The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(47)

Stevie sat back and spun this around in her mind.

“Why didn’t anyone notice what Gertie said about a phone call before?” she asked.

Fenton smiled and tapped a finger alongside her nose.

“Exactly the right question. Because no one ever asked her. They seem to have gone to great lengths not to ask anyone in Minerva House about phone calls. And Gertie van Coevorden did not strike me as being one of the nation’s great thinkers. I don’t think she noticed that the phone call was missing, from the accounts of things. But I did.”

“So what does it mean? Someone called Minerva? That makes sense—they’d be looking for Dottie.”

“Right again,” Fenton said. “So why does the record of this phone call not exist? The answer is in the building plan of Ellingham Academy.”

She went to the wall of black-and-white photos of the house and grounds.

“You know there are tunnels up there, right? You’ve been in the most famous one. But there are others. Many have been partially earthed in or sealed for safety—but the whole point of secret tunnels was that they were secret. Personal use. According to Gertie, there was a tunnel in Minerva.”

“In Minerva?” Stevie said. “I live in Minerva.”

“Any word of a tunnel there?”

“Nothing that I’ve heard.”

“Gertie was convinced of it. She said another student found it, that she had seen this student disappear and reappear.”

“Where does it go?”

“If my guess is right, it goes to somewhere on the other side of the campus, somewhere secluded, sort of over here.”

She got up and pointed to the area down near the cafeteria and the gym.

“So, if we find this tunnel,” Stevie said, “where does it get us?”

“I have a little theory,” Fenton said. “If I can prove the tunnel exists, my theory is more likely.”

“What’s the theory?” Stevie said.

“For me to know. But if I’m right, and this book turns out the way I think it will, you’ll have been a part of it. There’s your assignment. See about that tunnel. Scout around.”

Stevie decided not to mention that tunneling was kind of frowned upon. Best to leave that alone. She had just been given an official assignment.

Hunter was sitting in the living room as they walked out, petting a big orange cat on his lap.

“All done?” he said. “You need a ride, or . . .”

“Leave her alone,” Fenton snapped. “They have a coach.”

Fenton sneezed, then yanked a copy of her book off a pile of what looked like old copies.

“Here,” she said. “For you.”

Stevie had one already, and this one had yellowed edges, but she accepted it. Fenton went off to the kitchen, their exchange finished.

“I just meant if you needed one,” Hunter said. “Sorry. She’s . . . abrupt.”

“No, it’s fine,” Stevie said. “They don’t let people come up to campus, anyway.”

“Oh, right.” His cheeks flushed a bit. “Yeah. Stupid. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said.

“Look,” he said. “Is it weird if I give you my phone number? Just since you’re working with my aunt and . . .”

He looked toward the kitchen, where Fenton was humming loudly.

“. . . you may, you may want it. Or. You may not.”

“Sure,” Stevie said, offering her phone.

She wasn’t sure why he was giving her his number—whether it was the smile he had given her before, or the erratic nature of Fenton that suggested that something was not quite right with this whole arrangement. It was a phone number in any case, someone else to connect with.

It wasn’t the worst feeling.





13


AT SIX THAT EVENING, AS THE DAY DREW TO A CLOSE AND THE SHADOWS fell over Ellingham, Stevie Bell stood in her room, tucking herself into the suit that still smelled strongly of mothballs and must from the costume attic. She stood before the mirror and did what the famously fastidious Belgian detective would do—she adjusted her mustache until it was perfect. She tucked a pillow into her front to fill out her belly a bit and take up some of the extra space in the baggy suit. She’d found a walking-stick prop and some white gloves, and the overall effect was pleasing.

This tunnel stuff was stupid. If there was a tunnel under Minerva, someone would have found it by now. David. Ellie. Someone. It would have loomed large in the legend.

Still, a passable effort would need to be made. Hercule would look.

The source of the tunnel would have to be on the first floor. This meant the possible entry points were the kitchen, the common room, the hallway, either one of the two bathrooms, or any of the three bedrooms. She had already crawled all over Ellie’s floor. There was no evidence of a tunnel in there. Of course, entrances could be carefully hidden, but still. She got down and examined her floor, crawling, tapping, picking at the boards. Nothing.

She could check Janelle’s room later. Janelle was deep into her Wonder Woman transformation and could not be disturbed. But it seemed unlikely that the bedrooms were the source. The entry would have to be through the floor.

She went to the kitchen, poking into the back of the cabinets with her stick. It was possible the refrigerator or the stove or dishwasher could have been covering the opening, but then, surely these spots had been checked. You needed to hook these things up with water and gas. The refrigerator was heavy. A hollow spot under it would likely have been found.