they had panic rooms when the house was built.”
“What year do you think that was?”
“About the same time as mine, I think, so about the mid-eighteen-hundreds.”
“But why build a room that doesn’t lead anywhere?”
“Who knows? Maybe the original owner had some deep, dark secrets he wanted to keep hidden.”
“Do you know who owned it originally?”
“I only know that it’s been in the Gallagher family for years. At least that’s what the ghost story suggests, so I’m assuming that it was built by the family.”
“I can certainly see why a room like this would give credence to ghost legends. But I think we need to do more digging into the family background if we want any idea why this would have been built. It might answer a few questions.”
“This could be how the person who stole the books got in and out of the library when the door was bolted from the inside.”
“Exactly. I’m guessing that they stayed hidden in here until the police left and the coast was clear for them to make a run for it.”
There were no markings on the brick from what she could see, and the room was empty except for something white in the corner just over her shoulder. “Look.”
“It’s a folding stepladder.”
“It’s one of those plastic three-step ones. It’s not wooden like one you’d expect to find in a seventy-plus-year-old house.”
“Which means it’s newer.”
“Very new,” Addie said, opening the stool with her gloved hand. “It’s hardly got any dust or grime on it.” She took a closer look at the walls. “See that?” She placed the stool at the opening to the hidden room and climbed onto the top step, slid a disk aside, and peered out. “This explains why I always felt like someone was watching me in the room.”
“What do you see?”
“Take a look for yourself.” She clambered down.
Simon climbed up on the stool. “Wow, that’s a pretty good view of the entire room.”
“Yes,” Addie said from the library side of the hearth, and ducked back into the brick enclosure. “And it’s camouflaged by the left eye of the man in the painting over the mantel.”
Simon climbed down. “That means while the thief waited for everyone to leave, he could also hear what was going on in the library. That’s why he was always one step ahead of everyone else.”
“This is probably where he stashed the other things he stole, waited in here until everyone left for the day, and then had no problem slipping them out at night.”
“It’s also how he learned that you had broken your nail and the value of the books you found.”
“Not to mention the existence of the Beeton’s first proof of A Study in Scarlet, which alone is worth over a hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars.”
Philip Atkinson flashed in her mind. Despite the fact that she had only discovered the books on Wednesday, and they hadn’t been advertised in the auction catalogue, she knew by his comments in her store that he was aware of their existence. He did have a reputation as a ruthless broker who would stop at nothing to get what his client wanted. The only reason he would be here in the first place was because one of his clients wanted something in particular from this estate sale. It stood to reason, given that the Holmes collection reproductions would have taken a day or two to locate, someone had to have known about the books’ existence before Wednesday. That someone was either Philip himself or someone he was working with on the inside.
“I have to call Marc.”
Simon placed his hand over hers. “I will. There’s less likely to be as much drama since you’re still a suspect, and we haven’t heard that the DA has dropped charges.”
“You’re right. But this can prove that there was another way the books could be stolen. It answers so many questions. I’m just afraid that Ryley will try and make it sound like I knew about this room, and it was me using it.”
“I think that one’s even a reach for her to prove.”
“I hope so.”
When Simon stepped out to talk to Marc, Addie paced the small room, studying the shades of caulking between the bricks. It didn’t make sense that this space had been so well constructed and great pains had been taken to conceal its existence to have it just end in a dead end. There must be something they were missing. Her toe caught on a board edge.
“Simon, look at this.” Crouching, she