Chapter Thirty-One. The Body with The Hollow Eyes
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE BODY WITH THE HOLLOW EYES
I’m standing in front of the portrait when Felix catches up.
He’s breathing hard, but then so am I. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen slowing down my thought processes, because I have no idea what eureka moment Mr. Gutierrez expects us to have.
It’s a painting of Claude, holding Zenobia, in a fancy frame. Nothing about it says Free Clues Here!
“Maybe he left something in your coat.” I nod at the velvet dinner jacket that now belongs to Felix. “Did you check the pockets?”
“Nothing but a dry-cleaning tag.” Felix steps back, clasping his hands behind his head. “I think we should take it down,” he says after studying the painting from several different angles.
Why didn’t I think of that? A zing of excitement hits me at the thought of finding a hidden message on the back. What if Claude left a secret addendum to his will, something that will foil his sister’s plans?
We pull a chair over to the wall, because we’re too impatient to hunt for a stepladder. Felix lifts the frame off the hook and passes it to me. It’s heavier than expected, but I manage to lower it to the carpet, waiting for Felix to jump down before slowly turning it around.
“Nothing,” he says after we both stare helplessly, waiting for a discovery that isn’t there.
I’m not ready to accept the anticlimax. “Does this panel come off?” My fingers are already sliding around the edges, stalling at the unexpected brush of metal. If there are hinges, then it must be designed to move.
Sure enough, a tab on the opposite side slides to the right. I wedge my fingernails under the edge and pry it open.
“Is it something with the eyes?” Felix bends to inspect the mechanism that moves the painted eyeballs back and forth.
It’s about as complex as a push-pull tab in a picture book.
Left, right, left, right. As a gag, it’s funny and very Claude, but I don’t see how it’s going to help us now.
Unless there’s something we’re still not seeing?
“Hold on,” I tell Felix. He stops nudging the lever so I can prop the frame upright. Kneeling behind it, I line up my eyes with Claude’s. “Oh dang!”
“What?” Felix asks, crouching in front of the canvas in a misguided attempt to figure out what I’m talking about. “I don’t see it.”
“No, but I see you.” I lean sideways so he can see the excitement on my face. “It’s a freaking peephole!”
“Really?”
I nod, holding on to the frame as I shift sideways to let him see for himself.
“I had no idea,” he breathes, staring at the familiar room like it’s the inside of a kaleidoscope. “You can’t tell from the front.”
“I know! This is perfect. We can totally spy on people.”
Felix leans the painting against a chair, scooting forward until we’re facing each other on the rug, crisscross applesauce.
“How would we do that?” His voice is gentle, like he’s letting me down easy. “Are we going to carry around a big painting and hope they don’t notice the legs sticking out the bottom?”
If the painting has a peephole, there must be a way to peep.
End of story. My gaze snags on the patch of wallpaper previously obscured by Claude’s portrait.
The botanical pattern is intricate, so it’s hard to tell for sure but I think there might be something else going on, besides the vines and flowers.
After climbing onto the chair, I give the wall a pat down.
“What’s on the other side of this?” I ask Felix. The faux fireplace is maybe two inches deep, closer to a stage set than the real thing, so I know the answer is not a chimney.
“Bold of you to assume I keep a blueprint in my pocket.”
I’m about to suggest he walk down the hall and find out when my questing fingers detect a seam in the wallpaper. It’s horizontal, not vertical, so it’s not the line where two panels join. Hopping down from the chair, I head straight for the door.
“Hang the picture back up, will you?” I call over my shoulder.
He mutters something, but I don’t stop. I’m on a mission. Hallway, hallway, corner, more hallway … “Oh hello,” I murmur, already reaching for the knob. “What’s this?”
“I think that’s where they keep the extra cleaning stuff,” Felix answers, but he’s right behind me as I step through the doorway.
Ignoring the aroma of bleach and damp mop, I pick my way over to the far wall. Slightly above my head, two small knobs have been attached to a rectangular piece of wood. It slides out easily, and I’m not surprised to see that the front is covered in a familiar wallpaper pattern.
Setting the decoy piece of wall on a utility shelf, I rise onto my tiptoes.
“Do you want a boost?” Felix asks.
He’s standing a lot closer than I expect, so when I turn to give him a rude look, I smack into his chest. “Just tell me,” I grumble, ducking down so he can look through the opening.
Felix leans even closer, pressing his forehead to the wall. “Hmm.”
“What? What do you see?”
“It’s definitely the dining room.”
“And? Will it work?”
He pulls away from the wall, but only takes a half step back, so our faces are close enough together for him to whisper. “The spying part? I think so. Once we get you a booster chair.”
