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“I’m guessing we’re not telling that detective we’re doing this,” said Gideon.

“The fewer the people who know, the better,” said Tempest. “If I could avoid telling my dad, I would.”

Tempest called her dad and grandparents to get them on board for that night’s dress rehearsal at Fiddler’s Folly. Darius insisted on being present, as she knew he would. He said he’d make sure that all the sharp equipment was locked away, plus he was setting up a camera high in the eaves so the whole thing would be recorded, and he would be on hand as muscle.

Ash was happy to have an excuse to bake more cookies. He was continuing his stealthy sleuthing under the guise of gossiping with people he knew, but so far, he hadn’t learned anything else of interest, so stress-baking was a welcome task. He was home alone, since Morag was talking with an artist friend who worked on set design for some of the Creekside Players shows, in case she knew anything of interest.

When Tempest got off the phone, Gideon was taking a beaten-up sketchbook from his messenger bag and opening it on the tail of Sanjay’s truck.

“I thought this might be helpful.” He flipped through the pages, stopping at a spread that showed a graphite sketch of the two rooms at Gray House—the living room on the left side of the page, and the second-floor library on the right.

It wasn’t a technical drawing, but was exactly the type of artist sketch he did when thinking about his next stone creation. It showed both the “manor house” drawing room as it was set up for the play rehearsal, and the library escape room they’d been trapped in.

“When did you draw this?” Tempest asked.

“When we were waiting at the station last night, I looked at the plans to the house that Secret Staircase Construction mocked up for the upcoming renovation project. My phone screen wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough. Then I added what I remembered of where the furniture was. I wanted to get my thoughts down on paper about what I’d seen, since I didn’t take photos. Did you two?”

They shook their heads.

“I think you should all look at this sketch and see if I got the details you remember right,” Gideon continued. “Then we can head over to the barn workshop to build a basic reproduction.”

As Tempest watched him tap nervously at the page, she was certain there was something wrong. Something left unsaid. “What aren’t you telling us?”

His calloused finger stopped tapping at the edge of the page, and he smiled as he held her gaze. “It’s what I’m hoping one of you will see. Something I’m missing.”

“I doubt you missed anything,” Tempest said. “You’re the one who sees the details we all miss.” She fought the urge to squeal as she realized exactly what Gideon was doing with his sketch. “It’s not the accuracy of the rooms and furniture. You’re looking for the trick that the setup makes possible.”

He nodded as Tempest continued, “Because we know there’s a trick to Lucas’s killer leaving his body on display.”

Sanjay swore in Punjabi. “Of course. I would have thought of it myself if I hadn’t been so worried about staying alive.”

“I didn’t think of it until I said it aloud,” Tempest admitted. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Either Mrs. Hudson’s camera doesn’t really cover all the entry points to the house, there’s a secret passageway, or there was something mechanical rigged to get the trunk to dump his body out while we were upstairs. Detective Blackburn will find it if there’s something rigged in the trunk to make it pop open.”

“I’d know if someone messed with my trunk,” said Sanjay.

“But it’s locked up as evidence,” Tempest pointed out, “so that’s not happening anytime soon. Let’s get back to what we can do. First, we can look at Gideon’s sketch to make sure he captured everything accurately.” She picked up the notebook.

“I made the sketches as accurate as I could from my memory,” Gideon said.

The sketch wasn’t as magical as renderings of his stone carvings, but even in these simple pencil strokes, you could see that he was a true artist. The details in the mantelpiece from above captured the charm of the real thing.

“And second?” Sanjay asked.

Tempest ran her index finger over the lines of the sketch. “Assuming there’s not a secret passageway in the house for a random serial killer to come and go, we face the truth that one of the people who was there last night is our killer.”

“What about Enid?” said Gideon. “She was there the first night.”

“I don’t think it was Enid,” Tempest said, “but something is going on with her. She—”

“There’s something wrong here.” Sanjay took Gideon’s notebook from Tempest’s hands. “That’s not where my trunk was.”

“Yes, it was.” Tempest thought back to the setup of Gray House. “I know how much you hate being wrong, but you’re wrong here.”

Sanjay gave her a withering gaze. “I was performing. I had to know exactly where that trunk was. I’m not wrong.”

“Hang on.” She snatched the notebook back from him. “It’s not just the trunk that’s in a different spot. The love seat and futon are swapped.”

“Wait, what?” Gideon shook his head. “I’m sure I didn’t mess that up.”

“You two were at the rehearsal on different nights ,” Tempest said. “Sanjay was there two nights ago, and Gideon was there last night. Between the two nights, the furniture was moved .”

There was no mistaking it. Between the time Mrs. Hudson had been spying on them and gotten a security camera set up, the furniture had been rearranged.

“We need to go,” Tempest said.

“Where?” Gideon asked.

“We’re going to re-create a murder scene—and the solution.”