Night 54: Janitor's Closet
[From here.]
L had expected to have to kick the door open himself, so he appreciated that his companion took the initiative this time; he was less pleased, however, that he had to enter the room first, as he had also entered the stairwell. He held up a hand, to indicate a pause in conversation. Standing against the door jamb, peering around the door, he scoured the walls, the floor, and the corners and center of the ceiling with the beam of his light.
Still nothing, but there was another door at the far end of the room, and no way of knowing what might wait behind it. The closet itself was so cluttered that he suspected that rifling through it could be perilous: they would have to be cautious in more than one sense. He moved towards the sink, intending to check that, too.
When they were finished here, and the room where their possessions were ostensibly stored, he wanted to try some of the doors that were reputed to have strong locks. He was skeptical of the idea that no one would have mentioned discovering that the reputation was false, but he couldn't take it on faith. Tonight would be convenient for a test; four doors on this hall alone had been marked red on Edgeworth's map. The ones closer to the open turn in the corridor would be better than the one at the isolated far end.
"No--I was in the greenhouse." He peered into the illuminated basin of the sink; when he was satisfied that it was empty, he looked up at Figaro. "What happened?"
L had expected to have to kick the door open himself, so he appreciated that his companion took the initiative this time; he was less pleased, however, that he had to enter the room first, as he had also entered the stairwell. He held up a hand, to indicate a pause in conversation. Standing against the door jamb, peering around the door, he scoured the walls, the floor, and the corners and center of the ceiling with the beam of his light.
Still nothing, but there was another door at the far end of the room, and no way of knowing what might wait behind it. The closet itself was so cluttered that he suspected that rifling through it could be perilous: they would have to be cautious in more than one sense. He moved towards the sink, intending to check that, too.
When they were finished here, and the room where their possessions were ostensibly stored, he wanted to try some of the doors that were reputed to have strong locks. He was skeptical of the idea that no one would have mentioned discovering that the reputation was false, but he couldn't take it on faith. Tonight would be convenient for a test; four doors on this hall alone had been marked red on Edgeworth's map. The ones closer to the open turn in the corridor would be better than the one at the isolated far end.
"No--I was in the greenhouse." He peered into the illuminated basin of the sink; when he was satisfied that it was empty, he looked up at Figaro. "What happened?"