One look at the disorganized office space behind the counter told me they probably didn’t bother with records of any kind. Hope soared. If they didn’t keep records, would they notice a locker that’d been locked for over twenty years?
My clinical brain started cataloguing all the evidence that suggested this place was a hive of illegal activity.That’s not why you’re here.
“Do you mind if we check out the lockers on the second floor?” I asked, all nice and polite.
“I really shouldn’t let you. People don’t like cops snooping around.”
My brain twitched at his words and the expression accompanying them.
“We’re not cops,” Jack said. “We’re PIs, and it’d really help us out if you’d accept our donation to your establishment in return for a quick peek.”
Jack handed him fifty dollars, which he promptly pocketed. “I guess it’s okay.”
Anticipation buzzed between us as we calmly walked up the steps.
Room Six had benches in the center, two musty, stacked washer/dryer combos and a sink along the back wall, and lockers lining the two side walls. One wall housed long lockers,like the kind we had in high school, with open shelves on top. The other had mid-sized lockers stacked three high.
“Your tail decided to take a walk. When you exit, head south,” AJ warned us.
“Copy that.”
Each row had twelve lockers.
The locker numbers were consecutive, from the bottom left to the top right, rather than by row, so the eighth locker in the third row was marked two dash thirty-two rather than two-six-three-eight.
The Singers were clever people; they wouldn’t have used the locker number.
I pulled the key out of my pocket. “Here goes nothing.”
The key slid in, but when I turned it to the right, it didn’t budge.
I turned it to the left.
Nothing.
Shit.
“It’s been twenty years, wiggle it and try again,” Jack said.
I pulled the key out and reinserted it. I wiggled it a little and tried again.
I turned it to the right. Nada.
Inhaling deeply and praying for the first time in over a decade, I turned the key to the left.
The lock gave with a dull click.
My heart stopped as my mind raced.
We’d done it. We’d found the Singer’s treasure.
Chapter 39
Nina
“Good afternoon,” I greeted the family after the bell above the door stopped chiming. As they approached the counter, I said, “Welcome to Grannie’s, what can I make for you?”
My smile was forced. My voice cracked. My eyes were bloodshot.
