Page 35 of Killer on the First Page
They yelled back and forth as Miranda watched, pondering the publicist’s warning about the manuscript only moments before:You wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands!
Finally, the commotion on the other side ended. The handle on the door began to turn and then—stopped. This was followed by athwackand a gurgled voice. And then, silence.
Edgar flung himself at the door harder now.
Ned Buckley poked his head around the corner, asking, “What’s up? Some sort of hullabaloo?”
Happy Rock’s Chief of Police was not a fan of hullabaloos—or brouhahas, for that matter. And certainly not kerfuffles. And that’s what this was fast becoming: a veritable brouhaha of a hullabaloo of a kerfuffle.
“Quick! Fire a bullet through the lock!” said Andrew.
“I’m not firing my gun inside a building with somebody on the other side of a door,” said Ned. “What exactly is going on?”
Edgar, winded from flinging himself against the door to the reading room, gasped, “It’s Kane Hamady. He’s locked himself inside. I could hear books flying about. Those are first editions in there!”
“Andrew’s right,” said Miranda. “Ned, you should shoot out the lock. OnPastor Fran Investigates, police officers would often fire a round into a—”
“This isn’t a TV show, Miranda, and this certainly isn’t a gun-firing situation. Did you ask him to unlock the door?”
“Of course!” shouted Miranda and Edgar in unison.
“Did you ask himpolitely?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, so he’s in there throwing some books around. If they’re damaged, you can charge him with vandalism. If not, no harm, no foul. You’ll just have to wait till he unlocks the door and comes out.”
“That’s just it,” said Edgar. “He started to. We could see the knob begin to turn, then there was a pause... followed by athwackand an almightyawk!”
This instantly raised Ned’s radar. “AthwackAND anawk? In that order?”
Tanvir Singh had now appeared. “What is going on? Is this a kerfuffle?”
“We have someone trapped inside a locked room,” said Ned. “Perhaps in distress.”
Tanvir studied the brass plate below the handle. “That is a brasstumbler system. You do not see those in newer homes. It is a classic keyhole. You can peek through them just like in the movies.”
Miranda was on this instantly, her eye scrunched up to the opening. How many keyholes had she peered through during her time as Pastor Fran?
“I can’t see anything,” she said. “Something’s blocking it.”
“Most likely the key,” said Tanvir. “In these antique arrangements, the key can be used on either side of the door, can be used to lock it from the inside or outside. If it is locked from inside, there is not much one can do. Have you tried asking the person inside toturnthe key?”
Edgar, exasperated, said, “Yes, I asked him to open the door.”
“But did you say ‘turn the key’?”
Edgar, trying not to snap at his friend, said, “That was implicit in the request. And now he’s not answering. Something’s happened to him.”
“Do you have a drill handy?” Tanvir asked.
“I do. Cordless. Under the sink.”
More and more people had gathered around the door to the reading room, crowding the corridor and offering such helpful comments as “What’s going on?” and “Is there a problem?” and “Have you tried the handle?”
“His voice,” said Miranda. “It changed.”
“Sure,” said Ned. “Anawk.”
