The lobby and waiting room were in a small hall-like area with a desk separating the rest of the building from the public.
“Can I help you, ladies?” a man asked from the desk, a hint of a sneer in his voice.
Bert instantly recognized him as the officer from outside the building earlier. Clearly, he was no longer on duty at the scene and had been moved to a desk position in the station. She wondered if this had happened as a result of him overstepping his bounds.
“We’re just here to talk with Detective Mannor,” Bert mentioned.
“He’s not here. I’m sorry. You’ll have to come back later,” he said with pride as if he’d just ruined their day. No such luck on his part.
“I’m right here, Flannigan,” Harry growled stepping up behind him.
“Oh. Yes, sir,” he said somewhat unhappily.
“Follow me, ladies,” Harry motioned for them to follow.
Going through the glass door into the offices, he closed it behind them. “You’ll have to excuse Officer Flannigan. He gets a bit power happy at times.”
“So, we noticed,” Shiv complained, tired of dealing with overbearing men.
“Well, he’s one of the chief’s sons, so we’re stuck with him on the force for the moment.”
“Oh,” Bert mused, “that explains things a bit more.”
Harry smiled at them. “I just have a few questions for you, Shiv, about what happened this morning.”
“I understand,” she agreed, ready to get this over with.
Harry was being much nicer than he would be under normal circumstances. Bert remembered dealing with him before they’d begun dating. He’d been a gruff, rude, and unrelenting man whose only desire was to catch a criminal and put them behind bars.
He was likely only being as kind as he was because it was his girlfriend and his girlfriend’s employee.
He held out an arm, directing her toward one of the interrogation rooms.
“Should I stick around?” Bert inquired, wondering if she’d be needed to give Shiv a ride home.
Harry hesitated, his eyes darting from one woman to the other. “Probably not. This might take a little while, unfortunately. One of my men can give her a ride afterward if need be.”
“I see,” Bert conceded, not wanting to step on his toes.
He turned to go again, but she stopped him. “Harry, hold on just a sec.”
“What is it? I’m a bit busy,” he said, a hint of that familiar gruff nature coming through.
“Uhm, about the escape room. I stopped giving out tickets because I wasn’t sure what is happening with that. Do you think the escape room will still run?”
Harry sighed, pinching his nose. “I’m not sure yet.”
“I see.”
“I have one of my men at the crime scene working with the young man in charge.”
“Wait, Dale?” Shiv interjected.
“That’s right. I spent most of the morning questioning him about the death. Now, I’m getting your story as well.”
“You say he’s there now?”
“Yes. He wants to move the escape room to another location on campus. We’ve gone over the room. I told my men it would be okay if every single element that leaves the room was re-checked again before being released. If anything has any sort of evidence at all, it has to be held.”
“Which is why you don’t know if the room will be opening,” Bert said, understanding. If a crucial piece to the escape room puzzle got confiscated, it would shut the whole operation down.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, there is a lot more to do before the day is out.”
They disappeared into the interrogation room.
Bert, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, marched back out to the street. She needed to get back to the campus and catch this Dale fellow.
Chapter Seven
Bert took careful consideration to park in the visitor’s section of the lot when she got to the campus. She had no desire to see or encounter that overzealous campus security monitor again.
Stepping out of the driver’s door, a quick wind zipped around, cutting through her heavy overcoat and right to her bones. She shivered against the chill of the season. If the weather continued on the same path, it would be one heck of a winter.
She quickly ran up to the quad where only one police cruiser remained. The student area seemed completely cordoned off still, so she ducked into the building next door instead. Brushing off the snow, she looked up and spotted a plaque on the brick wall, declaring this as the theater and performance center.
The distant sound of students either singing or practicing on their instruments flowed toward her. Perhaps this was a lucky break.
She considered it, since the escape room was being supported somewhat by the theater department, that perhaps she’d find Dale here.
While she hadn’t said anything in front of Shiv so as not to upset her, she got a distinct feeling that Harry suspected the young man. In cases of murder, it was often the boyfriend or significant other who was behind the crime—and considering Dale hadn’t been around at all when Shiv arrived on the scene, things were looking suspicious for the young man. Harry, by not bringing him in and by also questioning Shiv, might very well have been trying to set the boy at ease, get him to slip up and make a mistake to reveal himself.
On the other hand, maybe Harry really did suspect Shiv.
Could it be possible?
