The picnic table and benches were still dotted with rain, so George and I sat down on our jackets and began to talk.

“Tell me everything,” said George.

I filled her in on the events of my recent adventure. The staff hallway, the argument between Beverly DeSantos and the museum curator, and what Susan had said to me afterward about Grace Rogers’s disappearance and the subsequent increase in ticket sales.

“Wow,” said George.

“I know,” I said. “I’m not sure what to make of it yet.”

George thought about everything I had told her for a minute. Eventually she said, “I’m pretty suspicious of Beverly DeSantos. Remember what Riley said, about that interview? Beverly didn’t like her grandfather. So maybe she’s trying to sabotage his exhibit now, and the argument you overheard was her trying to get Susan to help.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But then, why would Beverly even donate the photographs in the first place? Susan was also really happy about ticket sales, and she’s already tried to fake this curse once. I don’t think we can count her out as a suspect either.”

Instead of responding, George waved at someone behind me. I turned around to see Riley heading toward us. Riley took long steps as she walked, so her movement was something between walking and skipping. As she made her way in our direction, her camera bumped against her from where it was still hanging around her neck. “Hey, George!” she called over to us. “Hey, Nancy!”

“Hi, Riley,” I said, once she was closer. “How’s it going?”

“Great!” Riley had a large smile on her face, and she looked eager to tell us something. “I have some good news.”

George and I made brief eye contact before George turned back to Riley and asked, “Really? What is it?”

“After our conversation at the diner, I went back to the hotel,” she began. “And I was just about to head out again when I ran into Emily!”

Riley had her arms held out and she looked excited, like she had just told us a very important piece of information. But neither George nor I reacted much to it. I could tell by looking at George that, just like myself, she had no idea who Emily was.

“Emily?” asked George.

Riley nodded a little impatiently and then began to clarify. “Emily is the girlfriend of the second missing person!” she said. “The one who was crying in front of the museum this morning.”

“Oh!” I said. “We wanted to talk to her.”

“I figured,” said Riley. “Anyway, she’s staying at the same hotel we all are, and she said she’d be happy to answer some questions.”

“Riley, that’s incredible!” I said. “When can we see her?”

Riley beamed. “Now, if you want to.”

George and I looked at each other and grinned. “We want to,” I told Riley. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER FIVE The Unreliable Witness

GEORGE, RILEY, AND I MADE our way toward the Elder Root Inn. The clouds were patchy and occasionally rolling over the sun, which made everything warm and then cold and then back again.