Chapter Ten
TEN
The detectives let us go after they’re finished with all three of us, but the gallery has turned into a literal crime scene.
I’ve only ever seen people in those disposable white all-in-one suits on TV, and even though I feel sick when I think about Helen, it’s strangely fascinating to watch something like this play out in real time. I don’t say that out loud, though.
“Please call me when you get home. I believe your father left you my number for emergencies,” Alessandra says as the taxi she ordered for us pulls up.
The police will have our phones until the morning at least, because the lockers are part of the crime scene and can’t be disturbed yet.
Thankfully Dad’s ancient apartment still has a landline.
“I will.” I hesitate but then reach out and awkwardly hug her. “Thank you for looking after us.”
“You can still stay at my place if you want to,” she offers, hugging Izzy, who has barely spoken all night. “My partner works over at the hospital and he’s on night shifts, so it will just be us.”
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine, I promise,” I say, ushering Izzy into the car. I need to be somewhere familiar right now, and all our stuff is at Dad’s. “I’ll call when we’re back.”
Alessandra waves goodbye, and Izzy and I ride home in silence, not exchanging a word until we’re out of the car and through the front door.
I double- and triple-check the locks as Izzy slumps down at the kitchen table, her eyes haunted.
I leave her for a second as I check all the windows, then quickly ring Alessandra and let her know we’re home safe.
She makes me promise to speak to her again in the morning.
I’m too tired to argue, so I agree. When I reenter the kitchen, Izzy is holding her head in her hands.
“You okay, Iz?”
“No.” She lifts her head. “Did that really happen?”
I don’t know what to say, so I try to think what my mom would do to make me feel better. Or Kim, for that matter. I find a packet of Sleepytime tea and fill the kettle before putting it on to boil. Focusing on doing something to help Izzy is good. Distracting.
“Right, you go and get ready for bed, and I’ll bring tea and chocolate in a sec.”
“Not even remotely hungry,” Izzy groans, but she pushes herself up and leaves the kitchen.
I fill two mugs with tea bags and steaming water and grab the tin of treats I found in the cupboard, then follow her.
She’s already in her pajamas and under my duvet, so I put the cups down on the bedside table and snuggle in next to her, placing the treats on my lap.
I eye the chocolate rolls and packets of jelly sweets, but my appetite is nonexistent too.
“This will help us sleep.” I put the box on the table and pass over a mug instead. She wrinkles her nose. “I know it’s stinky, but I’m willing to try anything to sleep after what we saw tonight.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks.” She takes the cup and blows on the tea to cool it. “How are you so calm, Fliss?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Once I spoke to Detective Romig and told her everything I saw, it helped, I think.”
“It didn’t make it feel even more real?”
“It did, but it also made it a case, I guess. It removed me from it a bit, like the crimes I read about.” I wince even as the words are coming out of my mouth. I sound heartless. Luckily Izzy doesn’t call me out on it, so she’s either not really listening or is choosing to let it slide.
Izzy groans. “I wish I had my phone. All I want to do is call my mom, although if she finds out what happened, she’ll be here to drag me home before I finish this tea.”
“I know. I feel bad not texting Dad, but I don’t want it to be the first thing he hears when he gets off the plane.
I made Alessandra promise to wait until tomorrow morning to contact him.
” I glance over at the sofa bed, which is still scattered with our stuff from earlier today.
“I forgot—I have my iPad, if you want? My contacts and messages should all be synced up to it, so you can text your mom to say you’ll speak to her tomorrow? It might make you feel better.”
“That’s a good idea.” She jumps out of bed and grabs the iPad, handing it over so I can tap in the code.
I watch her find her mom’s number and type quickly, smiling as she gets an almost immediate response.
“Done. I told her my phone is updating. I’ll talk to her properly tomorrow, before your dad does.
” She hands the iPad back and blows on her tea. “Let’s watch something for a bit?”
“Sure,” I agree, grateful for another distraction.
I flick in and out of a few apps without really taking them in and prop the case up on my lap, picking up the stinky tea as Izzy reels off films that usually make her feel better.
We’re in the middle of searching for a joint favorite, Howl’s Moving Castle, when the tablet buzzes and a banner flashes across the top of the screen.
An unknown number has just added me to a group chat.
“What’s this?” I put my mug down and open the message. Izzy puts her chin on my shoulder so she can see too.
“That’s me!” she exclaims, pointing at the little icon of her face in the list of members. “Who added us?”
“I don’t recognize any of the other numbers,” I say, a shiver running down my spine. A little bubble appears on-screen.
Someone is typing.
My breath catches when the message appears.
Unknown: What happened at the art gallery? Mom got a late-night email about it being closed tomorrow due to a police investigation. Did you guys make off with something valuable?
“Oh god,” Izzy mutters, and I know exactly what she means.
I’ve been so busy trying to rationalize what happened that I didn’t anticipate people asking us about it.
How do we even start to explain what we saw tonight?
Izzy points at the screen. “You know who it is, don’t you?
Noah. He mentioned setting up a group chat earlier, but his timing leaves something to be desired. ”
Another message appears.
Unknown: No answer. There are only two options—either they’re in jail or the curse of the painting got them.
“Is he always this hilarious?” I say drily.
“Apparently so.” Izzy scowls, taking the iPad from me and typing furiously.
Fliss: Not funny, Noah. We’ve had a horrible night.
Unknown: Seriously, are you all okay? I can see police cars from where I’m staying. S x
“S must be Scarlett,” I say, half annoyed at Noah’s poor timing but mainly relieved it’s not the killer messaging me, which was my first thought. A message appears from the final number.
Unknown: Are you both home safe? F
My shoulders relax a little. Ford. And that question is easier to answer, at least. I take the iPad and type.