She shook her head, hoping it wasn’t true and continued down the hallway. The building had an aura of creativity all throughout it. Every single section of brick wall was either adorned with framed pictures of concerts, plays, or performances. There were also posters advertising upcoming theater events including improv groups and a musical.
Bert wondered why she wasn’t coming down to the campus more often to see these. After all, she loved a good show and college prices would be cheaper than going to the local professional performing arts center.
Turning the corner at the end of the hall, she nearly ran into a short female student coming out of one of the practice rooms with a large tuba case in hand. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry,” Bert said.
“No problem. I guess I got in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Bert smiled. “You play,” she asked, pointing at the tuba case.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m getting my associates in music. I hope to play in the Culver’s Hood Symphony.” The sweet-faced girl was practically gushing.
“That’s a very honorable goal.”
“Thanks.”
“Before you go. Do you think you could help me find someone?” she asked. It might be a long shot, but maybe this girl knew Dale.
“Sure thing.”
“Do you know a young man named Dale? He was supposed to be running an escape room?”
The girl’s face flushed red. “D-Dale? Yeah, I know him. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just looking for him.”
“Y-Yeah. I just saw him on the second floor about a half-hour ago when I came in to practice.” She looked down at her feet as if she were ashamed about something but had no intention of revealing what. “I think he’s setting up the escape room again after this morning’s . . . tragedy.”
“I see. Can you tell me which room?”
“Room two-oh-five, I think. On the balcony of The Fish Bowl. But if you're going up to help him out in setting up, don’t bother.”
“Why not?” Bert wondered, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to ask what the girl meant by The Fish Bowl but was caught off guard by the second comment.
“He won’t want any help. He practically snapped at me to get lost.”
“Oh? Why do you think he’d do something like that?” Any man who would yell at such a sweet girl, even if he was annoyed, didn’t sound like a very kind or compassionate person. Bert hadn’t even met the guy yet and she already disliked him.
Bert didn’t think it was possible, but the young woman’s face flushed even brighter.
“I-I have no idea.” She was practically clutching the tuba case against her chest, her small frame nearly disappearing behind it. “I have to go. Bye,” she squeaked, rushing down the hall, tuba in her arms and charging forward like a steamroller.
If she didn’t watch where she was going, she might just barrel down another student.
“What was that about?” Bert questioned quietly to herself. She was determined to get to the bottom of things and marched down the hall toward the stairwell. Ascending the steps, she was able to look out over the main atrium of the building. The room had an oval shape with all three floors of the building looking out over balconies. A large chandler of varied glass shards hanging from a wire and lighted from behind acted as a centerpiece. She guessed that this was what the girl meant when she’d said The Fish Bowl.
It only took a second, glancing across the opening, to see a young man maneuvering large flat pieces of wood, painted to look like a library, outside a room. It had to be Dale.
Bert walked around the curve of the balcony until she reached him. “Dale?” she asked.
The young man turned with a quizzical glint in his eye. He had long brown hair down to his shoulders which was brushed behind his ears and a scruffy beard that gave him an overall handsome lumberjack appearance. The red and green flannel shirt didn’t help.
“Can I . . . help you?” he questioned, still trying to figure out who she was or how he could place her.
Bert immediately noticed the accent. Thick and smooth. It added to his overall suave persona. She couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed Australian. She was tempted to ask him about it but refrained. She was sure he got tired of everyone asking him where he was from.
Bert could never live in Australia herself. Too many huge creepy crawlies and big dangerous animals. Of course, that was only based on the wildlife documentary she’d watched and not truly representative of real life in Australia. Still, she could hardly deal with the tiny mosquitos and bugs in Nebraska, let alone anything bigger.
She held out a hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Bertha Hannah, but you can call me Bert.”
The man squinted, taking her hand and shaking it. “Bert Hannah? Why does that sound familiar?”
“You’re working on this escape room with one of my employees, Shiv.”
The man’s eyes lightened up with realization. “Ah, yes. The one who is handing out tickets as part of a deal at your shop.”
“Exactly.”
“Our whole team,” he paused, probably thinking of how one of the team members was now gone, “is grateful to you. I’m sure the escape room will be a hit, thanks to you.”
“So, the escape room is still planned to open?” she wondered.
Dale licked his lips. “That’s the plan, at least. Those cops sure made it hard.”
