We waited just long enough to ensure our father was really gone before taking up a thorough search of the premises. We cut the bathroom from the list, knowing it was far too improbable a hiding place. Maggie scoured the hallway cupboard from top to bottom like a forensics expert, but found no trapdoor or secret compartment. As I was finishing combing through the master bedroom, Maggie ducked back into the kitchen and had a look at our family tree.
“Totally fine, enjoy a nice break, don’t worry one second about helping me!” I called out sarcastically.
“I didn’t get any help from you for my rooms, as far as I know,” Maggie shot back. “You’re not done yet?”
I sulked back into the kitchen, tail between my legs. “I looked everywhere and couldn’t find a single thing. I even tapped the entire wall looking for hollow spots. Nothing. Nada.”
“You didn’t find anything, Elby, because there’s nothing to find. The letter is full of shit. Fun as this has been, it’s time to call it a day.”
“Try to think like Mum here. If you were her, where would you hide your stash?”
“Why hide it in the first place, and not just spend it on your family?”
“Well, say it wasn’t money but something she couldn’t do anything with? I mean, think about it. What if she was a drug dealer when she was young? Everybody was on drugs in the seventies and eighties.”
“Like I said, Elby: you watch far too much TV. And I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but a lot of people are on drugs today, too. You extend your London visit much longer, and I might need to start taking some myself.”
“Out of the three of us, Mum was closest to Michel.”
“Brilliant observation. If that’s an attempt at making me jealous, it’s downright pathetic.”
“It’s not pathetic, it’s the truth. I only mention it because if Mum had some kind of secret she was keeping from Dad, then Michel is the next most likely person she would tell.”
“If you want to keep this up and be pigheaded about it on your own, go ahead, but don’t even think about dragging Michel into this.”
“I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all you! You know what? Screw it. I’m going to see him right now. He may be your brother but he’s my twin!”
“Yeah, well . . . it’s not like you’re identical!” Maggie spluttered as I stormed right out of the apartment. She came rushing after me, and the two of us raced down the stairs and out of the front door.
The pavements outside were blanketed in crimson, the fallen leaves remnants of an October with especially bitter winds. I love the feeling of dry leaves crunching underfoot, and the scent of autumn mixed with rain. I slipped behind the wheel of the car I had borrowed from one of my coworkers, and turned on the engine before Maggie had even made it inside.
We didn’t exchange a word throughout the entire drive, save one small exchange in which I told Maggie I was glad she was starting to take the anonymous letter seriously. After all, why else had she come along? Maggie insisted she was only trying to protect Michel from his evil twin sister’s wanton lunacy.
I found a parking spot and headed towards the library. The lobby was empty, and the varnished cherrywood counter that looked like it was pulled from some forgotten century was unattended. There were only two full-time employees at the library: the manager, Vera Morton, and Michel. Aside from a cleaning woman who came to dust the shelves twice a week, that was it.
As we entered the lobby, Vera came out to greet us, her face lighting up as soon as she recognized Maggie. Vera was a lot more complex than a first glance might suggest. She could have been an absolute knockout if she didn’t go to such lengths to disappear into the crowd. The sparkle of her blue lapis eyes was dulled by a pair of round glasses, complete with greasy fingerprint smudges on the lenses, and her hair was pulled back with a simple elastic band. Her choice of attire was equally unappealing. She looked sober as a judge in a mud-colored jumper two sizes too large, with matching moccasins and socks to complete a kind of variations-on-beige ensemble.
“I trust everything is all right?” Vera asked.
“Oh, right as rain,” I replied.
“Well, that is quite a relief. I was worried that you had some sort of bad news to relay. After all, it’s only once in a blue moon we’re lucky enough to be graced by your presence.”
I couldn’t think of another person I knew who talked like that these days. Maggie made up a story about us being nearby and deciding to stop by to pay our brother a visit. Watching Vera, I couldn’t help but notice a slight flush rising in her cheeks every time she heard Michel’s name. Maybe Vera’s heart was beating faster beneath that mud-colored jumper . . .