Chapter 7 — The Impossible Hiding Spot
Robert stepped closer to the wooden vanity.
He placed his hands flat on the polished mahogany surface.
He leaned his upper body forward to inspect the narrow gap behind the mirror edge more closely.
The clearance between the back of the carved wooden frame and the wall was remarkably tight.
A person would have to deliberately shove an object into the slot with considerable force.
Or the object could have arrived there through an entirely different mechanical means.
Robert lowered his head to eye level with the base of the mirror.
Dust motes danced in the shaft of afternoon sunlight cutting across the desk.
He noticed a faint smudge on the wood right beside the mounting bracket.
Beatrice slowly lowered her hands holding the pearls.
She walked over to stand beside her son at the edge of the vanity.
She stared down at the small space where Robert had just pulled the necklace from.
Her brow furrowed deeply as she tried to visualize the morning hours.
Beatrice spoke in a quiet, strained voice.
I dusted this entire vanity earlier this morning.
Robert kept his eyes fixed on the gap.
Did you move the mirror while you were cleaning, Mom?
Beatrice shook her head slowly.
Not the mirror itself.
She reached out a single finger and touched the carved wooden scrollwork at the corner.
I wiped down the base with a microfiber cloth right after breakfast.
Robert stood up straight and looked down at his mother.
Did the cloth catch on anything while you were wiping?
Beatrice paused, her eyes widening slightly as a memory flickered across her face.
I remember the edge of the cloth snagging on something loose right near the back corner.
Robert held his breath and waited for her to continue.
Beatrice looked down at the vintage jewelry box sitting on the center of the vanity.
She reached out and picked up the empty box.
Her fingers traced along the edge of the velvet lining inside the container.
A loose corner of the fabric fluttered upward under her thumb.