On the other side of the door, Elvin was engulfed by darkness, thick and heavy as a blanket. He waited for his eyes to adjust, then took a few tentative steps forward, hands stretched out in front of him like a zombie. He hadn’t gotten very far when, whack! His knee slammed into a sharp corner of a tall desk.
“Ow!” He yelped and dropped to the floor, hugging his knee to his chest. Suddenly, a door in the corridor beyond the desk flew open and Elvin heard a male voice.
“Just a second,” the man said, his voice whiny and wheezy, as though just talking was a huge effort. Elvin held his breath and stayed on the floor, praying that the man would go back into his office. He did. “Yeah, I thought I heard something. Can’t be too careful around here,” he said as the door closed.
Elvin exhaled, then slowly stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk to investigate. Must be a receptionist’s station, he surmised as he ran his fingers over the office phone and computer on top of the desk. He also noticed a small stack of papers, and three picture frames in one corner. He picked up one of the frames, and as he tried to make out the smiling faces in the photograph, a soft whirring sound rustled the air behind him. He spun around to see the green eye of a printer, blinking as the machine spit out a piece of paper. Not a second later, a door opened and he heard the voice of the man again.
“No, I don’t have it yet. Just gimme a minute, would you? I’m going to get it from the printer now,” the man said. “If Sneed has her way, that painting will be hanging in the museum in no time.”
Painting? Sneed? Without thinking, Elvin grabbed the document from the printer, stuffed it in his pocket, and ducked under the desk as the man thundered down the hall. He caught a glimpse of the man’s squat shadow with its rounded belly and domed head.
“I don’t believe this. It didn’t print.” The man gave the table a kick. “You’d think this museum could afford a decent printer,” he wheezed as he waddled back to his office. Elvin scrambled out from under the desk and sprinted back to the gallery to find Alex and Jin.
Five minutes later, Elvin returned to the dark hallway with the two girls.
“Where are we?” Jin whispered.
“I think these are the staff offices. I didn’t have a chance to look for Verta Mae’s office because there’s someone here.” Elvin pointed down the hall. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but he was in a foul mood. We’ll have to be really quiet passing by his door.”
“Wait, so what exactly is our goal here?” Jin whispered, her voice trembling slightly as the reality of where they were and what they were about to do sunk in.
“Our goal,” Alex sighed impatiently. “Is to find Verta Mae, ask her if she wrote the note, and get her to tell us what it means.”
“And if we don’t find her?” Jin pressed.
“We check her office for clues and then we leave, okay? Can we get on with it already?” Without waiting for a response, Alex opened the flashlight app on her phone. A puddle of eerie fluorescent white light appeared at their feet. She aimed the light straight ahead, illuminating a corridor lined with doors. “Let’s go,” she whispered. Jin, though she still had her doubts, followed closely behind.
The three crept down the hallway. Every few feet, Alex pointed her phone light at one of the doors, and they stopped to read the name written there. They tiptoed past the angry man’s office, and kept going until they reached the end of the corridor, where there was a set of tall, wooden double doors. Alex aimed her flashlight so that they could read the brass nameplate affixed to one of the doors. It read DR. VERTA MAE SNEED, CURATOR EMERITUS.
“This is it.” Alex pressed her ear against a gigantic door. “I don’t hear anything.” She reached for one of the knobs and turned. The door was unlocked. Cautiously, they stepped into another dark room. Alex carefully closed the doors and shined her phone light around the space.
But just as they inched forward to take a closer look, the doors flew open behind them and bright light flooded the room.
“What are you doing in my office?” Verta Mae Sneed towered over them. She looked even scarier in person than she did in her portrait, especially now that she was snarling. “You have three seconds to answer me before I have you arrested for trespassing,” she hissed.
Jin and Alex were still too frightened to speak, but when he saw Dr. Sneed heading for the telephone, Elvin stepped forward. “We’re trying to find out who attacked my grandfather,” he blurted out. “We were hoping you could tell us something. I found this the night he was assaulted.” Elvin handed her the note he’d discovered in his grandfather’s coat pocket.
