Chapter 4 - THE ROOM BEHIND THE PORTRAIT
Police arrived before sunset.
Sebastian insisted Margaret must have cut herself and fled in confusion. Celeste rejected the explanation and demanded a full search of the estate.
Detective Julian Cross took charge.
He was in his early forties, with tired eyes and the patient voice of someone accustomed to lies.
He first questioned Ivy in the library.
Ellen sat beside her.
“Tell me everything from the moment you arrived,” Julian said.
Ivy described the portrait corridor, Margaret’s reaction to her necklace, Sebastian’s threat, and the wallet on the stairs.
When she repeated what Sebastian had whispered, Julian stopped writing.
“He said Margaret was paid to make sure the second girl disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“You are certain?”
“I didn’t hear the beginning, but I heard that.”
Ellen squeezed Ivy’s hand.
Julian asked to examine her pendant.
The silver was scratched and tarnished. On the back, beneath years of wear, were two tiny engraved letters.
R. V.
“What do those letters mean?” Ivy asked.
“I don’t know.”
Julian photographed the pendant.
“Do not give this to anyone.”
“Do you believe me?”
“I believe someone in this house does not want us asking who you are.”
That was not quite the answer she wanted, but it was enough.
After the interview, Ivy and Ellen were told to remain in the mansion until the police finished searching the grounds.
Celeste waited outside the library.
She looked less like the powerful woman from the charity poster now. Her hair had loosened. Her eyes were red.
“I need to speak with Ivy.”
Ellen stood.
“She has been accused and humiliated enough.”
“I know.”
“You called her a thief in front of a hundred people.”
“I was wrong.”
Ellen’s expression did not soften.
Celeste turned to Ivy.
“I have no excuse. I believed the easiest explanation because of how you were dressed and why you were here.”
Ivy looked away.
“I am sorry,” Celeste said. “Not because of the photograph. Because I treated you as if your dignity mattered less than mine.”
Ivy had imagined wealthy people apologizing differently.
She expected excuses, qualifications, or demands for forgiveness.
Celeste offered none.
“Where did you get the photograph?” Ivy asked.
“It has been in that wallet for as long as I can remember.”
“You never asked who the other girl was?”
“I did. My mother said she was the daughter of a former servant.”
“Was Eleanor Whitmore your real mother?”
Celeste hesitated.
“That is what I have always believed.”
A loud crash sounded from the portrait corridor.
They rushed outside.
One of the large paintings had fallen from the wall.
It was the portrait of Celeste as a child.
Behind it was a narrow metal door.
The lock had been broken from the inside.
Julian approached with two officers.
“Everyone stay back.”
He opened the door.
A small room lay behind the wall.
There was no window.
A child-sized bed stood in one corner. Faded stars had been painted across the ceiling. Rusted chains were attached to the bedframe.
Celeste covered her mouth.
On the wall, written repeatedly in black crayon, was one word.
ROSE.
Ivy stepped closer.
The handwriting grew larger and more desperate across the plaster.
ROSE.
ROSE.
ROSE.
At the bottom of the wall was a message.
I WILL FIND YOU WHEN THE SUN IS WHOLE.
Celeste touched her pendant.
“I wrote this.”
“How do you know?” Julian asked.
“I recognize the shape of the R.”
She stared at the chains.
“I was kept here.”
A police officer called from the doorway.
“Detective, there’s something under the mattress.”
Julian lifted the thin mattress.
Beneath it lay a cassette recorder and a small tape labeled CLARA, AGE NINE.
Celeste’s hands began to shake.
The recorder still contained batteries, but they had corroded long ago.
Julian placed the tape in an evidence bag.
“We’ll find a way to play it.”
A second officer entered.
“We searched the east wing. No sign of Margaret.”
“What about the blood?”
“It leads to the old service elevator.”
“Where does it go?”
“Basement, ground floor, second floor.”
“Anything else?”
The officer looked toward Sebastian, who had just entered the corridor.
“We found the missing thousand dollars.”
Sebastian’s face remained calm.
“Where?”
“In Margaret Vale’s room.”
Ivy felt Ellen stiffen beside her.
Julian did not look convinced.
“Anything else in the room?”
“A train ticket,” the officer said. “Departure at six tomorrow morning.”
Sebastian exhaled.
“So Margaret stole the money and ran.”
“No,” Ivy said.
Every adult turned toward her.
“She took the photograph because she wanted to protect something. The money and ticket were placed there.”
Sebastian smiled without warmth.
“That is a dramatic theory.”
Ivy looked directly at him.
“You knew where the second girl was sent.”
May you like
His smile faded.
“And Margaret knew you were afraid she had come back.”
