“She’s safe now, what is this place?” He looked around trying to identify the structure from its back. “I think we should go inside and investigate. I don’t think our friend here will wake up anytime soon,” he kicked the heel of the teamster to prove his point. After a second thought, bent and cuffed him to the wheel spoke, “You followed this clue, let’s see where it leads. Missy might be right inside, and I’m trying to catch a killer.”
Helena hesitated, she hated leaving a helpless woman alone.
“Look if you don’t want to, I understand. Stay here and guard the woman. I will tell Missy you send your regards,” he gave her a snarky smile.
Helena contemplated the unconscious woman still tied up in the wagon, then the unconscious man lying on the ground, then the wide door into the dark interior of the space beckoning her to enter. What if Doyle was right and Missy was in that building? She should investigate the building first. What was the worst that could happen?
“All right untie her first, but at the first sign of trouble, we run for help. We need to check if this place has a basement that’s where Missy would be.”
Doyle pulled a Bowie knife from under the back of his coat, smoothly slicing through the unconscious woman’s bonds, finished he returned the blade to its scabbard. Then patted his ever-present firearm, one of the Wizard’s new gas-powered automatic pistols. “I think we will be fine.”
Heading for the stairs leading to the loading dock Helena thought: Doyle must’ve been the sight running down the street with his tattered uniform disguise on. I would’ve loved seeing that. She shook her head, “I should hit you harder, teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
“I’m a Copper my job is to put my nose in other people’s business. Besides, you got in a lucky sucker punch.”
The dark doorway led into an even more mysterious and spacious room. Helena had never seen such a place, it was cavernous, she couldn’t spot the far wall. On either side of the door, hung a series of ropes tied to belaying pins, with sandbags dangling on the lines.
“Where are we?” Helena asked.
“If I had to guess, I would say we were in one of the theaters near Chinatown. We headed that direction when we pulled into this alley. However, I’m not familiar with this one. It doesn’t seem to be in operation.”
The farther they stepped into the dark, the more the light faded, Helena could perceive shapes in the murky gloom ahead and to either side. “What are those things? Helena asked gripping her walking stick handle firmly and pointing at the darker shapes.
“I would assume set pieces of some sort. Maybe that can be wheeled on and off the stage, haven’t you ever seen a play,” Doyle studied the floor for a moment before continuing, “We need to go that way,” pointing towards the right.
“Now how can you possibly know that?” Helena said and thought: You scoundrel!
“Can’t you see the footprints in the dust? I’ve been following footprints, while you’ve been chasing shadows.”
Helena tightened her grip again on the walking stick handle, but this time it wasn’t out of fear.
“Look over there, it looks like a staircase,” Doyle pointed deeper into the darkness, Helena couldn’t see a thing. She wished she had the Wizard’s goggles with her.
“Do you have the eyes of the cat? I can’t see a thing,” she tried to use her walking stick as a cane to locate obstacles.
Doyle stopped suddenly prompting Helena to run into his back.
“Will you be careful you blasted...” unsure of what to say next Helena took a breath before continuing on her exhale, “Man.”
“Here, take my hand, I will be your eyes,” Doyle reached back with his right hand taking her left.
Helena valiantly fought the urge to giggle like a little girl when he grabbed her hand. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the blackness at her front.
“Careful, we’re at the head of the stairs,” Doyle guided her.
“I don’t think anybody is here, I don’t think anyone’s been here for a long time.”
“I’m not too sure, I see a glow coming from around the door at the bottom of the stairs.”
“If you say so,” Helena started to hear strange echoes reverberating through the stairwell, and from the stage area above her.
“They say most theaters are haunted,” Doyle smiled in the darkness.
“You’re not scaring me, let’s just find the bottom of the stairs,” Doyle stopped, pausing, and putting his ear to the door.
“Do you hear anything?”
“Yes, your constant yammering, now shush.”
If she were strong enough, she would have crushed his fingers for his rudeness.
Helena could hear a series of clicks as the door began to open below her, a sliver of warm oil lamp-light flooded the stairwell, so she could inspect her location, a rather dull wooden stairwell. She watched in silence as Doyle peeked through the crack.
Doyle pushed the door open farther allowing her to inspect inside the space. The door led to an average enough looking hallway, wall sconces on either side glowed orange from the gaslight.
“Appears someone is here after all,” Doyle smirked to himself.
“Detective Longstreet, are you married, engaged, or otherwise attached?” Helena asked in an innocent a voice as possible.
“Not at the moment,” Doyle answered a look of fear flashed on his face.
“I can understand why,” Helena smiled at her own cleverness.
As they whispered bantering back and forth, they walked down the hallway covered with peeling paint, holding doors that lead off left and right every five paces or so. Inside the open doors, the rooms sat dark, the smell of mold and mildew wafting out from rotting clothing. However, Helena could tell that they were once dressing rooms. Racks of decaying costumes still lined the walls just inside the entrances, and she scrutinized discolored mirrors casting her reflection as she walked by.
“Don’t you think we should check these rooms for
