I open another drawer and rummage through those boxes, but it’s not there either.
I check the drawers on the other side. My heart is racing.
I’m opening the very last box when I hear the front door open.
My heart does a backflip. Roy might have bought my story that he left the door open once, but twice?
I work quickly, pushing boxes back in, closing drawers…but it’s too late.
The door opens, with me on my knees in front of the shelving drawers.
“Roy! You’re home!” I cry, trying to come across as deliriously happy and sounding more like some kind of manic parakeet.
Except it’s not Roy, it’s Marie. She comes to stand in the doorway. She’s got her coat on and a brown paper bag of groceries in her arms.
“Mrs. Davies.” She looks surprised, obviously, one eyebrow raised. “Did you lose something? Can I help you look for it?”
She doesn’t sound like she wants to help me look for anything. She sounds like she knows exactly what I’m doing.
I push myself upright. “Did you just come home?”
“Yes. We ran out of lemons.” She shoots me a look. Like it’s my fault we ran out of lemons. Actually, it probably is. I use lemons in everything. Even cleaning products. “And paper towels,” she continues, “and some other things.”
“You left the back door open,” I say.
She smirks. “I don’t think so. I am extremely security conscious. Dr. Davies always insists on doors and windows being locked. I make it a point of pride to—”
“Yes, yes, fine. I believe you.” I don’t, but I’m not going to win this battle. “Thank you, Marie.”
A beat. “It’s Marrrieee….”
After Marie leaves, I return to my search.
Will she tell Roy? I don’t know, but I can’t think about that right now.
I’m too upset that Roy hid the letter from Veronica.
I have to wonder if he did it because he found me inside his office, because he thinks I’ve been going through his drawers.
Or maybe I put it in the wrong place, he found it and put it somewhere secure.
I need that letter, even if it’s the only one, because that is something I can take to the police. There, I’ll say. Case closed? Open and shut? You’re sure about that? Because I bet you didn’t know Roy had an affair, and not only that, but they couldn’t wait to be together.
And then I glance at the safe.
Of course, he put it in the safe! That’s what I would have done. Unfortunately, I don’t know the combination. I have this urge, this eagerness to break it open. I bet that everything I ever looked for in this house is in there. God knows it’s not anywhere else.
I study it. It’s a digital safe with a keypad.
I run my fingers over it. What passcode would I pick if that was mine?
Easy. I have a cell phone that came with a default passcode of 0000 and I never changed it.
Not because I didn’t know how to, but because I couldn’t be bothered.
I’ve never had any privacy in my life. I just assume everybody will read everything anyway.
I type it in 0000, then press Enter.
The panel lights up. Incorrect passcode.
All right, no problem. It’s only my first try. I try Roy’s birthday. 4982.
Incorrect passcode.
I try Roy’s birth year. 1982
Incorrect passcode
How many more attempts do I have before this whole thing locks itself up for good? That’s what they do, isn’t it?
I go to his desk and stand there, running my fingers under its edges in case he taped a Post-it note with the safe combination under there.
“What the hell are you doing?”