asking how everybody got Spud out of Holden Hatfield. “Did Mr. Lombardi have any visitors last night?”
“Yup. Four. You want their names?”
Ben marveled at his exuberance. He must’ve told this story at least twice already to the police—probably some reporters as well. Then again, why shouldn’t he be enthusiastic? Spud wasn’t a suspect; no one was even suggesting he had done something wrong. This was probably a rare opportunity for him to shine in a job that normally seemed about as dull as counting cars on the turnpike.
“How can you be sure there were only four visitors?” Ben asked.
Spud pointed his thumb toward his chest. “Because they all have to go through me. I have to let them inside.” He demonstrated the procedure of pushing the button on his control panel to release the front door. “And I have to activate the elevator with a key and push the floor button. I keep a list of everyone who comes in and where they’re going.” He tapped a clipboard on his desk.
Ben stepped closer and read over Spud’s shoulder.
“Like it says right here,” Spud continued. He brought the clipboard up about an inch from his eyes. “Only four people took the elevator to the top floor last night.”
Ben took a giant step away from Spud. The stench of alcohol was so thick on the guard’s breath he might as well have been wearing it as cologne. Perhaps this was the lodge’s unique way of discouraging intruders. “How do you know someone didn’t, say, ride the elevator up to the ninth floor, then walk up to the tenth?”
“ ’Cause it ain’t possible,” Spud answered. “The doors are locked from the outside. We have to maintain access to the stairwell—fire codes, you know. But once you’re in, you’re in for good. You can’t exit the stairwell until you get all the way down to the first floor.”
“How do you know these four people weren’t going to see some other tenant on the top floor?”
“ ’Cause there ain’t no other tenants on the top floor. Mr. Lombardi’s suite takes up the whole floor.”
Good answer, Ben thought.
“That’s why they call it a penthouse, son.”
“Does your list also record the times these four persons left the building?”
“No can do, son. See, there’s only one way into the building, but there’s a couple’a ways out. There’s two back doors that are locked from the inside. You can’t use them to get in, but you can sure use them to get out. Most folks do, since those doors are closer to the parking lot.”
“Ah,” Ben said, spotting an escape hatch. “Then someone could open a back door from the inside and let someone else in.”
“Possibly,” Spud admitted, “but the intruder still couldn’t get nowhere. He couldn’t ride the elevator unless I activated it for him. He couldn’t enter the stairwell without my seein’ him, and even if he could, he couldn’t open the stairwell doors on any of the upper floors.”
“Right. Locked from the outside.”
“Absolutely correct,” Spud said. “You’re a pretty quick study, son.”
“They teach that in law school,” Ben replied. “I don’t suppose you might’ve fallen asleep last night?”
Spud shook his head vigorously. “Not a chance. But what if I did? Unless I open the front door or activate the elevator, nobody gets in.”
So it seemed, Ben had to admit.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. It didn’t happen. Let me tell you, son—I’ve been workin’ this job over three years now, and I ain’t fallen asleep once yet.” He lowered his voice a notch. “Just between you and me, every now and then, when I feel myself gettin’ a mite drowsy, I just whip out Jackie D here and take a good hard swig.” He withdrew a silver flask strapped to his leg and waved it under Ben’s nose. “Just a quick snort, and I’m wide awake again.”
Not exactly the way they described it in driver’s ed class, Ben thought, but whatever works. “Tell me, Spud, did you recognize any of these four
“Yup. Four. You want their names?”
Ben marveled at his exuberance. He must’ve told this story at least twice already to the police—probably some reporters as well. Then again, why shouldn’t he be enthusiastic? Spud wasn’t a suspect; no one was even suggesting he had done something wrong. This was probably a rare opportunity for him to shine in a job that normally seemed about as dull as counting cars on the turnpike.
“How can you be sure there were only four visitors?” Ben asked.
Spud pointed his thumb toward his chest. “Because they all have to go through me. I have to let them inside.” He demonstrated the procedure of pushing the button on his control panel to release the front door. “And I have to activate the elevator with a key and push the floor button. I keep a list of everyone who comes in and where they’re going.” He tapped a clipboard on his desk.
Ben stepped closer and read over Spud’s shoulder.
“Like it says right here,” Spud continued. He brought the clipboard up about an inch from his eyes. “Only four people took the elevator to the top floor last night.”
Ben took a giant step away from Spud. The stench of alcohol was so thick on the guard’s breath he might as well have been wearing it as cologne. Perhaps this was the lodge’s unique way of discouraging intruders. “How do you know someone didn’t, say, ride the elevator up to the ninth floor, then walk up to the tenth?”
“ ’Cause it ain’t possible,” Spud answered. “The doors are locked from the outside. We have to maintain access to the stairwell—fire codes, you know. But once you’re in, you’re in for good. You can’t exit the stairwell until you get all the way down to the first floor.”
“How do you know these four people weren’t going to see some other tenant on the top floor?”
“ ’Cause there ain’t no other tenants on the top floor. Mr. Lombardi’s suite takes up the whole floor.”
Good answer, Ben thought.
“That’s why they call it a penthouse, son.”
“Does your list also record the times these four persons left the building?”
“No can do, son. See, there’s only one way into the building, but there’s a couple’a ways out. There’s two back doors that are locked from the inside. You can’t use them to get in, but you can sure use them to get out. Most folks do, since those doors are closer to the parking lot.”
“Ah,” Ben said, spotting an escape hatch. “Then someone could open a back door from the inside and let someone else in.”
“Possibly,” Spud admitted, “but the intruder still couldn’t get nowhere. He couldn’t ride the elevator unless I activated it for him. He couldn’t enter the stairwell without my seein’ him, and even if he could, he couldn’t open the stairwell doors on any of the upper floors.”
“Right. Locked from the outside.”
“Absolutely correct,” Spud said. “You’re a pretty quick study, son.”
“They teach that in law school,” Ben replied. “I don’t suppose you might’ve fallen asleep last night?”
Spud shook his head vigorously. “Not a chance. But what if I did? Unless I open the front door or activate the elevator, nobody gets in.”
So it seemed, Ben had to admit.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. It didn’t happen. Let me tell you, son—I’ve been workin’ this job over three years now, and I ain’t fallen asleep once yet.” He lowered his voice a notch. “Just between you and me, every now and then, when I feel myself gettin’ a mite drowsy, I just whip out Jackie D here and take a good hard swig.” He withdrew a silver flask strapped to his leg and waved it under Ben’s nose. “Just a quick snort, and I’m wide awake again.”
Not exactly the way they described it in driver’s ed class, Ben thought, but whatever works. “Tell me, Spud, did you recognize any of these four
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