Fliss: Yes, we’re at home. Thanks for checking.
Scarlett: What happened?
I start and delete the same sentence three times. I know they can see my little bubble promising a message. The problem is, I don’t know what to say.
Noah: Fliss? Are you really both okay?
I sigh and commit to the words, sending a message that is brief but to the point. Better to get it out there now, and it’s not like the detectives said we couldn’t discuss it.
Fliss: The waitress from the catering agency is dead and we found her body. I think the police are investigating it as a murder.
I peel my eyes open slowly, taking a second to rouse myself.
There’s a buzzing sound somewhere below me, and I pat around for my phone before remembering I don’t have it.
Izzy is snoring softly next to me, so I slip out of bed to avoid waking her and spot the iPad on the floor as it lights up with a video call, vibrating along the wooden floor.
As I scoop it up, the memory of finding Helen’s body slams into my mind with such force that I gasp.
“Oh god,” I croak, my waking mind recoloring the scene, even though I really don’t want it to.
I leave the room as quietly as I can, swiping the screen to accept the call.
“Mom!”
“Felicity!” I almost weep as she appears on-screen. “Baby, are you all right? Your dad called me. He said someone from the gallery told him what happened. I’m looking at flights right now.”
“You don’t have to do that. Give me a second, I don’t want to wake Iz.”
I tiptoe to the living room and slide the doors shut before I burrow down on the sofa and bring the iPad with me, turning it on its side as I curl up in the fetal position.
Mom looks healthy—tanned, even—after a few days in the sun, and her hair is in its natural curly state, not straightened within an inch of its life as usual.
“I’m okay. You just woke me up, that’s all. It took a minute to get my bearings.”
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I’ve been frantic, but Darren said it would be best to let you sleep for a while.” I flick my eyes to the corner of the screen. Just after eleven. We’ve slept for almost twelve hours and missed the pottery class. “How is Izzy?”
“She’s okay too, I think.” My vision blurs as silent tears stream down my face. They grow cold as soon as they touch my skin, seeping into my hair before pooling on the cushion. “It was horrible, Mom. How could somebody do that to another person?”
“I don’t know, baby.” She furrows her brow in concern, and I sniffle back more tears. “But Ethan is as happy as anything here with Darren and his grandparents, so I can be on the first available flight home if you need me.”
“No, you need to be there for Darren while his mom has surgery. Plus, Ethan’s only little—he won’t understand why you’re not there. Did Dad say what he was doing?” I sit up.
“He’s changing their return flights. He has to be back for some legal stuff at the gallery.” Mom pulls a face but doesn’t say anything else, and I know that “legal stuff” is actually the police investigation.
“So he probably won’t be long, and I have Izzy until then.”
Mom smiles this time. “Well, you say the word and I’ll be there. I mean it, Fliss.”
“I will, thank you. Have you spoken to Izzy’s mom yet?”
“No, but I will. Should we let them talk first? I know there’s a lot going on with Sophie at the moment.”
“Yeah, there is. I’ll tell Iz to talk to her and then let you know. Is that okay?”
“Just don’t wait too long to—oof!” The screen wobbles as if it has taken a knock, and then my baby brother’s chocolate-stained face fills it. “I think Ethan wants to say hi,” Mom says.
“Hiiiiiiii, Fliss. Where are you?”
“Hey, dude! I’m at my dad’s, you know that. How’s Australia?”
Ethan tells me all about the pool in his grandparents’ back garden and the koala bear at the zoo that he thought was going to poop on him and the unlimited ice cream he got after dinner.
I gasp and laugh in the appropriate places and realize that a dose of my little brother’s happiness is exactly what I needed.
I wish I was there with them instead of being Miss Independent.
When Mom eventually wrestles the phone from him, I feel almost back to normal.
“We have to get him to bed, Fliss, but I’ll keep checking in. Your dad said he’ll sort you out a new phone if the police…if you don’t get it back.”
“Okay. Thanks. Say hi to Darren, and give Ethan a big squeeze for me.”
“If he sits still I will. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too.”
The call ends, and increasingly worried texts from Dad that must have come through in the early-morning hours fill the screen.
I send one to let him know we’re okay and that I’ve spoken to Mom and he doesn’t need to ring me.
I have no idea what time it is there, but he sends a message straight back to say the hotel is organizing his flight home.
Thank god. As much as we were looking forward to having the place to ourselves, that has quickly changed.
Before I forget, I quickly shoot a text to Alessandra, like I promised, then push myself off the sofa and head for the bathroom.
I need a scalding hot shower. As I pass through the hallway, I spot the tarot card and a pink crystal Kim must have left for me yesterday.
It sits on the console beneath the space where the portrait hung, and there’s a Post-it stuck to the well-worn card.
The Hermit—knowledge and wisdom.
Rose quartz—promotes healthy, harmonious relationships.
K x
I leave them where they are, even though the meaning behind the crystal is touching. Maybe I’ll let Kim tell me more about it when they get home, which should be soon.
I lock the bathroom door behind me and make sure the shower is steaming before I scrub my skin red raw. The word “knowledge” swirls around in my head as I try to distract myself. We’ve missed the pottery session but should still be able to spend the afternoon working on our projects.
My mind drifts to the painting. What are the chances that I should find a missing self-portrait stuffed with pictures of The Four?
I wonder if Professor Williams was keeping his find quiet because he was trying to prove that the painter really did murder those women, before he went public with the knowledge.
And then the curse got him before he could…
I shake my head at the unpleasant thought. I haven’t had a chance to look through the papers yet, but I’m in need of a distraction to take my mind off last night, so what better time than now?
I dry off from the shower, go back to my room and get dressed before gently shaking Izzy awake. She yawns as I take my notebook from the desk and extract the papers.
I have some reading to do.