Page 82 of The Couple's Secret
“A Victrola,” she said.
Zane nodded. “Yep. Contrary to what most people probably think, the Victrola is the kind with the internal horn. Everyone thinks it’s the one with the big external horn mounted to it. The one that looks like the cones they put on dogs, but that’s not a Victrola. Although sometimes those external horns come as part of cabinets and other times they come separately. You get to learn a lot of cool shit like that doing this job.”
An alert went off in the back of Josie’s mind. Mentally, she sifted through all the information she’d gathered in the last couple of weeks, searching for why.
“Zane,” Jackson said through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t matter. This conversation is over.”
Josie returned the key to Zane. He unlocked the cabinet, lifting the top so they could see the record player. Bright green felt.
Gretchen shot a glance at Josie before returning her attention to Zane. “Then what’s the cabinet with the external horn mounted to it called?”
“It’s called a Victor,” Zane carried on like a museum docent. “They were first produced in 1901. Victrolas came out in 1906. This one is from the 1920s, I think. What year, Jacks? Do you remember?”
“No, I don’t remember. Put the key back and help me move it. If this shit gets wet, we’re going to be screwed.”
Zane closed the lid.
“Are all of them so small and narrow?” asked Josie, every last one of her instincts buzzing like a hornet’s nest in her stomach.
“Oh, they come in all kinds of different sizes,” Zane said. “Some smaller, some larger. Different brands, too.”
Green felt, the sliver of something brass but conical, flaring at one end. The photographs. The damn photos.
“Can I see the inside?” Josie asked. “Underneath?”
She could see Jackson straining to keep his composure and she had an idea why. It was a crazy idea, but it was there.
“Sure,” Zane said. Using the key again, he swung the doors open. It contained several wooden slots for records.
Maybe she was wrong, but the idea pushing at the edges of her consciousness wouldn’t stop. The inside of this cabinet was cluttered with its internal mechanisms, but there were other brands, presumably designed differently, perhaps in such a way that the inside could be hollowed out.
“That’s enough,” Jackson snapped. “I need to get all of this shit moved out of the truck right now.”
Josie felt a couple of raindrops land on her forearms. “Did you have one of these when you were little?”
“No,” Jackson said gruffly.
“How about one like this?” asked Gretchen. She must have figured out where Josie was headed with this line of questioning. “Maybe a different brand.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Your dad didn’t have one?”
He slammed a palm on top of the cabinet. “I don’t remember!”
Zane jumped. “Calm down, man. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that someone killed my wife and all I want to do is get all this shit out of my house—get everything out so I can sell it and never have to go back there and instead, I’m standing here having the stupidest conversation of my life with a couple of police officers who are trying to pin Riley’s murder on Hollis.”
“You remember something else about the day your mom died, don’t you?” Josie pushed, the buzzing inside her getting stronger. “Well, maybe you don’t remember precisely. Maybe you put it together later. The photos of your mom on display in your house, that’s how you figured it out, isn’t it?”
Jackson glared at her. Zane looked back and forth between them. “What is she talking about?”
“Or maybe you had memories of her playing records. One of the photos at your house is of the two of you and you’ve got a record in your hands. When you saw the cabinet in the background of old photos of her, it started to come back to you. Your dad had a cabinet like this one but with the external horn. There’s a photo in the upstairs hall of his house. It’s you and him on your second birthday and in the background, you can just catch a glimpse of what looks like green felt from the record player and a portion of the brass horn of a Victor.”
Zane’s features twisted in confusion. “Seriously, what are you talking about?”
Josie plunged ahead, keeping her focus on Jackson. “Did you remember telling Bruce Olsen that your mom went ‘in Victor’ when you were three? Or did he tell you that when you asked him to find your mom?”
