Page 41 of One Last Step

Fate has other plans, though.Sophie might be onto something with her speculation that everyone’s choices are ultimately the product of choices others have made before them, because when I leave my room and see Elena and Sophie dressed to go out, the old pull to uncover secrets and lay them bare takes me.This might be the best chance I have to do just that.

“Oh, Mary,” Elena says, “I’m going to take Sophie out.It’s been some time since the two of us had a chance to spend some time together, and I miss her.”

Sophie smiles slightly when her grandmother says that, and a smile spreads across my own face as well.I sincerely hope that Elena isn’t culpable in any sort of crime.She’s so good to Sophie.I would hate to see Sophie lose her, especially since she might lose Luc.

“I think that sounds wonderful.Where are you two going to go?”

Sophie brightens."We're going to the café you took me to.Grandma's going to try the strawberries and cream crepe I got."

“I hear it’s delicious,” Elena remarks.

“That’s the word on the street,” I reply.“Well, I hope you two enjoy your meal.I’ll see you both later.”

"See you later, Mary!"Sophie takes her grandmother's hand and leads her to the elevator.I see the smile on Elena's face as she looks down at her granddaughter and hopes again that she won't turn out to be a criminal.

But I have to know.I have to find the answer.

I head to the kitchen to make myself some tea first.That will allow some time in case they realize they've forgotten something and need to come back.The tea will also help calm my nerves.Not as much as walking would have, but enough that my mind can remain sharp while I look around.

Another benefit becomes clear as I sip my tea.I have time to plan.Rather than wandering aimlessly among the clocks and trying to catch more accidental clues which is what I first wanted to do, I decide that I’ll look for the broken mantel clock that spills out a Nazi letter.

Elena claims that she’s taken it for repairs, and she’s probably telling the truth.I don’t think she took it to the storage rooms, though.The way she looked at me when she realized I might have seen the letter tells me that this is one of the valuable items, one she fears being stolen or damaged.She would want that clock close to her.

And how much closer can it be than in her own bedroom?

I finish my tea and head for the room.My heart pounds with the old excitement I always feel when I’m looking for hidden answers.I smile ruefully.Claudia called me Miss Detective Wilcox.Sean teases me regularly about being a detective disguised as a governess.I suppose they’re not wrong.I didn’t intend to be a detective, but I have a pretty good track record at it.Maybe that luck will hold today.

Elena’s room is only slightly larger than my own.Most of that space is occupied by the bathroom, which has a full bathtub and not only a shower like my room.Rather than a wardrobe, it has a closet, which opens up the floor space a little more as well.

I don't see anything suspicious at first glance, and I don't see a filing cabinet or desk anywhere, so I head for the closet.It's not a large closet, certainly not a walk-in, but it's spacious enough for her to fit several changes of clothes along with coats, scarves, boots, hats, and other accouterments.

And on the floor, tucked not quite out of sight in a corner behind a long overcoat, is the clock.

I carefully pull it from the closet and carry it to the bed.There’s a table too, but I don’t want to risk scratches or scuffs that would alert Elena to the fact that I’ve been spying.

The clock is heavier than I expect, and it takes some effort to move it.The face and hands are of brass, and the case is thick ebony.That’s why it didn’t shatter when it was dropped.

When I reach the bed, I look around for the door that popped open, but I see no sign of it.It is a truly well-hidden compartment.

I set it on the bed and feel around for an opening or a depression that might indicate where the door is.I recall it opening near the bottom, but when I fell there, I didn't detect any irregularities in the wood.I feel the underside, and still nothing.

Growing slightly worried, I lift the clock and shake it a little.There’s a slight whirring sound, but nothing that tells me how to open it.I don’t want to drop the clock on the floor and hope that it pops open again, but I’m running out of ideas.

I set it on the bed and sigh in exasperation.I don’t want to drop it, but it was that force that caused the clock to open.Maybe it requires a little bit of force.

I slap the wood lightly.Nothing happens.I slap it again, a little more forcefully.Still nothing.

I sigh and try to think back to exactly how the clock fell.It slid off of the display and tumbled once before landing on its head and falling onto its back.

Hmm… It’s worth a shot, I suppose.

I slap the head of the clock.There’s a smallching, and the rear panel of the clock pops open.Letters spill out, and I pump my fist in exhilaration.

I look at the first letter.It’s written in French, a language I speak passably but read quite poorly.

I don’t need to read it to see the swastika in the lower right corner, andHeil Hitleris a phrase that, unfortunately, is known worldwide.

The rest of the letter is far more interesting.

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