Chapter 7 - THE MISSING STAR
“Back it up.”
Blake did.
Grant appeared again.
My father’s watch in one hand.
Something silver in the other.
“Stop.”
The image froze.
Marianne leaned closer.
The object was tiny.
Too small to identify with certainty.
But I already knew what I wanted it to be.
A star.
One of the charms from my mother’s bracelet.
Celeste whispered.
“Oh, God.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“You recognize it.”
“I recognize the bracelet.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Celeste stood.
“I never saw the charm.”
Blake laughed bitterly.
“You really need to retire that sentence.”
We left for my mother’s apartment.
I had avoided the place since her death.
Grief behaves strangely around rooms.
A cemetery tells you someone is gone.
An apartment keeps insisting they might come back.
Her coffee cup was still beside the sink.
A magazine lay open on the sofa.
Her reading glasses rested upside down on the armchair because she always forgot to fold them.
I walked into her bedroom.
The wooden frame was exactly where I remembered it.
A photograph of my parents when they were young.
My father’s hair too long.
My mother laughing at something outside the camera.
Behind the photo was an old train ticket.
I removed it.
Another folded sheet slipped out.
Numbers.
Dates.
Account codes.
Marianne took one look.
“The second ledger.”
My mother had documented transfers independently.
Not copies of my father’s notes.
Her own work.
“She knew somebody might destroy his records,” Marianne said.
There were also three handwritten paragraphs.
One concerned Celeste.
C. admits first transfer. Says she was desperate over B. She is scared of G now. Richard believes her. I mostly do.
I handed the page to Celeste.
She read it silently.
My mother had believed her.
Not completely.
But enough.
Celeste sat on the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t deserve that.”
“No.”
I surprised both of us by saying it.
“You didn’t.”
She nodded.
There was something relieving about not forgiving too quickly.
The next paragraph concerned Grant.
G approached me at diner. Threatened to “burn the whole family down” before prison. Grabbed wrist. Celeste wants meeting Tuesday. Richard says we take everything to police Wednesday morning.
Wednesday.
They had planned to go to police the morning after they were murdered.
We found my mother’s belongings inside her closet.
The hospital had placed her jewelry in a sealed property envelope after police released it.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Wedding ring from her second marriage that had ended years earlier.
Small gold necklace.
Silver bracelet.
I lifted it.
Four stars.
One empty ring.
A fifth charm was missing.
Nobody spoke.
Blake sat heavily on the dresser stool.
“I rode in Grant’s car.”
“When?”
“Two days after they died.”
My head snapped toward him.
“Why?”
“He told Mom his battery was acting up and asked me to drive it around.”
Celeste looked confused.
“He never told me that.”
“I found something between the passenger seat and console.”
Blake stood.
“I thought it belonged to some woman.”
My pulse increased.
“What did you do with it?”
“I put it in my desk.”
We drove back too fast.
Blake ran upstairs.
We waited below.
Celeste paced.
Marianne said nothing.
I held my mother’s bracelet inside my fist.
The four remaining stars pressed into my palm.
When Blake returned, he was holding a small plastic tray filled with junk.
Coins.
A broken cufflink.
Two guitar picks.
A hotel key.
Then he tipped something into my hand.
Silver.
Star-shaped.
My knees nearly failed.
I placed it beside the bracelet.
The broken jump ring matched perfectly.
Celeste turned away.
Blake stared.
“That was in Grant’s car.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“When you found it, did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The first useful thing his carelessness had ever done.
Marianne carefully wrapped the charm in clean tissue without touching it again.
“We stop handling it.”
I nodded.
“This goes to the detective.”
“So does the folder,” Blake said.
Celeste stood near the doorway.
For several seconds she looked older than she had the day before.
Then she said, “There’s something else.”
Blake closed his eyes.
“Of course there is.”
She ignored the bitterness.
“When Grant came back that night, he wasn’t wearing Richard’s coat.”
“But the camera—”
“He was carrying it over his own.”
I looked at her.
“What was he wearing?”
“A dark raincoat.”
“Where is it?”
Celeste’s silence answered before she did.
“You kept it?”
“I was terrified.”
“Where?”
“My cedar chest.”
The chest sat in her bedroom.
She opened it herself.
Blankets.
Winter sweaters.
A garment bag.
She pulled it out.
Inside was a dark charcoal raincoat.
Blake stopped in the doorway.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Grant left it here.”
Celeste did not touch the sleeves.
“I put it away because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have called the police.”
“Yes.”
For once, she didn’t defend herself.
I looked at the right cuff.
A faint brown mark ran along the seam.
Old.
Dried.
Maybe blood.
Maybe nothing.
Then I noticed a tear near the pocket.
Something pale was trapped inside the torn stitching.
Marianne bent closer.
“Don’t touch it.”
It was a small scrap of paper.
Only part of a printed number was visible.
I recognized the color.
Yellow.
The same yellow used on tickets from Harrison Center Garage.
Celeste stared at the coat.
Blake whispered, “Mom.”
She covered her mouth.
For the first time since my parents died, I saw complete certainty settle across her face.
Not suspicion.
Not fear.
Certainty.
“Grant killed them.”
I looked at the coat.
The charm.
My father’s watch.
The blue folder.
May you like
Then Celeste said one more thing.
“And I gave him the place to find them.”
