Chapter 18
Laura and Remington spent the weekend clearing the rest of the files out of Murphy's old office, as well as, a few boxes from Laura's office after discovering the bank wasn't going to be open again until Monday and the storage facility was closed for security maintenance for the weekend. Monday morning, they arrived at the storage facility just before it opened. They stood outside of the door until a young, long-haired man puttered past them. "Yeah, sorry I'm late. I slept in," he muttered as he shoved the key into the lock and pushed the door open. "You folks looking to rent a space?" he inquired as he brushed his stringy hair out of his eyes.
"No, actually, we're here to get some of the contents from one of the lockers. Number six," Laura informed him with a cheerful tone.
"Wow… so you're the mysterious Mr. Bailey," the young man stated with awe.
Laura tipped her head to the side slightly and asked, "You mean, you've never seen, Mr. Bailey?"
The unkept clerk shook his head, "Nah, none of us have. I've been working this joint for six years, and the closest I've ever come is seeing the money order that gets mailed in to pay for the unit. You are quite the celebrity here." He smiled at Remington before he added, "The other guys are never gonna believe me. Hey, do you think I can get a picture with you?"
"Well, I don't think-" Remington began, but Laura quickly cut him off, "Mr. Bailey is very, very busy today and we just need to get into that unit, so if you don't mind?"
The clerk gave her a broader smile, "That's all cool. I get it. The man of mystery needs to stay a mystery. Hey, just follow me!" He stepped around the counter and led them to a door down a short hallway. He punched in a four-digit code, then after the buzzer sounded, he pushed the door open. "Your stuff has been so secure, Mr. Bailey, don't you worry. This was money well spent. No one gets into this section of the place without one of us letting them in, and we personally escort everyone to their unit." He stopped at one unit, the metallic roll door firmly locked in place by a padlock.
Remington and Laura followed along, "Well, thank you, my good man. You've reassured me that my treasured possessions are safe within your walls. Now, if you will excuse my associate and I, we would like some privacy to inspect the items that have been so well protected." He emphasized his point by tapping the metallic door gently. A distinct thunder-sounding echo reverberated around the concrete hall.
"No sweat. If you need me, I'll be at the desk. Oh, and you don't need a code to get out. Just open the door and ignore the buzzing. I'll know it's you." He waved as he disappeared around the corner, and seconds later, Laura and Remington heard the distinct buzzing sound again.
"Well, Mrs. Steele, would you like to do the honors?" Remington asked as he held up the small padlock key. Laura took the key in a shaky hand and, after several attempts, managed to slip it into the key slot. She took a breath and twisted, the arm of the padlock releasing with ease. She looked at Remington and exhaled. "Really, Laura, this isn't a bomb we're disarming. It's just a simple lock," he teased. Laura gave him a weak smile before she shimmied the lock completely free. She just stared at the bottom edge of the door before Remington groaned, "For crying out loud." He reached down and, with a loud clatter, sent the door ratcheting upward.
"Thank you," Laura whispered. She stepped into the dark space and fumbled for the pull cord for the light. With a tug, the narrow storage unit was bathed in light. Surrounding them were several piles hidden by tarps covered in a thick layer of dust. "Where should we begin?" she groaned.
Remington reached down and pulled the edge of one tarp up, revealing a stack of boxes underneath. Laura mimicked his actions, revealing more boxes and a suitcase. Remington moved to a third pile, and as he exposed the trunk underneath, a cloud of dust quickly filled the small space. Laura covered her face and sneezed several times in succession before the dust settled around them. "God bless you," he stated and handed her his pocket square once again. "You know, these are becoming quite handy lately," he teased. Laura groaned and rolled her eyes. "Well, since we've managed to uncover this chest, would you like to start with this or move the other tarps?" Remington suggested.
"Let's move the rest first. If we're going to stir everything up, might as well do it all at once," Laura replied. She left the double meaning of her words hanging as she carefully tried to fold the dust-covered tarp over without creating another cloud. Remington followed her lead, and within minutes the contents of the unit were exposed more than before.
Laura sneezed several more times as she surveyed the boxes around them. Remington lifted a vinyl record out of one and commented, "UFO, interesting band." He thumbed through several more as he read out the titles, "The Yardbirds, Wishbone Ash, Uriah Heep. Your father seemed to be quite the Bristish music connoisseur."
Laura gave him a relaxed, dimpled smile. "He used to listen for hours, and sometimes, he would spin me around to the music. Even Mother and Frances would join in. That's probably one of the best family memories I have of all of us together," she admitted. "I was wondering what happened to all his records. I thought Mother had thrown them out."
Remington allowed the cardboard sleeves to fall back into the box. He peeked around in the box, silently noting it was filled with books and other odds and ends. Laura reached into another box and pulled out a photo album. She gasped as she turned the first few pages, "I thought these were gone forever."
Remington peered over her shoulder and grinned at a picture of Laura as a baby, laying naked on a blanket on what appeared to be the beach in the background. "And those cheeks still look just as nice," he teased.
Laura blushed and quickly closed the book. "I guess we can go through that again later," she stated. She moved to the trunk and fingered the catch. "I think we can assume there's nothing here to tell us why he left," she stated.
Remington pointed at the trunk, "Let's try that. After all, we seem to have good luck with trunks and family items."
"It's probably filled with clothes and other items he didn't need at the moment," she decided.
"But we'll never know if we don't open it, will we?" Remington goaded.
"Fine," Laura stated, "But you do it." She stepped away from the trunk to give him space.
Remington studied her face and detected faint lines of stress across her forehead and around her mouth as she fought to keep a slight smile. "No. This is your father, your life. You need to do this, Laura. You've come this far already, why stop now?" he gently suggested. Laura glanced over at the trunk and sighed. Sensing her hesitation, he pulled her against his side and dropped his chin on her head. "You can do this. I have faith in you, love."
"I know," Laura nodded. "Thanks." She knelt on the concrete floor, lifted the catch, and slowly pushed the lid upward. She couldn't hide the look of relief when she noticed the first object in the chest. She quickly scooped up a fluffy, white, handknit blanket and pressed it against her face. "It still smells like him. I never forgot that smell," she admitted. "This was the blanket my grandmother made for me. I thought I lost it moving into college." She peered into the chest and pulled out a round plaster dish complete with a small handprint depression. "I made this for him for Father's Day when I was in kindergarten," she explained. She carefully placed the delicate dish onto the floor and continued to rummage through things. "There's so much here… things from me, from Frances. And my parent's wedding album. I could have sworn my mother threw it away after he left, but I guess I know the truth. He took it all with him."
Remington knelt down beside her and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb as an unchecked tear slid down. "It looks to me like this was a man who truly loved his family but left to keep them safe, perhaps?" he suggested softly.
Laura rubbed the blanket in her lap unconsciously as she shook her head and admitted, "I don't know. I hope so. But we still have a lot to do before we get any answers, Mr. Steele."
"That we do, Mrs. Steele, so let's get this stuff covered up once again and head over to the bank. With any luck, we'll find some of the answers to your questions," Remington reminded her.
Laura gathered the blanket up and dropped it back into the chest but not before pressing it her face once more. She closed the chest and carefully tugged the tarp back over it. "Let's go to the bank!" she announced.