“Why, Steve,” Ron said after greeting him at the door, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Sorry for the intrusion,” Steve replied, “but I have some news that may be of interest to you.”
“News?” Ron wondered. “Do come in and tell us about it.”
Ron motioned Steve to the living room where they both sat down on the couch.
“Ron, when your son Ian was alive, he demonstrated a real passion for music.”
Ron chortled. “Yeah, he spent nearly all his time listening to his stereo.”
“Let me rephrase that,” Steve corrected, “he had a passion for composing music.”
“Ian? Composing music? Impossible.”
“No, really. Whenever he came over to my house we both collaborated on our music. And Ian has composed some of the most thrilling music I have ever heard.”
“Let me get this straight,” Ron muttered, “Ian never finished school or worked a day in his life but he could actually compose music?”
“Seems hard to believe, but he had a real talent for it. He and I came up with some cool compositions, but his talent really took off when he came up with not only music for movies, but also his own symphonies and operas. He also wrote some musicals for Broadway, too. I’m telling you, this is music that needs to be heard.”
“So what’s in it for us?” Ian’s mother Karen asked. She overheard the conversation from the kitchen and had joined in.
“This music must be published, and whatever money it brings in, I will see that you get every cent. Nothing for me, of course. Ian personally told me that the money will compensate you for all the misery he caused you during his life.”
“Misery?” Ron shouted. “He said that?”
“Assuming what you told us is true,” Karen said, “surely there must be a catch.”
“The only catch is finding the box containing Ian’s music. He hid it behind the wall not long before he passed.”
“Why would he hide it?” Ron asked.
“He wasn’t sure how you’d feel about his musical ambitions.” Steve replied.
“So Ian hid the box behind the wall,” Karen muttered. “This doesn’t sound right.”
“But the time has come to bring the box out of hiding and fulfill your son’s legacy,” Steve insisted.
“Fine,” Ron sighed, “Where would this box be hidden?”
“In his bedroom, of course,” Steve offered.
“But we just finished painting the walls in there,” Karen complained.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time to see what this whole thing’s about,” Ron rose to his feet, “I’ll get the crowbar.”
Minutes later Ron returned with the crowbar and handed it to Steve, who led Ron and Karen to Ian’s old bedroom. Steve surveyed the freshly painted walls in the empty room as he prepared to search for the hidden box.
Steve began tearing away at the walls with the crowbar. Ian’s parents cringed at the sight of chunks of drywall piling on the floor as the search progressed and soon the entire room was stripped bare of drywall, revealing the insulation and supports originally hidden behind the walls. But no box was found.
“Where’s the box?” Ron asked. “So far you’ve managed to demolish the room.”
Steve did his best to stifle a chuckle.
Don’t worry Ian, I’m only getting started, Steve thought. The best part is yet to come.
To be continued…