The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(23)

“You don’t waste time,” Kyoko said, greeting her. “I only just got the message that you were back.”

Stevie meant to smile and nod, but she ended up enacting the shrug emoticon.

“I need some research material,” Stevie said. “On here, on the school. I need to see anything about the first class. Lists of students for sure. Do you have those?”

Kyoko nodded and took a swig from her Ellingham water bottle. She put a little sign out that said: THE LIBRARIAN WILL BE BACK and waved Stevie through the dark wooden door with the words Library Office written in gold.

The front part of the Ellingham library was a grand place, with its iron and glass and dark, carved wood, and the glorious selection of books. Many of the books had been around since the school opened in 1935—fine, handpicked volumes, many bound in leather, silent witnesses to the events that unfolded there. But it was the back office of the library that got Stevie excited. The back office contained the large metal shelving units of document boxes.

If you loved crime, a document box was a beautiful thing. Anything could be in it. Files. Clues. Evidence. The document box was the thing to pick through, to find the lead, to find the single sentence on the single piece of paper that made you stand so suddenly that your head spun and then you’d know that you cracked the case.

That’s how it happened in Stevie’s head, anyway.

“The early archive is back here,” Kyoko said, indicating one of the shelving units. “You want . . .”

“The first year. 1935–36.”

“Right,” Kyoko said, heading to the end of the first row of shelves. “The 1935–1936 school year at Ellingham Academy was incomplete because of the kidnappings. The school’s first full academic year started in the fall of 1938. You know all that.”

Stevie nodded.

“It was also a very small class. It was the experiment year. So the records aren’t as extensive. There was no full yearbook. However, the school had produced a guide for the first class.”

She opened a folio box and removed a small clothbound book. On the front it read: ELLINGHAM ACADEMY. The paper was thick and brownish, and the ink was a brownish red. The lettering looked hand-drawn.

“There is a box of photographs as well,” Kyoko said, handing Stevie a flat storage box. From the rattle of the contents and the weight, it didn’t sound like it contained a tremendous amount. “You can take those out into the main study room.”

Stevie lifted the box and followed Kyoko back out, then settled herself at one of the big wooden tables and switched on a work lamp. She tried to contain herself as she opened the book. The first page contained an elaborate map of the campus, indicating buildings that were complete and buildings to come. There was a letter from Albert Ellingham welcoming everyone, a list of teachers and faculty . . . Stevie kept flipping until she got to the students. Each one got a third of a page. Frankie was staring up at her from the bottom of the very first page of entries. There was the girl who had dressed as Bonnie Parker. Stevie read the entry underneath.

Francis Josephine Crane, New York City

Birthday: February 15, 1919

Interests: Chemistry, films, ballet

“Got you,” Stevie said under her breath.

A few pages later, she found the next person she was searching for.

Edward Pierce Davenport, Boston

Birthday: November 12, 1918

Interests: Literature, opera, art

In his school photo, Edward had a rakish grin, like he knew something the others did not.

A bit like David.

Stevie dug through the box of photographs. Many were of the buildings or the construction sites. Some were shots of the mountain view. There were pictures of the students sitting at desks and worktables in stilted poses. One pose was a dead ringer for an ad for an ambulance-chasing legal firm with about ten people gathered around, smiling at one open book. Many of the furnishings were exactly the same as they were now, including pictures in this very library. She easily found Francis and Edward in a few of these photos. One thing jumped out at her: Francis and Edward looked rich. Francis was wearing two different fur coats in the photos—one short white jacket and a longer, dark one. Edward also had a long fur coat, and he stood with the casual ease of a rich guy—the lean, the half smile.

Could these two students have kidnapped Iris and Alice Ellingham and Dottie Epstein? That would have been impossible, surely? Someone would have noticed that two students were missing on the day of the kidnapping, right? How would they have gotten off campus? They probably didn’t have cars. Why would two students kidnap Iris and Alice Ellingham? And they wouldn’t have been able to also beat up George Marsh, Albert Ellingham’s FBI agent friend, in the middle of the night, or make the ransom calls, or have a boat on Lake Champlain two days later to collect the additional ransom money. Not alone. Could they have been working with other people?

Did any of this make sense?

Dottie Epstein turned up in the photos as well, and she did not look rich. Her clothes were plain, and she wore the same ones in most of the photos. But she looked much happier than Edward or Francis. Her smile was always wide, and she usually had a book in her hands or under her arm.

“Can I scan these?” she asked Kyoko.

“Sure.”

She allowed Stevie into the back again and pointed her to the scanner.

“When I first got here,” she said to Kyoko, “you showed me some old library records, things the students requested.”