I would never be sure why I turned from my car but I did. Yes, the voices in my head were screaming at me to call the police. I mean there was my car; destroyed. I should have rang them and sorted it all with them because this key could wait in all honesty.
Still, my curiosity was spiked by the key my hand fiddled with in my pocket. I picked my moment to slide away from the growing crowd confident than one of them would inform the police. I mean I knew these people and they knew full well whose car it was. They knew also that I was in deep mourning and may well have gone home with someone else, maybe my brother. Oddly though the thoughts and opinions of other people didn’t bother me as much as they once would have done. Right now my mind was full of other things like my fathers murder, the fact I had a sister somewhere and that my brother was reaping the monetary benefits while all I got was a rusty old key.
I hunched my back and using my black coat I shielded my face from the wind or curious gazes, who can say for sure? Certainly not me; not right now. I got on the bus and rested my head on the cool glass of the window pane. I took out and read the letter again hoping to gain some clarity from it.
None came before the bus jolted to a halt at the docks. As I shuffled off the bus and breathed in the almost stale air that seemed to hang around the old town like a cloud I sighed remembering why it was that I never came here. I went towards the building housing the lock boxes and stood looking almost fearfully at the door.
I went to push the door but it didn’t give. That’s when I realised that it was late on a Friday afternoon. I guess I had been too eager to discover the family secret as my father had suggested was inside. Either that or it was in the key I now clutched in my palm. I turned away slightly disappointed that I would have to wait until Monday for the mystery of the lock box.