“Is she?” I asked.

Susan nodded. I didn’t think she was going to say anything else, but then she continued, “She thinks she can tell me how to run my museum.”

“Why would she think that?”

Susan looked at me suspiciously, as if I might be attempting to trick her. If I wanted to have a real conversation, I knew I’d have to give her a better reason to talk to me.

“The truth is, I’m a reporter,” I said quickly. “That’s why I was back here. I’m writing a story about the museum. I’m sorry about sneaking around like this, but I would love to talk to you, actually. It could be a great way to get the museum some more publicity.”

Susan raised her eyebrows. She seemed as though she was considering it. Then she said, “More publicity?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I work for a travel and lifestyle magazine. We encourage our readers to visit certain events around the country.”

Susan looked around, as if someone might overhear us in the empty hallway. “If you’re interested in writing about this curse business, I really can’t talk about it. At least, not on the record. The police already suspect I’m wrapped up in it.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I can keep you anonymous.”

“And this article—it won’t be all about the curse, will it? You’ll also encourage people to come see the photographs?”

“Definitely,” I said. “Our readers would be very interested in an exhibit as great as this one.”

This seemed to convince Susan somewhat. She was still frowning and looking at me with her brow creased, but she was also nodding.

“So what was going on with you and that woman?” I asked.

“I shouldn’t even mention this,” Susan said. “But that woman was Beverly DeSantos.”

“Oh,” I said. “Wow, really?” I tried my best to look surprised.

“That’s right,” said Susan. “Just because she donated the photographs, she thinks she can tell me what to do with them.”

“Because of the missing people?” I asked.

For a moment I was worried I had crossed a line and that Susan would stop talking to me. But luckily, she didn’t seem to mind. She said, “Exactly. She thinks she should be able to decide what to do now.”

I knew this next question was risky, but I had to ask. “The police seem to think you might be behind these disappearances, that you’re trying to use the curse to stir up attention for the exhibit. Is there any truth to that?”

“No,” said Susan sharply. “I might have pretended a photograph went missing and tried to blame it on the curse, but I wouldn’t do that with a person.”

“But you still haven’t shut down the exhibit,” I said. “Why not, if one of your employees has really gone missing? Grace Rogers—I read that was her name.”

Susan crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed a little annoyed by the question, like maybe she had been asked this before. “I hardly even knew Grace Rogers, and I don’t believe she’s actually gone missing,” she said. “Grace had only worked here for a few weeks, and she’d practically begged me to hire her. Then she just skipped town, no notice, and right as we were getting more popular. Now I’m running this museum all on my own.”