Decker hefted the tripod, folded the legs, then leaned the apparatus against the wall. He turned around and walked across the room. He pivoted and retraced his steps. Did it a third time.

“Getting some exercise?” Marge asked, bemused. She knew he was up to something.

Decker stood at the room’s center and bounced on the balls of his feet. The flooring underneath was springy. He bent down and felt the linoleum tiles.

“We’ve got a trapdoor here,” he said. “Get me something to pry it open with.”

After a minute of searching Marge found a screwdriver.

“This isn’t heavy enough,” Decker complained. “I can’t get any leverage. The damn thing’s not budging.”

“Maybe it’s locked,” Marge said.

“I knew there was a reason for having you here.”

Marge slugged him. Hard.

“Spring lock,” he said. “Where the hell is the release button?”

Marge searched the walls. Nothing except light switches, and that wouldn’t make sense. Accidentally flip the wrong switch and up flies the tripod. But she tried all of them anyway. Nothing.

“Try the ceiling fan,” she suggested.

Decker pulled the cord. The fan turned on. Another pull, the fan turned off.

“Leave it on,” Marge said. “Get some air in the place.”

He tugged on the cord and walked inside the dressing rooms. The walls were bare.

“We could saw the door open,” he suggested.

“Where’s your spirit of detection?” she said.

“I’m tired.”

“Let’s be logical,” she said. “If that’s Pode’s hiding place, he’d have to be able to get into it quickly. It wouldn’t make sense to move the camera, run out to the waiting room, push a button and run back into this room. His enemies would get him by then. The button has to be close by. It also has to be wired through the floor and maybe through the wall and ceiling. So the button has to be on the floor, wall, or ceiling. We’ve scoured the walls and ceiling. That leaves us to crawl around on our hands and knees, big fellah.”

The button was under a loose corner tile. Marge pressed it and the trap door sprung open. The area underneath was pitch black.

“Got a flashlight?” he asked.

“Wait a sec. I’ll get one from the trunk.”

Decker stuck his hand inside the dark hole. He shouted hello, and from the sound of the echo, knew the space was deep. Marge came back a minute later, bent down next to him and shined the light into the darkness.

“How the hell do we get down there?” she wondered out loud. “I don’t see any sort of ladder.”

“How many feet to the bottom?” Decker asked, squinting over the edge, trying to make out the dimensions.

“It looks too deep to jump,” Marge said. “Wonder how he got down here.”