Rukia allowed herself to be escorted to York's farmhouse on the edge of town later that afternoon by Grace Combs. The woman's arm was gentle over her shoulders, consoling, promising support if Rukia needed any.
"Such a shame, young thing like you having to come all this way alone," Grace said as they paused on the front porch. Frank was waiting at the mailbox, watching them. Grace took a moment to reach below the welcome mat and find the spare key. "Milt always kept it there. Everyone knew, but he had nothing to take, Lord rest his soul. House is here, though. Power is still on."
"Thanks for seeing me back, Mrs. Combs," Rukia said, wiping her drying eyes with a tissue.
"Bum taxi driver, leaving you at the cemetery like that." Grace unlocked the front door and pushed it open with a squeak. "You let us know if you need anything, dear. We're right across the road, Frank and I are."
"Thank you. You've been a great help."
Grace handed Rukia the key and patted her small shoulder with a plump hand. "Take care, dear."
Rukia went in the house and closed the door as the neighbor woman made her way down the porch steps. She turned, leaning against the door, violet eyes wandering over the living room.
It was much the same as when she'd last seen it, a bit more cluttered with newspapers and farm reports, but in better shape than she thought it would have been for an elderly man. She moved slowly into the kitchen, smiling at her grandmother's blue delft plate collection lining the wall over the table and few pieces of depression era glass platters displayed in holders on the wall.
For a moment the memories of childhood and smells of cookies and baking pies from her visits made Rukia feel weak, but she didn't sit down.
She left the kitchen and went down the hall to the staircase, pausing at one photo on the wall of her family portrait, the same she'd shown Michael at home, her wearing the locket in it. She looked to her father's distinctly Asian features, his half American heredity lost in Japanese blood, his smile at her mother, also a quarter Japanese. She looked to the aged photo of York and Rose, whose mixed Japanese descent was carefully downplayed in her war bride attempt at assimilation.
She moved down the hall, into the back study that held a roll top desk, wing chair, and overstuffed loveseat that didn't match the chair. She sat at the desk, appreciating the cool breeze that found its way into the room from the open window. She brought her purse closer, opening it and taking out the will she'd gotten from the attorney's office that morning.
So many papers to fill out, she thought, sighing, feeling overwhelmed. As executor of estate she was left in charge of everything, and she was still finding out what that meant. She looked at one of the cubby holes in the opened roll top desk, frowning at the key tucked way in the back of it. Most of the small slots were empty, but out this one she took a small key. She held it up, frowning at it, and then looked through the paperwork detailing York's assets.
She read the number on the twist-tie attached to the key. "There's no mention of a safe deposit box," she murmured aloud, mostly for company in the quite room. She sighed, and decided to look into the matter the next day. She glanced at the clock, and slouched in the chair. Michael wouldn't be off work for a few more hours.
She sat back in the wooden chair, looking at the key.
*****
Ichigo sat in the Chevy 350 pickup outside the Bank of Greater Wisconsin, waiting for a short, dark-haired woman he hoped would show up. He'd been there since the bank had opened two hours ago, trying not to garner any unneeded attention from the small town police squad car that had cruised by him three times already.
At eleven-fifteen he saw Rukia Parker approach from the opposite side of town. He watched her come up the sidewalk, looking at the store front signs overhead, and go into the bank. He threw his half finished cigarette out the window, got out of the truck, and followed her.
Rukia went to the first teller's window that was opened, her fingers nervous on the death certificate and driver's license as she placed them on the counter.
"Hello, can I help you this morning?" the teller asked, not recognizing Rukia from her regular customers.
"Yes, I'm executor of my grandfather's estate," she began tentatively, "and I need to close out his accounts. I'd like to see his safe deposit box."
"Oh." The teller looked at the certificate, then the license, and smiled at Rukia. "I'll be right back with the forms. I need to make a copy of these."
From across the room, Ichigo saw Rukia place the deposit box key on the counter while she waited for the teller. He went to the deposit room, nodding to Chuck, who merely smiled at him, and went inside.
