Thanks to a business call that kept Holt occupied after dinner, Caitlin didn’t get back up to the attic until the next morning. Farrell preceded her, wielding a broom like a sorcerer’s wand, wiping away the cobwebs that had terrorized her yesterday. Finally, when the only remnants left were high in the eaves out of reach, Caitlin thanked him, and he headed back down the stairs, carefully avoiding the heavy-duty extension cord Holt had dragged up earlier.
Holt came up then and plugged in the lamps he had brought up while Caitlin finished her breakfast, spread them out in a rough circle as far as their cords would reach and stood back, waiting for her assessment.
“Perfect,” Caitlin told him. “That gives me a bright area to work within.”
“What else do you need?”
Hands on hips, Caitlin surveyed the space. While what she’d seen the day before didn’t look terribly promising, she knew better than to make assumptions. Some of the most attractive pieces were the least valuable and vice versa. Everything came down to provenance, history, even sentimental value. Until she’d carefully examined everything up here, she’d reserve judgment.
Much less scary now that light reached all the way to its walls, the attic took on more manageable dimensions, and the light revealed pieces she’d missed. She took a step toward a tallboy secretary, then stopped when she spotted a low, dark shape. “Look! There’s a trunk. Help me move that over here first.” With an evil grin, she added, “In my experience, ye never ken what treasures a trunk might hold.”
Holt didn’t comment until they stood over it. Then he ran a finger across the top, leaving a streak in the dust coating it. “If it held treasure, someone would have emptied it by now.”
Age had darkened the center metal lock plate to the point Caitlin couldn’t be sure if it was originally brass or steel or something else. The painted wooden sides lacked carry straps, so she braced her hands on either side and tried lifting. The trunk didn’t budge. “It looks like a late 19th-century travel trunk— the kind people used for long trips on trains or ships, but I’ll know more when we open it. It’s heavy, so there’s something in it. Will any of the lights reach over here so we don’t have to move it?”
Instead of trying to lift it, Holt gave it a shove. It budged, but only a little. “I guess we’ll have to. It appears to be full of rocks.”
“Or gold?”
“Or lead,” he replied then moved as many lights as he could to create a half-circle of illumination around the front of the chest.
While he did that, Caitlin flicked on the torch and moved the beam over the entire front surface. Careful of the things stacked around the chest, she picked her way to the other side and examined the back as well. The hinges appeared to be in good shape, and she didn’t see any obvious damage.
“That’ll have to do,” Holt finally said. “Let’s open it.”
“Not so fast.” She moved back to the front, knelt by Holt and shone the torchlight on the lock plate. “We don’t have a key. I don’t suppose you’re any good at picking locks.”
“Not one of my many talents, sorry. As old as this looks, we could probably break into it pretty easily.”
Caitlin shook her head. “Nay. We don’t know how old this is. The trunk might have value of its own, more if it’s intact.” She sat back on her heels. “Before you got here from California, I found a ring of keys in your great-aunt’s chamber. Perhaps one of those…”
Holt stood. “Where?”
“In her dresser, bottom drawer, back right corner, I believe.” She’d looked at and into so many pieces of furniture since she’d arrived, she hoped she remembered the right drawer and wasn’t sending Holt on a fruitless search.
While he was gone, she took pictures of the trunk and the surfaces of a few other pieces the light reached, and then she moved further into the recesses of the attic. A wrought-iron headboard leaned against one wall, the tops of its curved posts visible above a stack of pasteboard boxes. A good home for insects, Caitlin thought, like the spiders responsible for those ghastly cobwebs. But perhaps they contained old dishes or something else of value. A set of metal shelves held bits and bobs— broken crockery, lamp parts, even a few bolts of fabric she recognized as having been used for the draperies downstairs.
“Ordered too much, did ye?” she muttered as she swept the light over the next shelf.
A small wooden box caught her eye. For jewels? Or fishing lures. One never kenned until one opened it. She reached for it but heard the stairs groaning under Holt’s heavy tread as keys clinked in time with each step. So she returned to the trunk, their primary focus at the moment.
“Found them,” Holt announced as he crested the stairs. He held the keyring aloft and shook it, making the keys rattle together.
Caitlin took the ring from him and flipped keys aside as she studied each one. “Four of these look like modern house keys, but one of the smaller ones might be what we need.” She knelt and gently inserted one after the other, some fitting better than others, but none releasing the lock. “Damn.” Caitlin sank back on her heels and thought. “I haven’t found any other key rings in the pieces I’ve cataloged, but there might be more kept where other keys are used, like in the kitchen.”
“Why would anyone keep the key to something like this in the kitchen?”
Caitlin shrugged. “They wouldn’t, not usually. If the keys were for something special, they’d hide them, or at least put them out of sight, as your great-aunt did.”
“Let me try them.” Holt held out his hand, palm up. “Maybe the lock needs more encouragement.”
Caitlin handed over the keys and scooted out of the way. “Try not to break it, please.”
Holt fitted the first key and attempted to turn it in both directions, to no avail. He inserted it upside down and repeated the procedure, then moved on to the next key and the next. Finally, something clicked and the key turned. Holt caught the hinged lock plate as it fell open, then turned to Caitlin with a grin. “We’re in.”
Caitlin took a moment to appreciate Holt’s enjoyment of his success. He’d opened up to her so much in the last few days, she hoped his change of heart would continue. Then she nodded and flipped open one catch as Holt opened the other. She grasped the lid’s corners and paused again. What were they about to find?
“Well?” Holt gestured for her to open it.
