Hidden Talents

the photographer would know as well as he that there was no proof to link him to the crime.
    “It doesn't look like Gallagher Firebrace has been wildly successful in his chosen field,” Serenity remarked.
    “At least he seems to be making a living at it, which is more than Asterley did.” Caleb winced as a horn blared behind him. The familiar sounds of hissing air brakes and roaring engines annoyed him today for some reason. He had only been away from the city for a short while, but apparently he had already grown accustomed to the tranquil atmosphere of Witt's End.
    “The place looks closed,” Serenity said. “Maybe we should have called first.”
    “I didn't want to give Firebrace a chance to work on his answers before I asked my questions.” Caleb studied the dust-shrouded windows. There was no sign of life behind the glass, but there was no Closed sign hanging in the door window, either.
    He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and twisted. The door opened with a squeak, revealing the empty front portion of the shop.
    A scattering of faded examples of badge photos and identification pictures adorned the walls. There were two metal folding chairs and an ashtray filled with cold cigarette butts in the waiting area. The pattern on the linoleum was obscured by years of wear. A small notice on the glass countertop read: Will Return in Five Minutes .
    “Anybody here?” Caleb called.
    There was no response.
    “Maybe he's in the back,” Serenity suggested. “He might be working in his darkroom or taking photographs of a client.”
    “More likely he saw us coming and decided to keep out of sight.”
    Caleb went around behind the counter. He pushed open the swinging door that separated the front portion of the shop from the studio.
    He went through the doorway and came to an abrupt halt when he saw what was waiting for him.
    He was standing in a black-and-white wonderland filled with giant images of Crystal Brooke's vivid face.
    The enlarged photos of his mother were everywhere in the studio. Her mischievous, laughing eyes looked down on him from the ceiling and confronted him from all four walls of the room. Her sultry lips, parted in a timeless, provocative smile, filled vast stretches of space. Her platinum hair spilled across the floor in waves beneath his feet.
    The camera had caught a variety of luminously lit expressions from seductive to serene to humorous. They were all brilliant portraits, not of a particular person, but of an archetypal woman-goddess, and they were all focused entirely on Crystal's face. None of them showed her in the nude.
    Caleb studied them intently. He had seen work this fine somewhere else, he realized. And recently.
    Serenity came through the door behind Caleb. She stopped in amazement. “What in the world?”
    “It's a little strange, isn't it?” Caleb tore his eyes away from the myriad images of Crystal Brooke and examined the rest of the room. There was no trace of color anywhere in the studio. Everything, from the black metal tripods, cameras, and lighting equipment to the sheets of white gauze used as backdrop material was either black or white.
    “It's like walking straight into an old photograph,” Serenity whispered. “Caleb, I don't like this.”
    He glanced back at her over his shoulder. Serenity was standing nervously amid a jungle of lights mounted on tall, spindly tripods. She had insisted on wearing one of her town-and-country outfits today, a beige and tan pantsuit that did nothing for her. But, as always, her own, naturally vibrant features more than compensated for the drab clothing.
    Her hair was a radiant cloud of fire against the eerie black-and-white room. Her peacock eyes had never looked more intensely green. They were also very wide as she met Caleb's gaze.
    “Wait outside if it makes you uneasy,” Caleb said. “I want to look around.”
    “I think we should both get out of here. Right now. Please, Caleb.”
    “Just give me a minute.” Caleb saw a row of black cabinets at the rear of the studio. Thinking of the interesting information he had discovered in Asterley's files, he started forward.
    “Caleb, wait. There's something very wrong about all this,” Serenity said anxiously. “I really think we should leave.”
    “Too late, I'm afraid, Miss Makepeace.” Gallagher Firebrace spoke from the doorway behind her. “Much too late. But then, maybe it always was.”
    “Oh, my God,” Serenity whispered.
    Caleb turned. Firebrace smiled