Verta Mae Sneed gasped. “Your grandfather is Jacob Morrow?” Elvin nodded. “I was so sorry to hear about that unfortunate incident. How’s he doing?” she asked, her voice softening.
“He’s in the hospital,” Elvin said. “And he’s unconscious, so we don’t know what happened. If there’s anything you can tell us about him—anything that might help us figure out who may have done this and why—I’d really appreciate it.”
“Please, have a seat.” Verta Mae Sneed positioned herself behind an enormous, dark wooden desk, which seemed to take up most of the room. Jin took out her notebook as she glanced around the office. Books spilled from the tall book cases that lined one side of the room, and almost every inch of available wall space was covered with a piece of art of some sort. On the wall behind her desk hung a large red banner that featured a single green feather.
Interesting, Jin thought, and made a quick sketch of the banner in her notebook as Verta Mae folded her hands on top of the desk and turned to Elvin. “I knew your grandfather many years ago. In fact, we worked together,” she began. “Did he ever mention the Invisible 7?”
“No, but I’ve only known him for three weeks,” Elvin explained.
“Well, he may not have told you about it anyway. Those were difficult years. For all of us.” She shifted in her chair to glance behind her at the feather on the banner before continuing. “But I digress. The Invisible 7 was a group that your grandfather and I, along with several other young artists and writers, started in the 1960s. Back then, Harlem was a very different community than it is now. There was high unemployment. People were poor and hungry and angry about all the injustice, racism, and discrimination in our city, in our nation. Housing and schools were substandard. The Invisible 7 wanted to change all that. Our mission was to use art and poetry to beautify our neighborhood, to show that everyday people, who are often thought of as invisible, could change their lives and their community.” Verta Mae paused, staring past the three of them as though she were watching her memories play out on a screen that only she could see.
“Dr. Sneed? I don’t mean to interrupt your story, but in your note you asked my grandfather to call you. What was it that you needed to talk to him about?” Elvin asked.
Verta Mae Sneed snapped back to the present. “Oh, yes, of course. I wanted to ask him about a painting.”
A painting? The words sparked a thought in Jin’s brain. “Would this have anything to do with the painting that was discovered in the community garden?” she asked.
Verta Mae looked surprised. “I see you’ve done your homework. That painting was created by Henriette Drummond, who was a member of the Invisible 7. Henriette was a very talented artist, a prodigy. Her work had begun to attract the attention of galleries and museums around the world, but she stopped painting abruptly early in her career. She and your grandfather were very close, and he was the last person to see Henriette before she left New York and the art world forever.”
“So what does this have to do with Elvin’s grandfather?” Alex leaned forward in her seat.
“Because her career was so short, Henriette’s paintings are extremely rare and, hence, very valuable. Before she disappeared, Henriette claimed to have destroyed all her work, but we always suspected that she wouldn’t have gone through with it. The discovery of this latest painting raises the possibility that there may be more out th
ere somewhere,” Verta Mae explained. “And if there are more paintings, they would be the jewels in Harlem’s crown, and I want to protect them. They mustn’t fall into the wrong hands. There are people who care more about what Henriette’s paintings would mean for their wallets than what they mean to this community. That is why I wrote to Jacob as soon as I found out about the discovery in the garden. I thought he might know something more about Henriette’s work.”
Elvin frowned. “So whoever attacked my grandfather may think that he knows where the other paintings are, too. That is, if there are any other paintings.”
“It could be,” Verta Mae said hesitantly.
“Why did Henriette stop painting in the first place?” Jin asked.
Verta Mae sighed. “I’ve said too much as it is. You children should stay out of this.” Verta Mae stood and walked toward the door, indicating that the meeting was now over. Alex, Jin, and Elvin took her cue and followed.
