Chapter 13 - The Clutch Left Open on the Vanity
I hadn't been asked upstairs to Selene's dressing room in two days, not since the night Mr. Balanki asked her to open the clutch and she wouldn't.
That afternoon she rang for help getting ready. Her voice over the house intercom was clipped. "Maya. I need the steamer. And my black heels from the closet."
The dressing area sat just off the upstairs hall, a few doors down from the locked room. Warm light from the vanity bulbs bled into the cooler blue coming off the staircase. Selene stood in a robe in front of the mirror, her dark hair pulled back, diamond drops already in. The black satin gown from the dinner hung pressed on the door hook. On the vanity, beside her makeup, sat the small light metallic clutch.
She didn't look at me when I came in with the steamer. "Don't touch anything on the vanity," she said. "Just the dress."
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
I set the steamer by the gown and worked the wrinkles out in slow passes. The steam hissed. She watched herself in the mirror, turning her neck to check the necklace clasp. The room smelled like hairspray and the faint cleaner I had used on the glass that morning.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and frowned. "I have to take this," she said. She picked up the phone and stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked just enough for her voice to carry. "What? No, I'm leaving in twenty minutes."
I kept steaming. I tried not to look at the vanity. Then a truck went by outside on the county road and the old house gave one of its small shifts, enough to rattle the vanity top. The clutch, balanced half on a folded scarf, tipped sideways and slid an inch.
I heard the soft click of something hard inside it shifting.
I looked over before I could stop myself. The clutch hadn't been latched all the way. The top edge had gaped open half an inch. A corner of hard plastic stuck out from between the folds of a tissue inside — matte black, about the size of a credit card, with a thin silver stripe along one edge and a small punched hole in the corner.
My hands stopped. I didn't touch it. I stood there with the steamer hissing into the air, staring at that corner.
I'd seen that exact shape before. Mr. Balanki kept his on a plain ring with his office keys. I'd handled his laundry enough times to know the weight of it. It wasn't a hotel key. It wasn't a credit card. It was thicker, with that same stripe and that same hole.
It matched his access card type.
My breath caught. I looked toward the bathroom door. Selene's voice was still going, sharp. "Tell them I'll be downstairs. I don't care."
The plastic caught the vanity light. I could see a few numbers etched near the edge, too small to read from where I stood. I didn't lean in. I didn't reach. I memorized what I could — black, silver stripe, punched corner — and I stepped back to the gown like I'd never turned around.
The steamer shook a little in my hand. I set it down on its stand to keep from spilling water on the satin.
Selene came back out, still holding the phone. She saw me standing by the dress and then her eyes flicked to the vanity. She saw the clutch tipped over.
Her face changed.
She crossed the room fast and righted the clutch with one hand, pushing the card back inside with her thumb and snapping the clasp shut. She didn't check if I'd seen. She held it tight against her side.
"Did you touch this?" she said.
"No," I said. My voice was low. "It tipped when the house settled. I didn't touch it."
She stared at me, her mouth tight. "You're lying."
"I'm not," I said. "I was steaming the dress."
For a second neither of us moved. The steamer clicked as it cooled. Downstairs I could hear the front door open and Mr. Balanki's voice talking to the driver waiting in the driveway.
Selene slipped the clutch into the drawer of the vanity and started to close it.
I didn't think. I stepped to the bedroom door and called down the hall, loud enough to carry over the stairwell. "Mr. Balanki? Could you come up a minute, please? It's about the dress."
It was a bad excuse and we both knew it. Selene's head snapped toward me. "What are you doing?"
"There was a card showing," I said quietly. "Black, with a silver stripe. I didn't take anything. I think he should see it before you put it away."
"You don't tell me what —" she started, then stopped because his footsteps were already on the stairs. Heavy, unhurried. He appeared in the hallway in a dark suit, his watch catching the blue light from the stairwell.
He looked from me to Selene. "What's wrong?"
Selene forced a smile and kept her hand on the vanity drawer. "Nothing. She's mistaken. My clasp broke open, that's all."
Mr. Balanki looked at my face. I was still in my black dress and apron, my hair pulled back, my hands empty at my sides.
"I was steaming her gown like she asked," I said. "The clutch tipped on the vanity. A black access card was sticking out. Same size and stripe as yours. I didn't touch it. It's in the drawer now."
He held my gaze a beat, then turned to Selene. "Open the drawer."
Selene didn't move. Her fingers tightened on the brass pull. The diamonds at her ears caught the light when she shook her head just once.
May you like
"Please," he said. "Not downstairs. Here."
Outside the driver honked once. Nobody answered it. The room felt too small with all three of us in it, the black gown steaming faintly on its hook behind us, the drawer still closed between them.
