CHAPTER ELEVEN — THE SOUND CABINET
The removal team arrived at the Beacon on Saturday morning with two municipal workers, an electrician, and a structural supervisor.
Emily waited outside with Helen, Adrian, Patrick, and Malik.
Anika had arranged for Celeste to receive the sound cabinet once it came down.
Victor appeared at the barrier wearing a dark coat.
“I was told this inspection was closed,” he said.
Anika answered that the public sidewalk remained open, but no one without authorization would enter the building.
Victor looked at Emily.
“You seem determined to turn this into a spectacle.”
“I’m waiting for a cabinet,” she replied.
“You’ve made your point.”
“I haven’t said what my point is yet.”
Victor smiled without warmth.
“Your mother would have wanted you to move on.”
Emily felt Helen step closer,
but she kept her voice steady.
“You didn’t know what my mother wanted.”
“I knew her well enough.”
“Then you should remember that she finished what she started.”
Victor looked away.
A worker emerged carrying a metal tray filled with rusted screws.
Behind him came the cabinet on a small lifting platform.
Its wooden doors had warped, and a strip of cloth was tied around one handle.
Celeste examined the exterior, then opened the doors in front of the authorized team.
Inside were three empty shelves, a cracked speaker cone, and a small metal box labeled AUDIO.
Emily watched Celeste remove it with gloved hands.
A thin reel of magnetic tape lay inside.
“Does it look intact?” Anika asked.
“It looks possible to recover,” Celeste answered.
“We’ll know more after inspection.
”
Victor stepped forward.
“That tape belongs to the theater board.”
Anika raised a hand.
“Ownership will be reviewed after identification.”
“I’ve served this institution for decades.”
“Then you understand why we’re preserving the material,” Anika replied.
Victor’s face tightened.
He took out his phone and walked away without another word.
Malik waited until he was beyond earshot.
“He’s going to call somebody.”
“He can,” Anika said.
“The transfer is already recorded.”
Emily watched the cabinet being loaded onto the city truck.
She had imagined the moment would feel triumphant.
Instead, she felt the weight of all the unanswered questions growing heavier.
Two hours later, Celeste called from the lab.
The tape was fragile, but a specialist believed a digital transfer was possible.
She estimated that the process would take several hours.
Emily remained at the arts building, sitting on a hallway bench with a paper cup of coffee.
Adrian joined her.
“My father wants to come,” he said.
“He should stay home until the doctor clears him.”
“He won’t listen.”
“Then tell him I said that.”
Adrian smiled briefly.
“That might work.”
After a silence, he asked what Emily hoped to hear.
She considered the question carefully.
“I hope to hear someone ask what happened to the money before they blamed my mother.”
“What if nobody did?”
“Then I’ll know how alone she was.”
Adrian looked down at his hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t accuse her.”
“I believed it for years.”
Emily watched a custodian push a cart down the corridor.
“Belief isn’t always a choice,” she said.
“What you do when someone gives you a reason to question it is.”
Adrian accepted the answer.
Neither spoke again until Celeste opened the laboratory door.
“We have audio,” she said.
