The Waiting Room
~ Chapter One Hundred-Four
Chocolate Evidence
“I
don’t give a damn what you think,” Sands' heated words came. “The
kid was in here. I talked to him…her….hell, it… but the rug rat
wouldn’t talk to me. The thing of it is, how did it get in and out
of the kitchen. Last place I can figure the crumb snatcher was near
the Hannah Banana cabinet.”
Sands heard the cabinet being
opened.
“I’m afraid, Agent Sands, there’s nothing in here
but bananas and a few other items.” James Barrie described. “There
isn’t a child in here.”
Sands rolled his head. “No s--t
Sherlock. I knew that much. There’s got to be a secret passage and
since I’m a bit incapacitated, I needed a pair of eyes to take a
look see.”
Sparrow, Mort, Grosini, and Wilmot stood off to
the side, watching as Barrie inspected the cabinet. The Scotsman
turned towards Lord Rochester.
“May, I?” he asked, waving
towards the man’s walking cane.
Hesitantly Wilmot
relinquished the cane. Balancing the fine crafted walking stick in
his hand, Barrie gave a slight murmur of approval at the quality of
the cane then continued on with business. He poked at the back of the
cabinet, listening for hollow sounds.
“Listen, mates,”
Sparrow interrupted Barrie’s investigation. “If I do recall,
there be a hidden door behind the cabinet.” He made a motion with
his hands, indicating they should move the cupboard away from the
wall.
“I wasn’t aware of such a secret,” James said,
looking the cabinet over as if it were for the first time, amazed at
the pirate’s information.
“Yes, well, t’was found
before ye got here. Nasty business it was. That Irishman, what was
his name?”
“Roux?” Barrie answered questioningly at the
mention of his dear friend’s name.
“Yes, Roux, that was
him. Took it upon himself to keep the key on his person that led to
the cellar below. But if I recall there was some mojo magic to get
the door opened without the key.”
“But that’s not how
the kid got in,” Sands said. “It was only the cabinet door I
heard, not the whole f--king cabinet being moved.” He shook his
head. “Besides, how could a kid move that mother by
himself…herself…whatever the hell it was.”
The group
contemplated Sands' observation. It was true. A child could not move
the cupboard alone. It was all it took for one of the full grown men
to move it.
“Point taken, Agent Sands,” Barrie agreed.
“Are you sure then you were not asleep and…”
“No!”
Sands blurted. “I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t drinking, I was
awake and in this room with a kid. And if you don’t believe that
part then where the hell did this come from?”
He pulled out
the empty chocolate bar wrapper.
James relieved Sands of the
wrapper and immediately could smell the sweet fragrance of the candy.
He handed the cane back to Wilmot and opened up the crumpled paper,
smoothing it the best he could.
“It appears to be a wrapper
to a candy bar.” He announced. His eyes darted to Sands who was
giving a disgusted look with his mouth and refraining from repeating
“no s--t, Sherlock.”
“Where did you find this?” Barrie
inquired wishing to avoid Sands verbal abuse.
“In the
cabinet, when I was searching for the rug rat.”
“So you
found this empty wrapper in the cabinet?” Mort asked, snatching it
from Barrie for a closer look. At the same time he twirled a finger
near his temple in the universal sign for crazy.
“Well, it
wasn’t empty when I found it,” Sands confessed.
Though
Sands could not see his facial expression, Barrie looked surprised in
his direction.
“You ate something you couldn’t see?”
James asked the CIA agent.
“It was freaking chocolate. What
else could it have been?” Sands asked the writer.
“In
here, it could have been ExLax…you know…that chocolate laxative.
You never know who’s putting what in the food around here.” Mort
said with venom and glanced in Sparrow’s direction. He was
recalling the Metamucil incident and knew that Sparrow had been
behind it.
Jack leaned back, as if insulted, then twisted
around to look behind him to see who else the New York writer may
have been referring to, but turned back when he realized Mort was
accusing him.
As if to add injury to insult, Jack brought his
hands together and bowed.
Mort felt the heat of anger rise,
turning his face red, crumpled the wrapper and threw it in Jack’s
direction before storming out of the kitchen.
Jack caught the
wrapper before it hit the floor, watching as Mort huffed off into the
other room.
He brought the wrapper up to his face and gave a
sniff, taking in the heady scent of the chocolate.
“Now
there’s a man in need of Anger Management Therapy,” he said as he
licked the empty wrapper.