For the record, I am a totally average height. But I’m too excited to argue. “Now we just need to lure her here and get her talking. As soon as we figure out how to set the scene.”
“Set the scene as in—”
“A very special game of Killing Me Softly,” I finish for him. “Except Bernie can’t know that’s what it is, because she would refuse to play, so it’ll look like real life.” In a roundabout way, this is Claude’s last wish, finally coming true.
“You still think Mervyn is our guy?” Felix asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you sure he’s ready to take point on this?”
It’s definitely a gamble. He’s a lawyer, not an actor, but Mervyn does love this place—and I can’t feature him saying no to Grandma Lainey.
“We’ll present it to him as an audition. If he wants to join the cast of Killing Me Softly, this is his chance to show them what he’s got.”
“And he gets to ride to the rescue. Much more dramatic than sitting at his desk moving papers around.” Felix frowns. “This is legal, right?”
“Ideally no one will have time to ask themselves questions like that because it will all be happening so fast.” I make a zooming motion with my hand. “Now, who should we talk to first?”
You might think there would be pushback if a couple of high school students announced their plan to catch a possible killer by staging an elaborate undercover sting, but the Castle Claude crew is built different.
It helps that we lead with the fact that it’s our first time running a game of Killing Me Softly, like that’s the main agenda.
They don’t come right out and say it, but I can tell they’re overjoyed we’re following in their footsteps.
Chip off the old block, et cetera. Our halos are polished to a high shine.
“And you came up with it together?” Mrs. A is all aflutter, sighing and pressing her hands to her heart.
“What do you need?” Grandma Lainey asks, getting down to business while Mrs. A enjoys her one-woman swoonfest.
I look at Felix, who nods. “We need Mervyn,” I tell them.
He arrives within the hour, carrying a potted orchid “for everyone,” which he hands directly to my grandmother.
“Is it one of yours?” she asks, inspecting the dangling purple-and-white blossoms.
Mervyn nods, visibly pleased that she asked. Hopefully he’ll be better at hiding his true feelings when he’s dragging a confession out of Claude’s sister. If he agrees to go through with it.
“Why don’t you bring Mervyn up to speed while I find the perfect spot for this?” Grandma Lainey says, lifting the ceramic pot.
“Indirect sunlight,” Mervyn calls after her.
It feels like she’s abandoning us, until I realize it’s a ploy to let me and Felix take the lead. I dive in before I can second guess myself.
“We want you to play a game of Killing Me Softly.”
“Really?” He glances between us, like he can’t quite believe his ears.
“With a twist,” Felix says, and I follow up like we’ve rehearsed this bit:
“Because you’ll be investigating a real crime.”
Mervyn blinks, taking that in. “I take it you’re referring to Bradley Odell’s death.”
“We think there’s something going on,” I tell him. “With Bernie.”
“Besides the building stuff,” Felix adds.
We go back and forth like that, eventually cobbling together the main point: there’s a chance Claude’s sister knows more than she’s letting on—and we want to find out what it is.
Mervyn is quiet for a long time after we finish. I have a sinking feeling he’s going to say something patronizing like, That’s sweet of you, but we should leave this to the authorities, because of legal reasons x, y, and z.
When he finally lifts his head to look me in the eye, I hold my breath.
“How can I be of service?”
Beside me, Felix exhales like he’s blowing into a noisemaker.
“Mervyn, you’re wonderful,” Grandma Lainey says, which is when we realize she’s been lurking in the doorway.
The praise makes him squirm, ducking his head to hide his face while he fiddles with his bow tie.
“There are two parts to the plan,” I tell him. “First you need to convince her to meet with you, and it has to be in this room.”
“Why not my office? She might be more at ease there.” He catches me glancing at the painting, and I see it hit him. “Ah. You’re going to watch.”
“And record it,” Felix says. “That’s phase two, once you lure her down here.”
Mervyn’s smile is wistful. “Claude would be delighted to know you were using the portrait to save his building.”
It’s my turn to squirm. No pressure! “We had a few ideas for your cover story—”
“Leave that to me,” Mervyn interrupts. “Why don’t I call her right now?”
Grandma Lainey raises an eyebrow as he steps outside.
“What?” I ask.
“I think you’ve unleashed something in Mervyn. He’s not usually that decisive.”
“He’s rising to the occasion,” Mrs. A agrees, wandering in with a bowl of red grapes. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”
“Indeed.” My grandmother helps herself to a few grapes, chewing with a thoughtful expression.
Mervyn returns holding his phone in front of him like a trophy. “She agreed to meet tomorrow at two.”
“And so it begins,” Grandma Lainey intones, as if she’s standing onstage.