On the Case

Thumbing through shirts hanging on the rack, I heard Kerry call something to me from an aisle over.

“What?” I shouted back. Our masks muffled our voices and combined with the shink-shink of metal sliding across metal I couldn’t hear anything. I stopped moving hangers as she came around to the other side of the rack I was at.

“I asked if you heard Maria is coming up this weekend,” she repeated. “It’s her first time leaving quarantine in months so we’re going to get dinner and have a small game night.”

Returning to the shirts I shrugged. “I knew she was trying to come visit, but I’m not sure I’m up for social interaction, yet.”

Truth be told, it had taken a lot of convincing just to get me out of my apartment to go thrifting with Kerry today, and I really just wanted to go back home. The only reason I had agreed to go in the first place was because my bearded dragon needed some more crickets and it was my only day off from work.

I could hear her exasperation. “Anna, she’s only coming up for one night. It’s not going to be a big get together or anything. Just a handful of us playing games at my place, totally low key.” She wasn’t going to let this go, was she?

“I mean, I guess that sounds fun. I just have to get home and feed Molly and I still need to stop and get her crickets.” The dread of having to be social was already creeping up in my chest. Maybe I could find a way to leave early. My parents lived near enough that I could always pretend they needed me for something. Unfortunately, they would never go along with getting me out of plans with friends because they knew about my recent withdrawal from society. It could have something to do with the recent pandemic, but it definitely had more to do with my general exhaustion and increased social anxiety. As I tried to think up a proper excuse to ditch later, I strolled over to the last row of shirts — just before the home goods area — and began shhinking some more hangers.

Kerry was already babbling on about what games we could play and asking if I wanted to order pizza or try a restaurant. I gave up looking at clothes and gazed around for something — anything — to catch my eye that might help me figure out how to get out of tonight. I love my friends, but can get sensory overload pretty quickly around them. It’s the worst feeling in the world when someone takes personal offense to you not being able to handle the sound of their breathing.

I wandered towards the home goods and accessories because in thrift stores I’ve always had good luck with rare finds. Growing up, my grandmother and I used to spend every Saturday polishing her silver, so I learned how to tell if something was silver or silver plated. I have a sizable silver collection that cost around $30 for all 27 pieces and I got most of them at this exact store. Kerry followed me over, saying something about pizza being the obvious choice and wondering about topping preferences.

“Anything works for me,” I offered, knowing full well I didn’t plan to eat any of it. The aisle we were in was full of bags — purses, suitcases, athletic bags, beach bags — and I felt drawn to a few old leather suitcases all standing attention. They reminded me of something you’d see in an old Jimmy Stewart film and the nostalgia factor intrigued me more than their potential vintage value. I slid out the smallest one and gingerly laid its broad side on the dusty laminate floor. I crouched down for better angling and popped the two brass latches.

Lifting the lid, I noticed it wasn’t entirely empty. Only about a foot by a foot and a half and maybe six inches in depth, this particular case had accessories suggesting it was a genuine antique vanity case, complete with the vanity set! There was a brush and handheld mirror with matching handles, a comb in a similar style, and a few other trinkets tucked into their respective homes.

“Kerry, look at this!” I interrupted her argument with herself about whether or not to invite Zachariah because he would throw off the pizza topping consensus and she just didn’t have the energy right now. She bent down to look, making a face at the mildew scent I hadn’t noticed in my excitement.

After she got over the smell, she seemed to realize why I was so thrilled about this particular find. “Are those all the original accessories still in there?” She couldn’t believe it any more than I could. “Anna, you have to get it, this is so you. How much?”

I replaced the lid with a satisfying click and turned it over and over until I spotted the little orange sticker which read, “$9.99.” Were they serious? The price was so low I thought I had misread it and there was a “1” I had overlooked, but no. It was a virtual steal, and I had to have it.

We left the store with my new treasure and swung by the pet store for some crickets on our way back to my apartment. The whole drive home I kept thinking about examining my new piece of luggage more closely and wondering where it would fit best with my other decor. I had completely forgotten about agreeing to get together with my friends later that night until Kerry pulled up to my building.

“Do you want me to come get you tonight so you don’t have to drive?” she asked, politely, but I knew she mean so I don’t bail out last minute.