Bert refrained from stating just how easy they’d made it. If he’d wanted to, Harry could have had the room officially sealed with everything in it, thus rendering the escape room null and void. As it was, Harry had let it slide it seemed.
Bert had a feeling that maybe her boyfriend was up to something in this decision.
“I’m sure it’s been very hard, especially for you.”
“Huh? How so?” he asked, opening the door to the room and propping it in place so he could easily carry the latest batch of items inside.
“Well, wasn’t the girl who passed your girlfriend?”
The young man paused, leaning against the door. His throat pulsed, and his cheeks took on a slightly green quality. It looked like he was attempting to hold back tears. “I’m pretty sure we were on the verge of a break-up anyway,” admitted, his voice choked.
He quickly cleared his throat, pushing away any sense of grief or emotion and grabbed one of the wooden flats, shuffling into the room with it.
“Oh, but that doesn’t make it any easier that she died, does it?” she asked, sure it was still a difficult situation. Based on the young man’s reactions alone, he seemed very torn up about the whole thing.
He set the flat down inside the room, putting two balled up fists on his hips. “No, it doesn’t,” he sighed.
“I’m sorry to bring up such a difficult topic.”
He put up a hand, waving at her. “No, no. You’re totally fine.”
“Can I help you any?” she offered, motioning to some of the smaller items—plastic fake foods and such.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, much to Bert’s surprise. The young woman downstairs had claimed he’d snapped at her, told her he didn’t want her help. Was that true? Had she over exaggerated? Or was Dale treating Bert differently?
She picked up the plastic turkey on a plate. “So, what did happen this morning?”
He shrugged as he got another wooden flat and moved it. “I still have no idea. The police asked me a bunch of questions but didn’t tell me anything.”
“Part of the job, I suppose,” she said, always willing to defend the men in blue from their community.
“Yes, I agree with you there. Doesn’t make it any less difficult.”
“I understand.”
He set the flat down and turned, leaning against it. “But I just don’t understand. Ronnie was testing the room this morning. Nothing should have gone wrong.”
Bert set down the fake turkey, noticing just how crowded the room was with stuff. Lots of little decorations, props, and probable clues for the escape room.
“Where were you?”
“Well, because the room takes a half-hour, and I added fifteen minutes because it was just her doing the test, I went off to talk to my advisor. I figured, get something done while she’s in there.”
“You were with your school advisor?”
“All morning up until the cops came and got me.”
“I see, but if you didn’t hang around, how would you know when Ronnie managed to get out of the room?”
“My app.”
“Huh?”
“Ronnie went inside the room. I closed the door and started the app.”
“The app?” Bert wondered.
He dug into his pocket. “Yeah. The room runs off an app I made for my phone.” He turned on the screen and showed her. “You see. I have a sensor I attached to the doorframe that has a wireless connection to my app and to a countdown clock in the room for the guests to see.” He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up a traditional analog clock that was meant to hang on a wall. It reminded Bert of a smaller version of a scoreboard at a sporting event, only smaller. The clock had a wire connected to a tiny little flat device.
Bert stared in wonderment at the contraption. The capabilities of technology never ceased to amaze her. “What does it do, exactly?”
“As soon as the door closed on the room, I push the start button on the app.” He demonstrated, hitting the big red start button in the middle of the screen. The clock lit up, red numbers glowing, beginning at thirty and counting down automatically. The phone screen displayed the same countdown in exact unison.
“Amazing.”
“My phone has a timer on it. When the time runs out my phone buzzes, indicating the players have lost.”
There was a sudden whirring noise and Bert turned to see a tiny speaker.
“Sorry about that. The thing is on the fritz. It’s supposed to make sound effects for the room. I put it in the vent to make it echo even louder.” He walked over and shut it off.
“I see. Going back to the timer, if the players manage to open the door and get out before the time runs out what happens?” she inquired.
He pointed at the sensor on the wire. “This will detect that the door has opened. Both timers stop and the players win.”
“Holy smoke. So, you know exactly when the door opens?”
He nodded. “No matter where I am.”
Bert’s jaw was hanging open. “So, when Ronnie was in the room, the door never opened.”
“It did when Shiv opened it. I got a text from her saying she was here on campus. So, when the
phone buzzed, I didn’t bother going to see about Ronnie since I knew Shiv was there.”
“And it never buzzed in between that time?”
He shook his head. “No. As far as I can tell that door never opened the entire time Ronnie was inside.”
Chapter Eight
Killer Acorn Pie Page 5