Rukia watched as the teller took her license and the certificate and made copies of them at a corner photocopy machine, and then found two forms from another desk. She came back to the counter and handed the items to Rukia. She typed at her computer for a moment, eyes moving over the screen Rukia couldn't see. "Well, it looks like everything checks out, Ms. Parker. Fill out these forms and bring them back to release Mr. York's accounts." She smiled, pointing to Chuck. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather. Go right that way for the safe deposit boxes."
"Thank you." Rukia collected her papers.
She went to where the security guard stood across the doorway from the deposit boxes room and went in. She looked to Ichigo, a little surprised to find someone else in the room, but turned her attention to locating Box 139. She found it after a moment, and fit the key into the lock, then pulled out the long box. She opened the hinged lid, frowning at the two large pouches inside.
Ichigo saw her puzzled look from where he stood across the small room. "You're going to need a bigger purse," he said lowly.
Rukia's eyes darted to him, unsettled. She quickly closed the box and slid it into the wall, then left the room.
Ichigo followed, groaning that he hadn't said something more, something different. She was out of the bank by the time he got to the lobby. He caught up with her outside on the sidewalk as she hurried along the side of the street.
"Hey! Wait up," he said, jogging to her side. "Sorry about that. Can we have coffee? Lunch?"
Rukia looked to him in confusion, moving faster down the sidewalk. "No. Excuse me."
"Wait."
She didn't. Ichigo looked to the wedding ring she wore on the hand wrapped around the purse as she moved off.
"Before he died," he said loudly, "Milton York insisted I speak with you. R.L. Parker?"
Rukia stopped in her tracks, then turned to look back at him. "How do you know me?"
Ichigo grinned at her confusion, then stopped when she gave him a piercing, probing look. "Your grandfather was a client of mine. My name is Ichigo." He caught up with her, watching her dark eyes turn from quizzical to wary. He handed her a business card. She looked at it.
"Antique Furniture worldwide? You're an antiques dealer?" She frowned at the card.
"Ah, well..." Ichigo sighed. "You got a few minutes? Is lunch all right? Very public."
She watched him run a hand through his hair, thinking for a moment. "Well, coffee, I guess."
*****
They went to the nearest cafe on the low traffic street, a small, family-friendly place called Rosa's Grill, where they found a booth near the front. The waitress smiled at them, and took their order for coffee, and left them alone.
Ichigo returned Rukia's outright stare, watching her estimate him quietly. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, tapping it on the table. "Do you mind?"
She shook her head, looking to the leather jacket he wore on such a warm day. "You weren't mentioned in my Grandfather's papers."
"I hope not."
The waitress came back as he started to light a cigarette he'd pulled from the pack. "I'm sorry, sir. This is a no-smoking section," she said, smiling. "Would you like to be moved to a smoking section?"
"No. This is fine." Ichigo spared the waitress a look as she went back behind the counter. He stuck the cigarette in the box and stuffed it in his jacket pocket, glancing back at Rukia. "Actually, I never met your grandfather in person. He was a very smart man."
She watched him closely, hand on her purse, ready to bolt at any moment. "How do you know him?"
He grinned, hoping to put her at ease. It didn't work. She only sat back, misgivings rising.
"Listen, Mrs. Parker, when you go to the bank, take a large handbag with you and empty the box. Everything. Keep your back to the south wall camera." A look of alarm came over her face, and the spoke quickly. "Don't say anything while you're there. Turn in the key at the teller, and whatever you do, don't declare what you have, or take it to a jeweler."
Her fingers gripped the purse strap tighter. "A jeweler?"
He nodded. "If you need assistance with the box items, call the number on the card."
She looked at the card he'd given her. "How much furniture can there be in a deposit box?"
He shook his head.
She studied him for a moment, holding his attention. "What's in the box?"
He nodded, the grin hinting. "You'll see. Good luck." He stood up, put a five dollar bill on the table, and left out the front door.
Rukia watched him leave, then looked down at the money, and then the business card.
"Is he coming back, honey?" the waitress asked as she came up to the table with two coffees in her hands.
Rukia looked out the window of the cafe, but saw no sign of Ichigo. "Just leave the coffees."