“The art world may produce works of beauty, but beneath the surface, there is a teeming cesspool of greed—of people who will stop at nothing to get what they want, including harming others,” Verta Mae said. “Please call me if anything surfaces about the paintings. Otherwise, for your own safety, please leave this matter to the authorities.”
With that, she closed the doors softly behind them, and they were once again in the dark hallway.
“Do you believe that story?” said Alex.
Elvin held up his finger to silence her. “I don’t think we should talk here.”
“This place is creeping me out, anyway,” Alex said. “Let’s get out of here.”
They started down the hall, so focused on reaching the door that led back to the museum gallery, that they didn’t notice a figure lurking in the shadows as they passed. But to be sure, a pair of cold, dark eyes noticed them.
“I know somewhere we can talk,” Alex said once they were outside of the museum, and led the way to a small coffee shop around the corner. They slid into a booth, and a waitress promptly appeared with glasses of water. They ordered three hot chocolates and a plate of fries to share.
“That was crazy awesome!” Alex exclaimed once the waitress had left their table.
“It was crazy creepy.” Elvin lowered his voice to a whisper. “Especially Verta Mae Sneed.”
“Verta Mae Sneed was totally creepy!” Alex concurred.
“Yeah, I couldn’t figure her out,” Jin said. “On the one hand, Dr. Sneed seemed like she was really concerned about Elvin’s grandfather, but she was also really interested in Henriette Drummond’s paintings.”
“She did say that they were valuable, and that she wanted to keep them out of the wrong hands,” Elvin added.
“Or maybe she wants them in her hands,” Alex remarked as the waitress arrived with their drinks and fries. She squeezed a puddle of ketchup onto her plate, dunked a fry, and stuffed it into her mouth. “Personally,” she said, chewing, “I think Verta Mae is after those paintings herself, and all that mumbo jumbo about the dangers and greed of the art world is her way of throwing us off the case.”
“Speaking of that, right before we went into the museum, that preacher guy on the corner started talking about the dangers of greed, and how it was like a ‘monster in our midst,’ I think that’s what he said. And then Verta Mae Sneed said almost the exact same thing about greedy people in the art world. Isn’t that weird? Everything is so tangled up, it’s hard to figure out what is connected to what,” Elvin mused.
Jin, who was bent over her notebook, nodded. “You’re right, that is a strange coincidence,” she said once she’d finished writing. “I just wish we could find out more about Henriette and that painting. Maybe that would help us to figure out why it’s so valuable and why anyone else would want it.”
“But the authorities haven’t released any information about it yet. We don’t even know where it is,” Alex said.
“What about the kid who found the painting? We could talk to him,” Elvin suggested.
“That’s a good idea. Jarvis Monroe shouldn’t be too hard to get ahold of.” Jin whipped out her phone and dashed off a text message to Rose: Need address for Jarvis Monroe, kid who found $$ art in garden.
“That reminds me,” said Elvin. “When we were at the museum I found—”
“I just thought of something else,” Alex interrupted. “Verta Mae asked if your grandfather knew about the paintings. Do you think it’s possible that he did?”
Elvin shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, and then remembered his last conversation with his mother. “My mom told me that my grandfather has always seen himself as some kind of guardian or protector of Harlem. I know it sounds kind of weird, but I think the walks were his way of patrolling the neighborhood.”
“So maybe he knew that there was something that needed protecting in the garden.” Alex downed another fry. “We should check out his apartment. Maybe he even has a stash of paintings hidden there,” she said excitedly.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Elvin said. “I’m locked out. I don’t have a key.”
Alex shrugged. “So we sneak in.”
“Also, the cops may be looking for me.”
“So we make sure they don’t see us.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Alex, especially considering how our field trips have gone so far.” Jin frowned.
Alex leaned halfway across the table. “Do you two want to find out what happened to Elvin’s grandfather or not?” She locked eyes with Elvin, who nodded. “Okay, then we’re going to have to take some risks. Who’s with me?” She balled her hand into a fist and held it out in front of her. Reluctantly, Elvin touched his fist to hers. The two of them looked at Jin.
