Death in the Primrose Hotel – Chapter 3 cont’d

The control panel in the elevator had only two buttons. An arrow imprinted on each button; one arrow pointed up and the other arrow pointed down. I pushed the down arrow. The elevator started it creaky, screeching and now jerky descent. The same look of fear came over Tom Forsythe’s face that came over mine when I first rode the elevator down to the speakeasy.
“This elevator’s not on the drawings,” Tom Forsythe said regaining his composure as the elevator carried us down.
“Then again, you’re not really riding in an elevator,” I said. I suspected and Tom Forsythe said that this elevator wasn’t on any drawings and yet here we were descending to the nonexistent, undocumented sub-basement speakeasy in a nonexistent elevator.
The elevator finally screeched to a stop and again the car stopped six inches above the floor just as it had when Vanessa and I first rode down. I opened the door to the speakeasy and we stepped out. “And this isn’t the sub-basement used during prohibition as a speakeasy,” I said. I won’t repeat Tom Forsythe’s reply.
Tom Forsythe stood with his back to the elevator, his hands on his hips like Superman. He took in the speakeasy as he slowly rotated his head one hundred eighty degrees taking in everything there was to see. When he completed his panoramic inspection of the room before him, he said softly, “A goddam speakeasy.”
Tom Forsythe and I walked over to where Vanessa and Madeline stood and I introduced my wife to him. He already knew Madeline and he gently shook her hand showing the courtesy due a lady of her age. I led him across the room to the far side bar and pointed down to the skeleton laying peacefully on the floor. The skeleton laid there in perfect alignment as if the body had been sleeping on its back and the flesh simply turned back into dust.


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