“What was Monique doing with this?” Violet said.
He oriented himself to the various rooms on the map. “Look, that’s the library. And something’s circled there in red ink.”
Violet leaned closer. “I think that’s the hearth. What are those two smudged red shapes in the margin next to it? They look like little clouds or something…”
“I don’t know. But look here.” He traced a blunt fingertip along the red line that started from the hearth and ended…
“That can’t be right.” A notch formed between her brows. “That line passes through the wall between the library and study, and I don’t recall there being a door between the two rooms.”
Understanding sliced through him. “There isn’t. But I think this map is telling us that there might be another way in.”
“You mean… a hidden passageway?” Her eyes were huge. “Oh, Richard, what do you think Monique was doing with this map? What was she planning?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said grimly.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A feeling of déjà vu pervaded Violet as she entered the dimly lit library, Richard ahead of her. As he strode off to make sure the room was unoccupied, her gaze was drawn to the bookshelves where they’d found Monique, and her stomach quivered. While she wanted desperately to find the true killer, her anticipation was tempered with disquiet: in retracing Monique’s footsteps, what were they going to discover?
Her grip tightened on the map she’d found beneath the acrobat’s bed.
Richard returned. “We’re alone for now. Let’s get started.”
They went over to the ancient fireplace. Vi’s gaze travelled over the protruding ledge, and she shivered, even though the blood had been scrubbed from the stone. The majestic header swirled with flora and fauna, the plinths supporting the ledge ornately carved with blossoming roses.
Richard was already running his hands over the mantelpiece. “Look for any hidden openings in the nearby walls,” he said.
Setting down the map, Vi examined the dark paneled walls to the right and left of the fireplace. She smoothed her palms over the wood moldings and detected no secret entrance. Evidently, Richard had the same lack of results for he picked up the map again.
“We’re missing something,” he muttered.
She went to look at the plan with him. Something about the smudged red shapes in the margin continued to niggle at her. Pointing, she said, “Whatarethose?”
“They might just be inkblots.”
“I don’t think so.” Squinting, she said, “The ink is smudged, but I see a rounded edge here and another there. It’s a drawing. Of a cloud or a…”
“Flower.” They said it at the same time, their gazes colliding.
“The roses on the plinth,” she breathed.
He went to the plinth on the right side, she to the left. With care, she examined the stone roses: there were three, one facing forward, the other to the sides. She ran her fingers over the cold petals. Nothing special about the center rose… nor the one facing left. As she scrutinized the one facing inward toward the hearth, she noticed a thin fissure, nearly invisible, around one of the petals.
The wear of time… or something else?
“I’ve nothing on my side.” Richard’s voice came from behind her. “You?”
She pushed on the petal, tried to jiggle it; it didn’t budge. “It’s probably nothing, but there’s a crack here…”
“Let me have a look.”
She moved aside to give him space.
“I see what you mean.” He pushed on the petal, and nothing happened. Crouching, he looked at the underside of the flower. “Interesting. There’s another crack here, too, around a different petal…”
He studied the flower, then he pushed down on the two petals simultaneously.
Violet’s breath held as the stone sections depressed at his touch. A faint click… and the large panel to the left of the fireplace swung open.
