My head sprung up like it had a Tigger tail attached to it. Tate stood three feet away, a glass of ice water in each hand.
I waved my hand around in the air. “Oh, you know.” Great explanation, right? Not like I had a better one.
“Ooookaaay.” Tate drew the word out into four syllables before handing me the water.
I took a sip and placed the glass onto the table I’d previously been hammering with my forehead. “Well, I should probably go.” And then apartment hunt. A change in address was definitely needed now.
“Wait.” He put a hand to my knee to stop me. “I need to know what books you’re reading. You know, so I can plan our next literary adventure.”
Bless Tate. The only one who could watch me make an idiot of myself and go on like nothing happened. Even my mother would have started looking up numbers for a psychiatrist.
Honestly, I hadn’t started another book yet, but the next in my ever-growing to-be-read pile was the second book in a detective series. He grinned when I told him.
“Detectives, huh?”
I took another sip of water. “Here, I’ll even help you out. I propose we stay in and watchThe Great Mouse Detective. You can be Basil and I’ll be Dawson, and together we can defeat the evil Ratigan. Sound good?”
He laughed. Right in my face. “Nice try, but you aren’t getting off that easily.”
Six
My neck craned back as I took in the regular-looking strip mall, looking for a clue as to what awaited me. Apparently, part of the bet now was that each little adventure Tate would put me through had to be a surprise.
Landon and Sydney loitered near the entrance of a glass door.
“No Jim and Carla tonight?” Of all the new people Tate had introduced me to, the couple in their midthirties made me the least uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact I knew neither was a setup for me since they were married or if it was just their easy manner. Whatever the reason, I found myself missing their presence.
Tate shook his head. “They couldn’t find another babysitter tonight.”
Landon stepped forward and rubbed his hands together, eyes bright with excitement. “So are we going to do this?”
Tate opened the door. “Detective Emory, your mystery awaits.”
Once I stepped over the threshold, the surprise was a surprise no longer. Metal letters spelling outEscape Room Experiencehung on a wall painted cobalt blue. I’d heard of these, and despite my slight claustrophobia, anticipation tingled my fingertips.
A man wearing a starched suit appeared from down a long hallway. “Good evening and welcome to Mr. Humfree’s home.”
My brows rose, and I looked at Tate, who wore a grin the size of Texas. Considering this place was definitelynota home, I figured this was all part of the mythology we were about to immerse ourselves in.
“Mr. Humfree would have liked to have greeted you himself, but he is indisposed at the moment. However, he has instructed me to show you the study, where he is sure you will not find the stolen amethyst, even if you private investigators believe he is the thief. You have only one hour to search the room, but if you get stuck on any of the clues you may think you find, I will be happy to assist you. All you need to do is collectively shoutclue, and I will provide the aid you seek. Are you ready to begin?”
We all looked at each other, adrenaline of the hunt seeping into my body as we followed the butler down the hallway to a door. He opened it and summoned us inside.
“Remember—you only have one hour. Good luck.” With that he stepped out and shut the door behind him.
I turned in a slow circle, taking everything in. The room looked like you’d imagine a rich man’s study would look. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined one wall, massive tomes stacked side by side like literary soldiers. A large oil painting of a middle-aged woman draped in diamonds—Humfree’s wife perhaps—hung over an ornate fireplace, a leather reading chair cozied up nearby. On the other wall hung abstract artwork of geometric shapes. First a painting of circles, then one of squares, then one of triangles. In front of us, in the middle of the room, housed a solid-wood desk. A picture of a man and woman hugging sat in a gold frame. Pens lined one side of a leather-bound day planner, and a lamp with a green glass shade paralleled the other side.
There was so much to take in, it was overwhelming. Where were we even supposed to start? Everything could potentially be a clue, or it could be a red herring meant to throw us off track and waste our time.
“Where do we start first?” Sydney voiced my thought.
“Let’s just start looking,” Landon instructed as he walked to the bookcase. He began pulling books down at an angle from their spine.
“What are you doing?” I asked Landon as Tate slid behind me to inspect the desk.
Landon looked at me over his shoulder and shrugged. “Sometimes these escape rooms have more than one room. I figured one of the books might lead to a trap door or something.”
“Look at this,” Tate said behind me.
