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She glanced over at Trey. “Cleo was painting, so it might take her a couple minutes to pull out. But maybe I should go check. It has been a while.”
“Let’s give them another minute. It’s quiet. The dogs are settled.”
“You mean you don’t think we’re going to find the mirror up here either.”
“Still gotta look.” When he reached the side wall, he tapped his way along it. “Maybe there’s a space.”
“Like a hidden door. Like the servant’s door. I did the same thing in the music room.” Willing to try again, she wound her way to the opposite side to tap.
“You said you remember standing in front of it. Nothing else?”
“Not about the where. I could see through it, through the glass. Movement, like shadows at first, then clearer. But the rest is blank, and frustrating. Because I notice details. It’s part of what I do. Does that sound hollow?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so either.” She reached for another sheet. The dogs’ heads came up, in unison. And she heard footsteps, then Cleo’s voice.
“We’re moving right along here,” Trey called out.
“Sorry.” Cleo brushed her hair back as they stepped into the attic. “We were making a deal. Apparently, Owen’s an art collector.”
Trey just frowned at him. “Since when?”
“I’ve got some art. Cleo wants a boat.”
“You do?” Surprised, Sonya bundled the sheet aside.
“I want a sweet little Sunfish to sail Poole’s Bay on summer Sundayafternoons. The chest I want is over in that section, by the way. You can’t miss it. It’s Davy Jones’s locker. Davy Jones!”
Laughing she bent down to rub Jones. “Now I get it.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to be obvious.”
“Why don’t the two of you take that section?” Trey pointed. “If we spread out, we’ll cover more ground.”
Cleo gave Trey a sorrowful look. “So said every soon-to-be-slashed-to-ribbons character in a horror movie.”
“This ain’t no movie.” So saying, Owen headed left.
“Oh well.” Cleo followed.
They went inch by inch, foot by foot. Cleo got her chest, and Sonya found a pair of teak chairs she wanted for the widow’s walk.
They found mirrors—wall mirrors, hand mirrors, cheval glass—but they didn’t findthemirror.
In the ballroom section, Cleo started a pile of take-downstairs items.
“This is like the best antiques shop ever. I mean, look at this little lamp.”
A nude goddess in bronze formed the base. The hard candy–pink shade dripped with crystals.
“It looks like it came out of a whorehouse,” Owen commented.
“Iknow! I love it. She’s going to sit on a table in my sitting room. Unless you want her, Sonya.”
“She’s all yours. Antiques shop, bordello, fun house. I swear, every time I come up here I see something I didn’t see before. I should’ve taken all the sheets off first round. Eventually I should move some of this to some of the third-floor bedrooms. They’re not all furnished, and it seems wasteful to have so much stuck up here.
“Eventually,” she added. “Because I don’t see using any of those rooms in the near future.”
