I muttered. “We could have waited until the courthouse opens at nine A.M.” “Shush and hold the light up a little higher.” Phyllis had a hairpin and a lock pick in her hands and was doing an impressive job of unlocking doors in the courthouse. There was a double click sound and the door opened. “How did you learn to do that?” I asked as we stepped into the darkened records room. A chilled breeze snaked around my legs. I refused to think of all the ghosts that ran the halls of this old building. Even worse was the thought that Lois might be one of them. “Why not use the copy of the key you made?” “I dated an escape artist in my twenties.” Phyllis grabbed a flashlight from me and walked by the shadowed research table, around the librarian’s desk and straight back to the glass-covered shelves in the back. “I like to keep up on the skill. If you don’t use it, you lose it.” “You dated an escape artist?”
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