“Fine, whatever. But if we get caught, you have to deal with Halmoni.” Jin glared at Alex as she added her fist to the circle.
“Good, see you accomplices tomorrow. Just kidding.” Alex laughed and threw a ten-dollar bill on the table. Jin’s phone dinged as they were getting up to leave.
“Rose just sent me Jarvis’s address. It’s still early—wanna go see if we can talk to him?”
“Uh, I can’t.” Alex’s eyes shifted. “I’ve got a thing.”
“What kind of thing?” Jin asked eagerly.
“Just a family thing.”
Jin looked away. She couldn’t help wondering what Alex was hiding.
“I’ll go,” Elvin chimed in.
“I’m really sorry about bailing on you guys,” Alex said as they lingered outside the restaurant. “You two be careful.”
“Jarvis Monroe is seven. I doubt he’s dangerous,” Jin said.
“Just keep an eye on each other,” Alex said. “We don’t know who might be after that painting.” Then she disappeared into the steady flow of people streaming down the sidewalk.
“I guess this is it,” Jin said as she pressed the buzzer for the Monroe apartment. There was no answer. She was about to try again when a group of kids tumbled out the door. “Hey, do any of you know Jarvis Monroe?” she asked.
One little girl, who looked to be about five years old, nodded excitedly. “He’s my cousin. But he’s not home. He’s at the playground,” she said, right before another slightly older child clamped a hand over her mouth.
“You’re not supposed to tell that kind of stuff to strangers,” the kid warned, and tugged the little girl by the hand as they followed the others, moving in a cluster, like a cloud of children drifting down the street.
The playground was just at the end of the block.
“Which one is he?” Elvin asked when they reached the entrance.
Jin scanned the park. She saw a boy, yelling down to his friends from the top of a slide, who resembled the kid she’d seen on the news. “I think that’s him.” She pointed. They started toward him. “Hey, Jarvis!” she called when they were close. Jarvis glanced in their direction and then practically dove down the slide. He started running as soon as he hit the ground. Jin and Elvin chased after him.
“Wait!” Jin yelled. Jarvis hesitated, unsure of whether or not to go back. He slowed down just enough for them to catch up with him near a cylindrical tube that looked like an aboveground tunnel. Jarvis clambered inside. Elvin and Jin positioned themselves at either end.
“Jarvis, we don’t want to hurt you. We saw you on the news, and we just wanted to ask you a couple questions about the painting you found,” Elvin said.
“Did Zig-Zag send you?” Jarvis’s voice echoed through the tube.
“No, who’s Zig-Zag?” Jin asked.
“Big, mean guy. Pushed me when I wouldn’t tell him about the painting,” Jarvis said.
“What did he want to know?” Jin leaned over to peek into the tube.
“He wanted to know where the painting was, but I’m not supposed to tell.”
“We won’t say anything, we promise. Why don’t you come and talk to us out here?” Jin coaxed. Jarvis thought about it for a second, then slowly climbed out of the tube.
Jin stuck out her hand to him to shake. “I’m Jin, and this is Elvin.”
Jarvis just looked at her. “My teacher says I’m famous, but I’m not giving you my autograph.” He grinned.
“That’s okay. We just wanted to know what happened to that painting,” Jin started.
“I told you, it’s a secret!” Jarvis pouted. “I’m not supposed to tell anybody that it’s in the hospital.” Jarvis’s hand flew to his mouth, and his eyes went wide. “Uh-oh.” Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and took off. He was halfway across the playground before Jin could even yell, “Stop!”
Alex stood in front of her bedroom mirror. “I am going to be sick. I am literally going to be sick,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head with disgust. Dressed in full riding attire, complete with a black velvet hat perched on her head like an enormous black jelly bean, a red jacket with shiny gold buttons that squeezed her waist like an accordion, and pouffy jodhpurs that billowed out around her thighs like sails, she looked like she should be introducing the next act in a three-ring circus.
The Harlem Charade Page 6