Hidden Pictures

by Carolyn Keene

  Inside, the lobby was covered in a deep-red carpet. There were mirrors and a few unusual sculptures lining the walls, and the front desk was just off to the right, next to a grouping of overstuffed chairs. It didn’t look like we were going to have time to linger, though, since Riley rushed toward the staircase near the back of the hotel. George and I followed as Riley dashed upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

  “Hey, wait up!” called George. Riley was much taller than either of us and was having an easier time making it up the steep stairs quickly.

  “Emily said she was in room 212,” Riley called back, barely slowing down for us. “She said I could just stop by whenever.”

  We quickly reached the long, narrow hallway on the second floor. It was lined with carpet that matched the lobby, and the entire building seemed to be a little crooked, as if it were slanting to the right.

  Riley scanned the room numbers, trying to find Emily’s room. George turned toward me.

  “Hey,” she said in a low voice. “I’m a little worried Emily won’t really want to talk to us.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Her boyfriend is missing,” George said. “Would you want to talk about that with an amateur detective? She might be upset and just want to be left alone.”

  I considered this for a moment. George was probably right, but I felt confident I could make Emily comfortable enough to answer a few questions. “We’ll just be really polite,” I said.

  George laughed. “That has worked in the past.”

  Just then Riley stopped in front of a door a little ways down from where George and I were standing.

  “Hey, guys!” Riley called while waving us over. “This is 212.”

  George and I jogged over to where Riley was standing and waited as she knocked on the door. For a moment, it didn’t sound like there was anyone inside. But then we heard the sound of someone approaching the door, and watched as Emily quickly opened it all the way.

  “Hey, Riley!” she said, smiling at us. “And you must be Nancy, right? The detective?”

  “Well,” I said, “amateur detective.”

  “Right!” she said. “Please come in, come in.”

  Emily stepped off to the side and gestured in toward her room. I looked back at George before stepping inside. I could see that we were both completely shocked by the way Emily was acting. She seemed perfectly fine. She even seemed happy to see us. I knew that people often deal with stress in different ways, but I still couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

  “Excuse the mess,” she said, clearing a place for us to sit down on the bed and in the few chairs the room had. Emily’s room was a little messy, mainly just dirty clothes lying around, but I didn’t really mind. I took one of the chairs, with a yellow sweater still thrown across the back, and George took the other. Riley leaned up against the windowsill behind us.

  “No, I understand,” I said. “You’ve been dealing with a lot recently.”

  Emily let out a huff as she sat on the bed with a bounce and said, “That’s true. Riley said you’re trying to figure out what happened to Jacob?”

  “That’s Emily’s boyfriend,” supplied Riley.

  “We are,” I said. “We originally came to Shady Oaks because I’d heard about the missing museum employee, Grace Rogers. But now there’s your boyfriend, Jacob, as well.”

  Emily nodded. “And the police aren’t doing anything,” she said.

  “Really?” asked George. “I thought they were threatening to shut down the museum.”

  “And they brought you and Susan in for questioning,” I added.

  “Well, yes,” said Emily. “They did. But I don’t understand why they won’t just close the exhibit now. Really, I think they just want to ignore it, because the exhibit is bringing in so much money for the town. If they found something and had to shut it down, everyone would be really upset.”

  “I was told that the police believe Susan is behind all this,” I said. “They’re hoping she’ll come forward before the end of the week.”

  Emily let out a sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Susan isn’t going to come forward,” she said.

  “Why do you think that?” I asked.

  “Because she isn’t responsible for the missing people,” said Emily. “No one in town is. Those photographs are cursed, and as long as the museum is open, people are just going to keep going missing.”

  Off to my right I saw George roll her eyes, but I didn’t want Emily to get offended and think that we didn’t believe her. I figured that the best thing to do would be to get as much information as I could from her, even if she might have a different interpretation of everything than I would.

  “Emily,” I said, “why don’t you tell us everything, from the beginning?”

  Emily nodded and told us how she and Jacob had visited the exhibit last night. The museum was just about to close, and they were the last two people there. She was looking at a photograph, and when she eventually turned around, Jacob was gone.

  “I tried to call him, but his phone was dead. Not like there’s service here anyway. But I assumed he had just gone back to the hotel to charge it,” she said. “So I came back here too. But he never showed. Then I went to the museum this morning and, well, you saw, right? I suppose Jacob isn’t missing, though, because I know exactly where he is. He’s trapped in one of DeSantos’s photographs.”

  “And you believe in the curse,” I clarified. I wanted to make sure I understood her perfectly. “You think that Terry Lawrence cursed his old partner’s photographs so no one would display them again. Why do you think Lawrence was capable of doing that?”

  Emily shrugged. “He said he could, in interviews. Christopher DeSantos wasn’t a good person. He got his fame by using other people. And now people are literally being taken into his photographs.”

  “He used people?” I asked. “Do you mean he used Lawrence?”

  “Yes,” said Emily. “DeSantos took the credit for a photograph actually taken by Terry Lawrence, so Lawrence cursed him and his work. It’s what he deserved.”

