I rode up in the elevator, unlocked my door and turned on the electric light. I was a little jumpy and wouldn’t have been surprised to find a couple of tough cops waiting for me, but the room was empty. I shut the door, crossed over to the bottle of Scotch and poured out two fingers of liquor. I took the drink to the armchair and sat down. There was no point in trying to find another hotel. I wouldn’t be allowed to stay. The pressure was on. I was being firmly eased out of town. If I bucked, I would run into trouble.
The memory of Sergeant Lassiter’s methods of persuasion made me feel lonely. I wished Bernie was with me to give me some moral support. I spent a hide time nursing my drink and turning the situation over in my mind. I finally decided to leave town in the morning and sneak back when it was dark. Bradley had said Sam Benn would hole me up if I wanted to go underground, and that seemed my best bet. I couldn’t hope to get anywhere if I worked in the open. From now on, I would have to do my investigating the hard way.
The sudden clamour of the telephone bell made me start so violently I slopped my drink. I reached for receiver.
‘This is Sladen,’ I said.
‘There you are,’ a voice I recognized said. ‘Suzy gave me your telephone number. If you’ve got nothing better to do, old fella, come out here and have a drink. I’ve a theory that might interest you.’
I had a mental picture of a hard-faced cop straining to catch every word, and I said sharply, ‘Don’t mention your name, and don’t say anything more. I’ll be out right away.’
‘What’s the excitement?’ Lennox Hartley asked, mildly interested. ‘Is someone listening on the line?’
‘Could be,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right over,’ and I hung up.
On my way down to the lobby, I wondered why he had called me at this hour. It was quite a run out to Cannon Avenue. I decided to take the Buick. If the police tailed me I stood a better chance of losing them if I did my own driving.
The garage was at the back of the hotel. A solitary light in the rafters made a yellow halo that was surrounded by shadows and darkness. The garage attendant came out of his office, sleepy eyed and surly. He told me where I could find the Buick, then went back to his disturbed doze. I drove out of the garage with only the parkers on and headed along the beach road. I drove for a half a mile, my attention focused on the driving mirror. No headlights came after me. I turned off the beach road and drove into the town.
The traffic was light now. A few nightclubs, an all night movie house and several cafes still showed signs of activity. The clock on the dashboard showed ten minutes past one. I drove aimlessly around, keeping to the back streets, until I convinced myself no car was following me, then I headed out to Cannon Avenue.
As I drove up the long, sedate avenue, the lights in the houses I passed told me night life in Tampa City was spent at home. There were cars parked outside most of the houses and the night air was full of the sound of dance music from overworked radio sets.
I reached the end of the avenue, made a U-turn and drove slowly back, passing Hartley’s Swiss chalet. No lights showed from the windows, but that didn’t mean anything. I had noticed on the two occasions I had been in his lounge that the window drapes were thick and heavy.
I stopped the Buick behind a Packard convertible, parked outside the house next to Hartley’s. I got out and walked back, pushed open his gate and walked up the drive-in.
When I came to rest before the front door, I paused to look back over the dark garden. The only sounds I could hear now were from the distant radio sets down the road. I lifted the bear’s head and knocked. I felt the door move. I pushed and the door swung open. I looked into darkness and silence.
Steadying the door, I knocked again. Nothing happened. The darkness moved out towards me. I leaned against it, listening, suddenly uneasy.
‘Anyone in?’ I asked and moved forward, my fingers groping in my pocket for my cigarette lighter.
The busy ticking of a clock nearby was the only sound I could hear. I got my lighter out and snapped it alight. The small yellow flame showed me a light switch near the door and I turned it on. I closed the front door, crossed the hall and peered into the dark lounge. As I reached forward to grope for the light switch I heard a sound that made me spin around: the sound of slow, dragging footfalls that came from above; sounds that made the hair on the nape of my neck bristle and my heart skip a beat.
