“B-118, B-120,” Evie called as they walked. They passed several more, and a men’s room. “B-130!” The dark, pebbled window of B-130’s door still bore the ghostly traces of former lettering that read, simply, STATISTICS. “That’s a good way to keep people out—make it sound like a flat tire of a place.”
Sam jangled the doorknob. “Locked.”
“What now?” Evie asked.
“Wait a minute.” Sam fished in his pocket for the key he’d gotten from his contact. He tried it in the lock but it wouldn’t fit. He groaned.
“We could break the glass,” Evie said.
“Last resort. We don’t want anybody to know we were here.” Sam pressed his face to the glass, cupping the sides of his eyes to block the hallway’s glare. He could just make out a shaft of light coming from up high on the right by the lavatory. “Hold on. I’ve got an idea,” Sam said, heading to the men’s room.
“I do not believe that answering the call of nature qualifies as an ‘idea.’”
“Just hold on to your hat for a second,” he said, disappearing inside. A moment later, the men’s room door opened again. Sam leaned out and crooked a finger at Evie.
Evie folded her arms. “You want me to go in there?”
Sam waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t you just love a cozy spot for two, Baby Vamp?”
“There’s nothing more romantic than a row of urinals, Sam, but what’s your plan?” Evie said, following him inside.
“That.” Sam pointed to a small hinged window near the ceiling. “It leads right into office B-130.” Sam laced his fingers together, palms up. “Come on. Upsy-daisy. I’ll give you a boost.”
Evie’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking.”
“I used to do this in the circus all the time. Piece of cake.”
“Why do I think that piece of cake is going to be Pineapple Evie-Upside-Down Cake?” Evie grumbled.
“Those shoes look dangerous. Better take ’em off first.”
“I love these shoes more than you, Sam.”
“We’ll come back for them.”
“They’re from Bloomie’s. I’m not leaving them.” Evie slipped off her satin Mary Janes and bit down on the leather straps, letting the shoes dangle from her mouth.
“So that’s what it takes to shut you up!” Sam joked.
“Ah will draaahhph dese on your heeaad. Ah schwearrr Ah weeeal,” Evie managed to say as she stepped onto Sam’s finger bridge and he hoisted her up. Evie grabbed hold of the window as her stockinged feet scrabbled for a hold on the slick white-tiled wall. “Saaam!”
“Hold on!” Sam stepped up into a urinal and wedged his shoulder under Evie for extra leverage.
“Naaah eenufff!” she called, slipping.
“Okay. Then I’m apologizing for this in advance,” Sam said. He placed his hands firmly on her backside, boosting her up. He was glad Evie couldn’t see his grin. “Take your time. I’m good.”
“Saaam, Ah’d kick you if Ahh were’n afraaay you drophh me.”
With a grunt, Evie scrambled through the window and landed with an audible thud on the other side.
“Evie! You jake?” Sam called.
“Yes. Fortunately, there’s a desk by the wall. Sam?”
“Yes, Mutton Chop?”
“Remind me to kick you later.”
“Will do,” Sam said. “Just don’t forget to unlock the door.”
Sam ran around front as Evie opened the door, arms spread wide in a welcoming gesture. “How nice of you to stop by. I think you’re going to love what I’ve done with the place.”
It took a few seconds for Sam’s eyes to adjust to the gloom. He wished he’d brought along a flashlight. “The dust is a nice touch.”
“Isn’t it, though? I had a decorator come in. I said, ‘I’d like something a bit Fall of the House of Usher, but less cheery.’ Honestly, where are we, Sam?”
Not much remained of whatever the U.S. Department of Paranormal had once been. Three desks. A few chairs. An oak file cabinet. Bookcase lined with begrimed volumes of large, rather dull-looking books. An American Eagle Fire Insurance calendar hung from a rusted nail on the wall, left open to April 1917. Beside it was a map of the United States dotted with thumbtacks pressed into towns in every state. Each thumbtack had been assigned a different number: 63, 12, 144, 48, 97.
“What am I looking for?” Evie called, opening and closing desk drawers, where she found nothing but dust balls.