“And you made faces out of chocolate chips on some of them. I got to spend the night, and we watchedThe Phantom of the Opera. I hid my face through a lot of it and couldn’t understand why you loved it so much.” Abby turned on the music box and it tinkled out the tune to “Masquerade” before she shut it off again. A few patrons turned their way. “Someone had to have known you loved that movie.”
“I hadn’t thought that through, but you’re right.” Paradise took a sip of her mocha, a splurge from her usual black coffee. “Maybe it really was a cable guy, and he found it on the step. Someone could have put it there and hoped I’d leave the door unlocked after finding it.”
“Maybe. I doubt there are service records from that long ago. It’s been twenty years since they died.”
Twenty years yet the pain was still fresh. Paradise could see her parents’ faces so clearly in her mind, though their voices had begun to fade from her memory. When she got a chance, she’d search the box Evan had found in his attic.
Abby set the music box back on the table. “I have to wonder why anyone would give this to you. It’s a little creepy. Why not give you the soundtrack or maybe a masquerade mask?”
“It’s an important part of the movie though. The music plays in the Phantom’s lair, and it’s sold at the auction when the movie begins.” But that didn’t explain why someone would give it to her. “Did I ever ask for one as a gift?”
“You didn’t mention it, but then, you might not have wanted to tell me because I thought it was beyond creepy. Not to change the subject, but what did Blake say about Lloyd Adams?”
“I—I haven’t told him. I want to face Adams myself, and Blake would be upset and worried. Not that it matters at this pointsince I can’t find him. The police are looking for Adams but he’s vanished. That priority has moved to the bottom of the list with all the problems at the park.” At Abby’s questioning expression, Paradise wished she hadn’t mentioned it. The whole thing with the will needed to be kept under wraps. “You know about those.” Abby would assume it was only the money troubles.
“You can’t let Adams get away with his smear campaign.” Abby bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “I probably shouldn’t mention it, but I saw his truck parked in front of Bea Davis’s house.”
The former sheriff’s widow had implicated her dead husband as a possible suspect in the murders. “Bea seemed to think her husband was having an affair with Mom, but there’s no proof.” There were so many clues Paradise needed to investigate, but there’d been no time.
Abby frowned. “I don’t think that’s true, Paradise.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Before Mom died I promised her I wouldn’t say anything.”
Abby knew something. Was it about the adoption? “You can’t leave me hanging. If it’s about my missing half brother, I already know about him.”
Abby exhaled. “Oh good. My mom said she thought Becky’s former boyfriend had started coming back around before your parents died.”
Paradise forgot to breathe. “Who was he?”
“Mom would never tell me. She said it would be dangerous for me to know.”
And she was gone now. How could Paradise find someone who might know the identity of that mystery man in Mom’s life?
Chapter 29
Mary’s old barn out on Marcella Trail near Foley still held a few flecks of red paint. The battered metal roof had a missing panel, but a new lock shone on the sliding glass door. Blake hadn’t expected to have a problem getting in. Mary had told them nothing was out here on the old property, but he and Paradise decided to check. Mary hadn’t been out here in years.
Paradise’s expression mirrored his disappointment. “Now what?”
Blake stepped to the lock and yanked on it, but it refused to budge. “Maybe there’s another door. You go around the west side to the back and I’ll go this way.” He walked the length of the barn and down the east side. He passed two fly-speckled windows on this end, so he held out hope there was a door along the back, but he and Paradise found no door, just a long expanse of weathered gray boards.
“The windows might not be locked.” He started with the closest one, and it stood open half an inch. “Let’s try this one.” He shoved it up and the earthy smell of hay and dirt rushed out to meet him. He examined the opening. “I don’t think I can get my shoulders through this.”
Paradise stepped in front of him. “Hoist me up.”
“I don’t know what’s in there. Let’s look at the other windows. I suspect none of them are locked.” After walking around the building, he found he was right—but they were all the same tiny dimensions. And too filthy to be able to make out much beyond their grimy glass.
“I’m perfectly capable of getting in there. Maybe there’s a key inside that fits the lock.”
He wanted to argue but he caught the stubborn tilt of her chin and the flash of independence in her eyes. She called it smothering her, and while he didn’t understand how his protection was a bad thing, he had promised to do better, so he dropped to his hands and knees. “Stand on my back and slide in feetfirst. Who knows what you might find under the window, so don’t risk going headfirst.”
She climbed onto his back and grabbed the top of the window casing before standing on the sill and shining the flashlight app on her phone into the dark space. “I can get in okay. I’ll try to find a light.” She slid feetfirst into the interior.
He heard something metal clatter. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice echoed off the high ceilings inside. “The place is littered with Coke cans.”
A light came on and he spotted her moving past a pickup to the wall by the door. He squinted through the window. A rack held rakes and tack gear as well as old Folgers coffee cans with who knew what in them. Paradise ran her hands along the shelf and the hooks by the door. He turned his attention to the truck, but he couldn’t make out much detail. A tarp covered most of the cab, and only the bed showed it was white.
Mary had been right about the color. He tamped down his excitement. They still had no proof of anything.
