“You can’t stay in there forever,” Beth called out through the locked door. “Why not? My life’s in the toilet anyway.” “It’s been nearly an hour already,” Mallory reasoned. “We can’t help you unless you let us help you.” But they couldn’t help me anyway. I was beyond help. I was so far beyond that I could see flames and pitchforks in my future and I had a distinct visual of Detective Kellum hammering nails into my coffin. A couple of seconds later I heard rattling at the doorknob and the bathroom door swung open. “It’s a bathroom door.” Beth shrugged and held up a long toothpick. “And I’ve got to work tomorrow, so I can’t spend any more time talking to you through a closed door.” “I want to try something,” Mallory said. She stepped past Beth to help lift me to my feet. “I got an email from Zelma today and I think we need to at least try some of her suggestions.”
