Brass Keyboard Mystery

Written by Tom Fowler, Published on 6/15/2009

Since losing his wife MaryAnn to cancer last year, fifty-nine-year-old Steven Roby had suffered periodic bouts of absentmindedness. This concerned him, as his awareness was decreasing. In their declining years, both Steven’s grandfather and uncle had suffered from Alzheimer’s disease before anybody understood what it was. Doc Harvey, the Roby family doctor for over forty years, was watching him closely.

Because of this, added to the stress and grief he experienced in losing MaryAnn, he did not notice at first what was happening on the kitchen keyboard.

Steven had lived in the Roby house most of his life. He inherited it from his parents thirty years ago and, because it was so spacious and well constructed, he and MaryAnn decided to make it their home. It was a decision they never regretted.

Steven’s father, Steve Sr., had been a locksmith by trade. Within the comfortable family home, Steve had installed ornate locks on all of the six bedroom doors. All of the locks and keys were different in size and appearance, and there were two sets of keys to each room. One key was for the room’s occupant and the other was kept on the antique brass keyboard in the kitchen. As Steve Sr.’s five grandchildren grew up and moved out of the house and into adult life, a family tradition was started: each child would retain the key to his or her room, while its companion key would remain on the brass keyboard. This was a symbolic gesture particularly dear to the heart of MaryAnn, as she felt that it kept her children emotionally attached to their childhood home. Steven often wished that his parents could have lived to see this tradition commence and continue to this day.

What Steven had been slow to notice was that lately, somebody had been tampering with the keys. One morning over breakfast, the sunlight coming through the big bay window by the kitchen table highlighted the keyboard, causing the brass keyboard and old fashioned keys to sparkle—something that happened on infrequent occasions. Steven loved those old keys. The oversize locks and the keys that fit them were works of art and constant reminders of his youth.

But that morning, Steven saw that the keys were not hung as normal. He knew his memory and awareness were becoming serious issues but was certain he had not moved the keys himself. The keys usually hung with the smallest to the left, with the progressively larger ones hung to the right. The keys were numbered in sequence of size, starting with number 1 as the smallest. Hung normally, the keyed sides faced to the left with the smooth sides to the right. But today the smallest key, key number 1, was hung upside down and key number 3 was hung backwards, with the smooth side to the left.

Key number 2 was to the master bedroom, and keys 4 and 5 fitted the locks in the twins’ downstairs bedrooms. Key 6 fit an upstairs bedroom, as did keys 1 and 3.

Steven pondered this at the kitchen table for several minutes. Intense concentration helped him fight the onset of dementia and now he had something to figure out. He recalled mentioning to one of his children that he was as keeping something of great value in one of the kids’ bedrooms, but could remember nothing else about the conversation, or about the item of great value he had hidden somewhere.

Steven knew he would have to take extraordinary measures to find who was tampering with the keys. It was obvious that one of his children was entering the home when he was away and searching for what he was already calling in his mind, “The Treasure.”

So Steven devised a plan. He would hide in the house and wait for whoever was coming in unannounced.

A few days later, Steven stayed home on his bowling night. He decided to hide in the upstairs hall closet and wait, hoping for two things: He hoped somebody would show up, and that he or she would come upstairs, where three of the five children’s bedrooms were.

About nine o’clock, one of Steven’s two wishes came true. He heard the back door gently open and the soft footsteps that followed. He heard a faint clinking on the keyboard, but the mystery visitor stayed downstairs. The downstairs bedrooms belonged to his twin daughters April and Kirsten. April’s room was on the side of the house Steven was in now, but Kirsten’s was across on the other side of the living room, near the master bedroom. The darkness and quiet of the old house assisted him in hearing the mystery visitor open a door, but the sound seemed to come from far away. About ten minutes later, Steven heard a car pull into the driveway and back out again, obviously there only to turn around. However, the unexpected noise was enough to frighten the mystery visitor, who quickly moved to the kitchen, replaced the key, and fled through the back door.

A couple of days later, Steven had let it be known that a doctor’s appointment would keep him away from the house all afternoon. Steven hid in the same upstairs closet. Sure enough, a few minutes after he should have left for his doctor’s appointment, the back door opened and he heard the same soft footsteps and light clinking on the keyboard. This time, the visitor came upstairs and opened a bedroom door, but Steven could not tell which room it was. Steven considered surprising the visitor but wished to know exactly what his child was up to and why. If he called out now, he may never learn the truth.

The search was interrupted by the doorbell. Once again, the intruder hastily fled, this time bolting downstairs and departing through the back door but making very little noise. However, a clue was left behind. On the upstairs hall floor, Steven found a silk handkerchief, which appeared to be new. Steven could not tell if it was a man’s or woman’s and it had no fragrance on it.

That evening, a frustrated Steven asked his sons Harold and Buddy to come over to help him move an armoire, and then to stay for dinner. He always enjoyed the company of his children, but tonight he wished to look at them in a different and uncomfortable light: all of them were suspects in visiting the Roby home in secret.

Harold was first to arrive. Harold was a big man, not well coordinated physically and clumsy in his movements. Steven had hesitated in asking him to assist in moving the heavy armoire, but knew he and Buddy were there to watch him. Buddy arrived a few minutes later, with the watery eyes and runny nose of a cold that had lasted over a week. He was sure it would eventually go away, but in the meantime it was something he was simply going to have to tough out. The men got the armoire moved, dined together, and Steven still had no idea who was sneaking into the house or why, even after asking his sons numerous subtle questions during dinner.

The next week, again on bowling night, Steven tried his hiding tactic once more. The mystery intruder didn’t disappoint—Steven heard footsteps coming upstairs and entering a room. He could tell it was the same room from the time before, but wasn’t sure which one it was. Midway through the intruder’s very quiet search, Steven’s telephone rang. This startled not only the intruder, but Steven as well. His arm heavily hit the wall inside the closet and the intruder heard it. Frightened, the mystery Roby relative ran swiftly down the stairs and out of the house, leaving the key in daughter Denise’s bedroom door.

Over the course of the next few days, Steven spoke individually with his daughters, being careful not to give away the reason for his visits. Denise showed concern, as she always did, about her dad’s pre-Alzheimer’s condition, and Kirsten seemed to sense something was worrying her father. April sensed something wrong as well. But Steven learned nothing. He knew he would have to pull it together and figure this out. There would be no more secret visits and the guilty child knew Steven suspected something.

So, over a tall glass of iced tea after he had spoken to all of his children, Steven began to replay everything he had learned and had happened in his mind. He examined the keyboard again and noticed that key number 4 had dust on it. He also knew that key number 6, which fit Denise’s room, had been used and put away twice. After a couple of hours and two glasses of iced tea, he knew two more things:

He knew who was secretly entering the Roby home and why.