Page 126 of Forever Dead
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Connor felt heat rise through his chest. “I don’t work for Morimer.”
“Then leave me alone.”
Connor forced himself not to react. “Show me the service areas.”
The owner stared at him for several seconds before coming around the bar. “Fine. You want to waste my afternoon, let’s waste it.”
He led Connor through the kitchen, a keg store and a short passage toward the rear of the building.
Connor found nothing. Refrigeration temperatures were posted. Alcohol licenses were displayed. Kitchen equipment looked recently installed. The owner had clearly spent money bringing the building up to standard.
Connor should have felt relieved. Instead, every clean room moved the clock closer to five.
At the end of the rear corridor, he stopped.
A green EXIT sign hung above a metal door. Three beer kegs stood in front of it. Cardboard delivery crates filled most of the space beside them, and a stack of folded highchairs narrowed the corridor farther.
Connor pointed. “That an emergency exit?”
The owner nodded toward it. “Yeah.”
“Why is it blocked?”
“It’s not blocked.”
Connor walked over. “Move the keg.”
“You can get around it.”
“One person can.”
The owner’s irritation sharpened. “Delivery came this morning. I haven’t had time to move everything.”
Connor stepped sideways through the remaining gap and pushed the crash bar. The door opened.
Technically usable. A packed bar trying to get through in smoke would be another matter.
He looked back at the corridor, then took out his phone.
The owner’s expression changed. “Who are you calling?”
“The state fire marshal's office.”
“Oh, come on.”
“That exit route isn’t safe.”
“You came in here looking for something.”
Connor met his stare.
The accusation was true.
That was the worst part.
