Page 58 of The Billionaire's Royal Crown

“I’m not sure that’s really true,” Maddie said with a wrinkled nose.

“Of course, it is. Come on, then. Let’s–“ Elena stopped, sucking in a sharp breath as she stared ahead of them. “Look! Another door. And it’s propped open.”

“Could it have been open on the night in question?” Caroline asked.

“My thoughts exactly, dear Caroline. Let’s go inside and see if there are any cameras here.”

Elena tugged at the thick metal door before she slipped into the building. Her gaze slid around the hall, rising toward the ceiling. “I’m not seeing any cameras, are you?”

“None,” Caroline answered.

“Nope,” Maddie added as they shuffled a few more steps down the hall.

“So, in theory, someone could have entered through that door. I wonder if it is locked after a certain time.”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from a doorway down the hall. “What are you doing in here?”

Elena tugged her sunglasses down slightly to eye the man, wearing a blue set of overalls with the name Lou in an oval badge sewn onto them. “We are investigating, Lou.”

The man’s features crinkled with confusion. “Investigating? You cops?”

“No, private investigators,” Elena answered, lifting her chin.

“Private, huh? You three dames expect me to believe you’re private investigators?”

“We are,” Elena said with a curt nod.

He raised his eyebrows. “Show me your license.”

Elena’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. “License? I left it at home.”

“Sure you did.” His voice turned annoyed. “Look, if you gals are here looking for some dirt on what happened in this building, you’re not going to get it. Now, get out of here or I’ll call security.”

“Just a moment,” Elena said as the man poked a finger at the door they’d come in, “I have a few important questions I’d like answered.”

“And I’d like to finish my lunch in peace.”

She glanced around him at the half-eaten sandwich on the card table in the dingy room. “Well, what if we allow you to finish your lunch while we talk.”

“Whatever,” the man said as he shuffled back to the folding chair and collapsed onto it. With a resigned frown, he waved for her to continue.

“This door–is it normally propped open?” Elena gestured toward the metal door.

Lou paused, his sandwich mid-air. “Of course not. But today’s warm, I needed some air while I eat.”

“So, in general, when you are not eating, it is locked.”

“Of course.” He slid a thumb toward a thick stack of paper tacked to a bulletin board. “Manual says the employee entrance should be locked at all times.”

“Except it isn’t, is it?” Elena asked, her hands falling to her hips. “Now, for example.”

“Sue me, lady. I needed some air.”

“I am not accusing you of anything, merely asking a question. Could someone up to nefarious purposes have entered through that door on the night of the murder?”

“No,” the man answered with a shake of his head.

“Are you one hundred percent certain?” Elena asked.

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