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“Six rooms. Office. Little lounge at the end of the hall. And a john off the office.”
“No public restroom?”
“Nope.”
“Got it.”
“Third floor is a bunch of junk. Big mess. Some old office furniture. Broken instruments.”
So, not off-limits, but nothing of necessity up there. Good to know. I’m about to ask Wamba how he knows someone isn’t downstairs robbing him blind when I hear a muted bell, like the elementary schools use now.
“Customers,” he says with a toothy grin. “Let’s go see what we can do.”