  “Right,” I said. I wasn’t sure what to make of Emily’s theory, or of Emily herself. I knew I needed more information from a different source. I was about to end the interview, but Riley beat me to it.

  “Christopher DeSantos didn’t steal credit from anyone. No one really knows who took that photograph. And his photographs definitely aren’t cursed. Why come to Shady Oaks for this exhibit if you don’t even like DeSantos?” Riley’s arms were crossed over her chest and she was looking at Emily distrustfully.

  Throughout the conversation with Emily, I had forgotten that Riley was such a big Christopher DeSantos fan. Of course she wouldn’t agree with Emily’s theories.

  I didn’t want the two of them to argue over this, but Riley had actually asked a good question. Why was Emily here?

  I turned to Emily and waited for her answer. Her mouth was open and she appeared to be searching for something to say. “Because of Jacob,” she said finally. “That’s also how I know so much about the curse. Jacob talked about it all the time. He believed in it and he wanted to visit Shady Oaks to see if anything might go wrong at the exhibit. He didn’t expect to disappear himself. The curse is only meant to affect anyone who tries to display the photographs. He just wanted to look at them.”

  “And did you always believe in the curse?” I asked.

  Emily shook her head. “Not until Jacob went missing,” she said. “But now I have to believe, don’t I? And clearly the curse affects anyone who interacts with the display too. I’m not going to stop telling people the real story. Not until the police shut down that exhibit for good and hopefully release Jacob from the curse.”

  I could sense Riley shifting behind me, and I didn’t want her to say anything else to upset Emily. “Thank you so much for answering our questions,” I said quickly. “Maybe I could stop by again? If anything else comes up.”

  “That would be fine,�
�� Emily said. She was watching Riley, though, and she was definitely acting much colder than when we had first arrived. I hoped she would still be willing to answer questions, if I needed to ask her anything in the future.

  “Great,” I said. “George. Riley.”

  I nodded toward the door, and the three of us stood and filed outside. Just before I shut the door behind us, I turned to wave at Emily and said, “Thanks again.”

  Emily responded with only a slight smile that didn’t quite look genuine.

  * * *

  We made our way down through the lobby and back outside, where Riley quickly turned to me and said, “Sorry about that, Nancy. But you don’t really believe any of that, do you? DeSantos didn’t use Terry Lawrence. If anything, it was the other way around.”

  Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to believe. I knew there was no such thing as curses, but as far as the relationship between the two photography partners, I just didn’t have enough information.

  “Why do you think it was the other way around?” asked George.

  “DeSantos was much more talented than Lawrence,” said Riley. “Everyone knew it. Lawrence was jealous of DeSantos long before they had their falling-out.”

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “There are plenty of interviews and articles from that time. I could send you some resources if you want.”

  “That would be great,” I said.

  “And anyway,” continued Riley, “DeSantos was just as hurt by the ending of their friendship as Lawrence was. People were so focused on the gossip that they stopped giving DeSantos the artistic credit he really deserved.”

  “Thanks, Riley,” I said. “For telling us this and for finding Emily in the first place. You’ve helped a lot.”

  Riley nodded and then told us she was going to hang out at the hotel for a bit, before finally heading over for another look at the exhibit. George and I waved at her as she disappeared inside.

  “Well, talking to Emily sure was a dead end,” said George as soon as Riley was gone.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Cursed photographs? Don’t tell me you’re buying any of that, Nancy.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “But I don’t think talking to Emily was a waste of time. Don’t you think it’s strange how eager she was to talk to us or how long it took her to come up with an explanation for being in town? I think there’s something going on with her.”

  “It’s possible,” said George. “But how do we find out for sure? Do you have any more leads to follow?”

  I didn’t. I shook my head at George before looking up and down the street. There were plenty of small businesses around, and people walking nearby who might have been locals or maybe some more DeSantos fans.

  “Let’s explore the town,” I said to George. “We’ll talk to as many people as possible. Someone will have to know something.”

  * * *

  Bess had left a note at the front desk of the hotel saying she and Lucas were still exploring the town and she would meet us at the hotel for dinner that evening. So George and I spent the rest of the day walking into every store and local office we could. Everyone seemed more than happy to point us in the direction of the museum or to answer our questions about the exhibit, but as soon as we mentioned the missing people, they suddenly had nothing more to say. Everyone seemed more closed off whenever we mentioned Beverly DeSantos especially, as if they did not like her, and I was beginning to understand how much of an outcast she was in this town.

  Eventually, when it was starting to grow dark, we trudged back to the hotel. George was complaining about the pain her feet were in, and how tired she was, and how hungry she was, and I couldn’t say I disagreed. We’d been on our feet all day and had spoken to so many people that it was discouraging to head back to the hotel without any new leads or clues. It had also continued to rain off and on all day, and now George and I were both slightly damp and shivering from the cold.

  We entered our hotel room to find the lights already on. “Hey, Bess!” I said as I stepped inside.

  Bess was sitting on one of the beds with her legs delicately crossed. She had a pizza sitting next to her, and the smell of it was filling the entire room.

