A clue that belonged to the building
The gray paint matched the narrow door beside the stage. Mara had forgotten that the lost-property cupboard had once been a serving hatch. From the office it looked like a normal cupboard, but its rear panel opened into the stage passage. The little brass key had secured only one side. Nothing supernatural, and no duplicate key, was required.
In the passage she found a folding chair, a mug with a chipped handle, and a tin containing blue thread. A handwritten schedule lay beside the mug. The hall committee had arranged early-morning deliveries for the exhibition, and a volunteer named Ellis was receiving them before Mara arrived. His name appeared on all three mornings when the umbrella had moved.
Mara waited the next day, determined to ask rather than accuse. Ellis arrived carrying a flat parcel and wearing a raincoat several sizes too large. When she showed him the photograph, he recognized the umbrella immediately. He had put it on the third hook because that was where his mother used to leave it when she worked in the hall kitchen.
But his mother no longer lived in the village, and Mara had never met her. Why had Ellis brought the umbrella now, and why had he kept retrieving it without a word? He looked toward the unopened parcel. He had assumed, he said, that the object would explain itself when the photograph arrived. The delivery had been delayed.