John shivered as he stepped from his Jag. Despite being a hard-headed businessman, pragmatic in all his dealing, he was still human enough for a setting like this to send a shiver down his spine. Tugging his expensive overcoat tighter over his Armani suit, he locked his car and headed towards the looming hulk of the building he'd just bought.
Although he'd purchased the massive old theatre with the intent to demolish it for room to build a mini-mall, one of his underlings had made two observations. The first was the fact that the city wasn't expanding as fast as John had anticipated, and the site was still in a very remote location, and would be for a couple of years now.
The second was the fact that the old building might be in good enough shape to renovate into apartments. WIth the interesting design of the massive old theatre, such specialty appartments could be rented for a fortune.
So, John had come out for a look. Now, he let himself into the old building by a rear door, the lock stiff with age. When it finally gave, he stepped inside, the door swinging shut and latching behind him.
Looking around, John immediately realized it was a wasted trip, and sighed. The must room he was in was mostly bare, and was obviousl starting to fall apart. The only thing of interest was a massive antique starcase made of wrought iron, extending upwards and downwards. Two faded signs hung on the iron monstrosity. One, with an arrow pointing upwards, read 'To Dressing Rooms'. The other, pointing down, read 'To Prop Storage.'
Shaking his head, John turned to leave. The door he'd come in was the sort that locked from both sides, and he struggled with the stiff lock, trying to let himself out.
That's when the old key snapped cleanly in half, the grooved tongue stuck in the tumblers of the lock.
Swearing, Jack threw the useless piece he held aside, then faced the stairs. He had to find another way out, and decided his best choice was to...
candidate 70