  “Hey, guys!” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “You thought right,” said George, collapsing onto the bed opposite Bess and grabbing a slice of pizza. “Thank you,” she mumbled after taking her first bite.

  Bess didn’t wait a minute before she turned to me and said, “So what happened to you in the museum today?”

  “Oh, right!” I said. I had forgotten how long it had been since I’d seen Bess. She didn’t even know about what had happened in the staff hallway between Beverly DeSantos and Susan yet. I quickly filled her in, and told her about our strange conversation with Emily. “George and I went around town after that to ask everyone some questions. But no one wanted to talk to us.”

  “Why not?” asked Bess.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Some people seemed a bit uncomfortable, especially when I brought up Beverly DeSantos. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them believe she’s behind all this, and that she’s the one kidnapping people.”

  “Well,” said Bess, “I might have some more information about her. Do you remember that interview Riley told us about?”

  “The one where Beverly said she wished she had been born into a different family?” I asked.

  “Exactly!” said Bess. “Well, Lucas told me that it was actually a really big deal when it came out. Beverly was only eighteen when she gave it, but Christopher DeSantos’s fans were all really upset. They’ve hated her ever since. Maybe she’s kidnapping her grandfather’s fans in order to destroy his latest exhibit. I mean, it would be pretty extreme, but apparently she has a major grudge against everyone involved.”

  George reached forward for another piece of pizza and said, “It’s seeming more and more like Beverly. Don’t you think, Nancy?”

  “Hmm,” I said. “I don’t know. She sounded really upset about the missing people when I overheard her in the hallway. I still have so many questions.”

  “Like what?” asked George.

  “Like, if this is Beverly,” I said, “how is she getting the images of the missing people into those photographs? Wouldn’t she need the combination to open up the picture frames? And if she did kidnap Grace and Jacob, then where is she hiding them now? No one we spoke to today saw either of them leave the museum. And what is the end goal here? Is it all just to make sure no one has another DeSantos exhibit again?”

  The three of just looked at one another. None of us had the answers.

  “So what do we do next?” asked Bess, breaking the silence.

  “Riley said she would e-mail us more information about Christopher DeSantos and his work partner, Terry Lawrence,” I said. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing in their story. I want to read through that information as soon as possible.”

  “Too bad there’s no Wi-Fi in this hotel,” George grumbled. “Or good cell service anywhere around here.”

  “Oh!” said Bess. “Lucas and I went to a coffee shop today. They have free Wi-Fi for customers. I can take us there tomorrow morning.”

  “Perfect!” I said. I looked over to see George nodding enthusiastically. I suspected she was less excited about reading more on the subject of Christopher DeSantos and Terry Lawrence than she was just to get back onto the Internet in general.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Coffee, Croissants, and Curses

  THE NEXT MORNING BESS, GEORGE, and I headed over to the coffee shop Bess had mentioned. It was called the Bean and Briar Coffee Shop, and it felt more like an overfilled living room than a café. Instead of regular tables and chairs, there was an assortment of large, plushy sofas and coffee tables. We found a pair of couches, one large and one small, near the window. When we sat down, we all sank into them, and I knew it was going to be difficult to stand back up.
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  We also ordered some pastries for breakfast, and three cups of coffee. George pulled out her laptop and had it propped up on her knees. She was typing furiously.

  “Did Riley send us anything?” I asked her, as I cautiously sipped my hot, steaming beverage.

  George nodded from behind her screen. “Apparently she went to the library earlier this morning to do some more research and send us the resources. I think she’s caught the detective bug, Nancy.”

  I laughed. “Well, that’s lucky for us.”

  George spun the computer around so Bess and I could see the screen. There was a photograph pulled up of two men posing near a large canyon. I didn’t recognize one of them, but the other was clearly a young Christopher DeSantos. He looked younger than any image I had seen of him so far, like he was maybe in his twenties. I guessed that the man next to him had to be Terry Lawrence.

  Both of the men were smiling, and they had their arms around each other. They were dressed in boots and cargo shorts, and looking more closely, I could see that they each were wearing an assortment of trinkets: bracelets and necklaces and other things they must have picked up on their travels. Terry Lawrence even had a large, triangle-shaped earring hanging from his right ear.

  “Could you send this to my phone, George?” I asked. I wanted to download it now, while we still had Wi-Fi. “And any other photographs you find.”

  George nodded. She also showed us the photograph that had supposedly ended DeSantos and Lawrence’s partnership. It was a beautiful image, a shot of a canyon angled in such a way that the formation seemed to go on forever. But truthfully, I still liked the photographs I had seen of people more. Like the one of DeSantos and Lawrence. I felt like there had to be more clues inside that photograph that I just wasn’t seeing yet.

  “Anything else, George?” I asked.

  “I found Terry Lawrence’s obituary,” said George. “If that helps.”

  “What does it say?” asked Bess.

  “Not too much,” said George. “It says that he continued taking photographs for most of his life, until he eventually lost his sight. He moved to West Virginia to be closer to his children and his three grandchildren and died in 2010. That’s all, really.”