“Can’t hear you,” I lie, letting the door to the stairs slam behind me.
If he’s lucky, I’ll save him a clue.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONETHE 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 saysFree 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 roomlike 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 theremightbe 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 nota 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.