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’m gonna hang with Molly for a little and play with my new toy,” I grinned, holding up the suitcase in the hand without the bag of crickets. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over,” I tossed in, hoping that would buy me some more time alone.

She drove off and I headed inside, down the first floor hall, to the third door on the right; home sweet home. I set the case on the kitchen counter and spent some time playing with and feeding Molly. The way her little claws scuttled her low, fat body across the carpet to catch a cricket when I put it out for her always made me smile.

When she stopped showing interest in the crickets, I put her back in her cage and returned to the kitchen. I opened the suitcase again and began removing the items from their leather straps: two empty glass bottles that appeared to be for perfume or cologne, a round glass jar with a brass lid that I wasn’t sure of it’s purpose, the comb and brush, and lastly the mirror. But, when I removed the mirror from its strap, something else was tucked behind it — a little black book that blended in perfectly with the fabric lining.

I opened it to the first page and found a handwritten note:

For all who hold this book, next you’ll hold the key.

My name is Imelda Hauberk, come and find me

At first, I felt like someone was pranking me. I read the note again and wondered what the chances were of this Imelda Hauberk still being alive. The pages didn't seem yellowed from age, though… It was worth a shot, right? Besides, I love a good mystery and my curiosity about this key she mentioned was beginning to take over.

A quick internet search and my excitement began blossoming in earnest. Imelda was still alive and only lived an hour away. Who was I kidding, though? I didn’t want to see my own friends, much less a complete stranger. Would a complete stranger even want to see me with all the health risks involved nowadays? I stared at the screen a long time before realizing there was a phone number. Curiosity won out and I called Imelda.

An hour and a half later, I was sitting in Imelda Hauberk’s immaculate home drinking tea. She turned out to be a fragile-looking elderly woman with an oxygen tank who loved mysteries as I did. Sipping tea she explained the book between coughs.

“I wanted to see if anyone would take the bait.” Was I about to be murdered? Was she going to use me for some ritual to summon eternal youth? The irresponsibility of my actions was just now occurring to me and I began to worry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have used this miniature scavenger hunt as an excuse to get out of plans with my friends. “My father used to hide notes for me with hints for treasure hunts when I was growing up,” she continued. “Since I never had any children of my own, I thought I would try to share that job with any stranger who thought to follow my hints. Of course, you’re the first one ever, and I only put out four or five in all.” Her eyes seemed to shift slightly out of focus and a wistful smile hovered inches from where she had paused her teacup.

I couldn’t believe it. This woman just wanted someone to socialize with and share in her childhood game. Well, if anyone was down for socializing and games, it was not me… but this time, it was.

“You mentioned a key?” I prodded. She shook the memories away and set her tea down, getting up and heading to a desk in the corner.

“Take this to the train station downtown,” she said as she produced a small brass skeleton key, and an ancient-looking piece of folded paper. “This is the last clue my father ever left me before he passed. I have never followed it, so I don’t know what your treasure will be. Since you are the only one to reach out upon finding my note, whatever is in that locker is all yours to keep. I apologize if it ends up being an old shoe, but my father was like that sometimes. You don’t have to go, but I’m too old to bother anymore. Thank you for bringing me this much closure as I near the end of my own time.” She smiled sadly, but somehow reassuringly at the same time.

This was it. This was the best reason to blow my friends off. I wasn’t just satisfying my own curiosity, I was fulfilling the wishes of a dying woman. I apologized for not finding her note sooner, wished her well, and was back on the road, key and her father’s last hint in hand.

Pulling into the train station, I opened the late Mr. Hauberk’s note;

The hour it is now, not including the minutes

must be added to the number of fingers on one hand.

Now double this, subtract four for the cardinal directions.

Last, divide in half and again subtract the hour of now.

Great, math… I looked at the clock and went to work. After some brain strain and testing the equation with multiple options for the hour, it seemed I was being led to locker three. Thank goodness the locks hadn’t been changed since sometime in the 1940s because that tiny key still fit the lock on number three. The tiny door opened to reveal two small stacks of paper. No, not paper, money. I froze. They were hundred dollar bills. In two stacks of $10,000 each. “Whatever is in that locker is all yours to keep,” I could hear Imelda saying. I was still having trouble registering all that had just happened, but one thing I was certain of — I had to stop by Kerry’s on my way home to apologize for trying to bail. Plus, I had to tell someone about my night!