Chapter 14: The Music Box and the Final Betrayal
The photograph of the music box stayed on my phone as we drove toward the old Lawson estate.
Jonathan had insisted that we wait for the authorities. A detective had been assigned to the case, and two officers were following our vehicle.
But there was something Peter didn't know.
My mother had remembered the melody.
And she had remembered another detail.
The music box wasn't the only thing Richard had hidden.
He had also given Eleanor a small brass key.
She had kept it for thirty years.
“Why didn't you mention the key earlier?”” I asked.
My mother sat beside me in the back seat.
“Because I thought it belonged to the music box. I never found the lock.””
She reached into her handbag.
The little key rested in her palm.
It was tarnished and unusually thin.
Jonathan turned from the passenger seat.
“Does it have any markings?””
My mother examined it.
“There's a number.””
“What number?””
“Four-one-seven.””
Jonathan looked at me.
“The safe deposit box.””
I frowned.
“But we already opened it.””
He shook his head.
“Perhaps the key belongs to something inside the box.””
I looked at the documents we'd recovered.
There had been a small leather notebook, financial records, and photographs.
Nothing else.
“Could there have been a second compartment?””
Jonathan nodded.
“Some older deposit boxes contain removable inner trays.””
The detective's vehicle pulled alongside ours.
His name was Detective Harris. He had spent the last hour reviewing the evidence Jonathan provided.
“We're approaching the property,” he said through the phone connection.
“Nobody enters until my officers secure the building.””
We arrived at a large house surrounded by overgrown trees.
The windows were dark.
The driveway was empty.
Two officers approached the front entrance while Detective Harris remained beside us.
“Stay here,” he instructed.
I watched as they entered.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally, one officer returned.
“The building is empty.””
Detective Harris looked toward the house.
“Any sign of the music box?””
“Not yet.””
Vanessa stepped out of the vehicle.
“There should be a study at the back. Peter kept his documents there.””
The detective looked at her.
“Did you ever enter the property?””
“Once.””
“When?””
“About two months ago.””
“What did you see?””
“Boxes. Old photographs. Some furniture.””
“Did you see the music box?””
She hesitated.
“Yes.””
My mother stepped forward.
“Was it intact?””
Vanessa nodded.
“I think so.””
We entered the house with the officers.
Dust covered the furniture. A grandfather clock stood motionless in the hallway. The air smelled of damp wood and old paper.
At the back of the house, we found the study.
Bookshelves lined the walls.
An old desk sat beneath the window.
On it was a photograph of Arthur Whitmore shaking hands with Peter Lawson.
Daniel stared at it.
“My father trusted this man with everything.””
Detective Harris examined the photograph.
“Sometimes the people closest to us know exactly how to exploit that trust.””
An officer opened a cabinet.
Inside were several folders.
Jonathan immediately recognized the names.
“Those are the original company records.””
He began examining them.
Then my mother pointed toward a wooden shelf.
“Marcus.””
There, beneath a stack of old books, sat the music box.
It was made of dark walnut wood, with a tiny brass ballerina painted on the lid.
I picked it up.
My mother touched the surface.
“Your father bought this when I was pregnant with you.””
She smiled through tears.
“He said you would like music.””
I opened the lid.
A familiar melody played.
Four notes.
Then silence.
I turned the box over.
There was a small opening near the base.
My mother took out the brass key.
It fit.
She turned it carefully.
A hidden panel slid open.
Inside was a folded piece of paper and a tiny metal recording device.
My heart began pounding.
Detective Harris took the recording device.
“Do you recognize this?””
Jonathan examined it.
“It looks like an old voice recorder.””
The detective placed it in an evidence bag.
He unfolded the paper.
It contained a short handwritten message.
If this is found, the person who has kept the truth hidden is not necessarily the person who caused my death.
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Jonathan continued reading.
Margaret knows what happened. Eleanor knows why. Daniel knows what he signed. But the person who arranged everything is the one who has never had to explain himself.
Daniel stared at the note.
“My father.””
The detective looked at him.
“We will need to verify that.””
Jonathan examined the second sentence.
The original recording identifies the driver of the second vehicle.
Detective Harris carefully opened the evidence bag.
“We'll have this examined.””
Then Vanessa spoke.
“There's something else.””
She looked toward the desk.
“Peter said the recorder was broken. He told me it contained nothing.””
The detective turned.
“When did he tell you that?””
“Last week.””
I stared at her.
“You were here last week?””
She nodded.
“Peter asked me to retrieve the music box. He said it was valuable to the family.””
“And you didn't take it?””
“I tried. But he wouldn't let me leave with it.””
My mother looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell us?””
Vanessa lowered her head.
“Because I thought he was going to give me the money.””
I looked away.
There was no point pretending her honesty made everything better.
Detective Harris received a phone call.
He listened for a moment.
Then he looked toward Daniel.
“Mr. Whitmore, I need to ask you something.””
“What?””
“Your father had a private driver in 1996. His name was Peter Lawson?””
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.””
The detective looked at Jonathan.
“We've identified a second vehicle in the original accident report. It was registered to a company controlled by Arthur Whitmore.””
My mother covered her mouth.
The detective continued.
“However, the vehicle was officially reported stolen two days after Richard's death.””
Daniel looked devastated.
“So Peter was driving it?””
“We don't know yet.””
He glanced at the recorder.
“But if this device contains what we think it contains, we may finally have an answer.””
A sudden noise came from the hallway.
One of the officers shouted.
“Police! Don't move!””
We rushed toward the doorway.
A man stood near the front entrance.
He was older, with thinning gray hair and a dark coat.
Peter Lawson.
He looked directly at my mother.
Then at the music box.
“You shouldn't have opened that,” he said.
Detective Harris immediately approached him.
“Peter Lawson, you're going to need to come with us.””
Peter barely glanced at the detective.
His attention remained on Eleanor.
“You should have stayed quiet, Eleanor.””
My mother stood straighter.
“I did stay quiet. For thirty years.””
Peter smiled faintly.
“And look where it got you.””
I stepped forward.
“What did you do to my father?””
Peter looked at me.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he laughed.
“You really want to know?””
“Yes.””
He glanced toward the music box.
“Your father wasn't supposed to die that night.””
The room went silent.
Daniel stared at him.
“What?””
Peter slowly raised his hands as the officers approached.
“Arthur wanted Richard frightened. He wanted the documents recovered. He never intended for the car to go off the road.””
My mother began shaking.
Peter continued.
“But Margaret was in the passenger seat. She grabbed the steering wheel when Richard tried to escape.””
Daniel looked horrified.
“That's a lie.””
Peter shrugged.
“Believe whatever you want.””
The officers handcuffed him.
Detective Harris leaned closer.
“Are you admitting involvement in Richard Whitmore's death?””
Peter smiled.
“No. I'm telling you that the woman you all trusted was the one who caused the crash.””
My mother made a small sound.
Then Peter looked directly at me.
“Ask your mother why Margaret spent the rest of her life protecting Eleanor.””
I turned toward Eleanor.
She was crying.
And before I could ask another question, she whispered:
“Because Margaret wasn't driving the car.””
Everyone looked at her.
My mother took a breath.
“Richard was.””
May you like
She stared at the music box.
“And I was the person who told him to run.””
