“This is an active crime scene,” Rob said, stepping forward. “No one leaves. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Amelia moved to join him, leaving Finn alone with Lady Pembroke for a moment. The murmur of protest and heated rebuttal filled the lobby with chaotic energy. Lady Pembroke cast one last haunted look at Finn and then stepped aside to watch the argument unfold from a distance.
Finn rubbed his temples, exhaustion pulling at him.Three murders.If the killer was indeed Terrance Mansfield… who could be next?
A sharper commotion drew his attention to a far corner of the lobby. He spotted James Rutherford gripping Theodore Crawford’s arm, speaking in a low, forceful tone. The manager looked flustered, his balding head glistening with perspirationunder the chandelier. James was practically marching Theodore away from the crowd and into a nearby hallway. Finn thought James looked a similar size to the attacker, but it was hard to gauge because of how dark it had been.
What is he up to?
Finn’s instincts prickled. Rob and Amelia were preoccupied at the doors, fending off the outraged VIPs.I should see what James is up to.
Quietly, he slipped through the scattered club members, weaving past side tables and potted plants until he reached the corridor. He caught a glimpse of James and Theodore vanishing through a door. The plaque on it read:Theodore Crawford – Manager.
Finn set an ear to the door. Muffled voices leaked out, tense and agitated.
“You know the only way we get out of here is by going the 'old way',” James said.
“Impossible,” Theodore answered. “It's not been used for years.”
“I don't know where it is,” James said. “But I know the entrance is somewhere in the library. You better show me! I want out of here and the police are guarding the exits!”
He turned the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
Theodore stood behind his ornate wooden desk, worry etched on his face. James Rutherford, mid-sentence, swung around and stiffened. “Devlin,” he said, a note of irritation in his voice. “What do you want?”
Finn forced a casual shrug, feigning the same accent he used as “Devlin Foster.” “The place is locked down, James. I’m not keen on staying all night. I saw you two slip away—thought maybe you’d have a solution?”
James’s eyes flicked to Finn’s hands, noticing the faint red smears still visible on his cuffs. He let out a small noise of distaste. “You should wash up, Mr. Foster. That’s… unsightly.”
Finn grimaced. “Hard to do with officers swarming every bathroom. Look, I was the one who found Jeremy dead. People say it was Terrance Mansfield, and that more will be next. Isn’t that why you want out?”
James bristled. “We’re not afraid of a ghost story, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Finn angled his head. “If you don’t show me a way out, I’ll have to tell thepoliceyou’re planning something. And I imagine they won’t like that.”
A flicker of anger crossed James’s face. “I could ensure you never set foot in this club again, Devlin. Is that what you want?”
Finn mustered a brief, wry smile. “I’m willing to sacrifice my membership if it means avoiding negative press for my business ventures.”
Theodore—who'd been standing rooted behind the desk—raised his hands plaintively. "Alright, that's enough. If you want to be led out, you should speak with the police." His voice dropped, quavering. "The old way is sealed off for a reason… No one's used it in years and for all I know the damned thing has caved in."
James scowled, turning on Theodore. “We’ll take our chances, and so will a few of the most influential members who need to leave quietly. If you don’t cooperate, I promise I’ll see you removed as manager. I’ll make it my personal mission.”
Theodore’s eyes flickered with panic. He glanced at Finn for a moment and then relented. “Fine. I’ll… show you. But I don’t know the condition it’s in.”
James nodded sharply, then offered a perfunctory smile to Finn. "Meet us in the library in five minutes. If you're late, we'll start ripping out the bookcases to find the way ourselves."Without waiting for a response, he strode to the door, yanked it open, and disappeared into the corridor.
A heavy silence followed. Theodore sank into his chair, letting out a long, shaky breath. He pressed his fingers to his temple. “God, this is all so dangerous…” Then his gaze fell on Finn. “Can't you just end this Devlin Foster ruse and stop him?”
Finn gave a rueful nod, dropping the charade. “Yes, I could. But, Teddy, sometimes you have to hold onto your hand until the right moment to call. I wonder if Terrance Mansfield has been using this 'old way'?”
Theodore laced his fingers, knuckles whitening. “Why not just tell the police about this old exit so they can search it? Surely that’s simpler, safer.”
Finn rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “I suspect that the people who want out are the same ones involved in that 2003 game where Terrance Mansfield lost everything. If Mansfield is alive and seeking revenge, those folks are in the cross hairs I want to see who goes—and more importantly, how they behave. Because one or more of them could be in on all of this, wiping out business and gambling competitors.”
A dull flush stained Theodore's cheeks. "But you're at risk as well. That part of the building is ancient, rarely used. It could collapse for all we know."
“I need to do this,” Finn said. “If there’s a secret route in and out, it might be how the killer has been moving unseen, and perhaps James and his little gang will be implicated.”