The apartment smelled of lavender and hospitality and love. Ariel felt instantly at ease.
“This room is stunning!” She wandered into the living room, where she turned in a full circle, taking in the home. “It reminds me of the little villa Aunt Dahlia and I rented in the South of France last year.”
“Mom called it country French. She designed the apartment.” Caleb followed her, clearly enjoying her appreciation of hismother’s work. “She and Dad lived in Paris and Avignon for five years before I was born.”
“Why so long?” Isaiah settled into the fringed, armless upholstered chair beside the table.
“Dad was concertmaster of the Philharmonie de Paris, and Mom was the conductor.”
“I can certainly think of worse places—” Ariel stopped as she caught sight of a violin case on an antique end table. She walked over to it and picked it up. “Caleb, is it your father’s violin?”
Eyes wide, he pulled in a deep, halting breath, inching toward her. “If it is, it’s one of the last things my father touched.”
He reached for the case. “It’s—this isn’t my father’s.”
The disappointment coloring his tone made her wish she hadn’t pointed it out, had let him discover it when he came here alone.
Caleb set the case on the coffee table and opened it. “My father had an unmistakable Musafia Enigma case. This violin and case belong to a beginner or hobbyist.”
Isaiah came over and checked it out. “You’re right—that’s not a professional musician’s instrument.”
“Whose do you think it is?” she asked.
“As far as I know, Granddad has the only key, so he’s the only one who could tell us.”
“Should we take it to him?”
“No, leave it here. I don’t want him to know we came in the apartment. Or how I got in. But I need to grab a guitar I left behind.” He strode to the back of the apartment and returned seconds later with a guitar case. “Let’s get our meeting with Granddad over with.”
Caleb started for the door, motioning for Ariel to go before him.
“Remember, I’m in charge,” Isaiah growled from the living room as they reached the foyer. “This is not a date, so don’t act like it is.”
Caleb held the door for her and gave Isaiah a mock scowl that made Ariel smile.
“Sorry about the date comment,” he said as they started down the stairs. “Why do so many older people think they’re comedians?”
“I guess they’ve learned not to take everything so seriously.”
“Maybe.”
Back in the parlor, he turned toward the original entrance. “I’m trying to remember what Dad did with his violin that night. He and Mom came in from outside earlier, so their coats hung over there.” He pointed to the carved hall tree near the door.
“Do you remember any other details?”
“Mostly just the words and emotions. But I think I’d have noticed him taking his violin.”
“It seems strange to take a violin out in the cold unnecessarily, since the humidity inside the case needs to stay at a certain level,” she said in a whisper when they approached his grandfather’s suite. “Do you have any idea where he put it?”
Caleb lowered his voice. “I don’t know. In our apartment, I guess.”
“Do you remember seeing it in the parlor after they left?”
Did he? “Not sure. He brought it downstairs, but that’s all I know.”
“Maybe someone took it.”
“I hope I don’t have to consider that possibility. They were all friends and family and church members.” He knocked on his grandfather’s door, then turned the knob. “Granddad?”
