“Why not?” I asked. “How about breakfast?”
“Donald, I just want you to know how much I appreciate your loyalty and devotion and... and I’m going to kiss you good night.”
We went to the door. I opened the door. She said, “Good night, Donald.”
I said speculatively, “Do you have to go, Hazel?”
She laughed throatily and said, “Of course I have to go, Donald. I’m... well, I’m indiscreet, but I’m not a tramp. Anything with you would be just casual. I’m not casual, I’m... oh, I don’t know. See you for breakfast, Donald. Good night.”
She kissed me. It was quite a kiss.
I walked out and closed the door, took the key Hazel had given me, went down to her room; then, after a while, went out to the fire escape and looked out.
Everything seemed to be clear.
The fire escape was one of those iron stairway affairs that zigzagged down the side of the building. The bottom segment was on a powerful spring which held the iron ladder high enough so it couldn’t be reached from the ground. However, when a person descended the ladder, the weight of his body caused the last section of the ladder to lower.
I prowled around the hallway until I located a utility closet. It was locked but a celluloid pocket calendar about the size of a business card furnished a flexible medium which could be wormed in the crack of the door and was firm enough to push back the latch on the spring lock.
I looked around inside among the odds and ends in the closet and finally found a small coil of rope.
I went back to the fire escape, reconnoitered once more, crawled out on the fire escape, walked down the iron stairway until I came to the last section.
I felt my way cautiously down the last leg of the fire escape. Under my weight the metallic stairway slowly descended.
I knew I was being a sucker. I knew that the one thing the police wanted was to have me resort to flight. However, I had no alternative if I was going to stand a whisper of a chance of getting my hands on that fifty grand that I’d lost.
On the last step of the fire escape I passed the rope around the iron tread, tied it in a knot, then jumped down to the ground. Relieved of my weight, the spring in the iron stairway moved it smoothly back up to a point some fifteen feet off the ground.
The rope was a little short but by jumping up I could catch hold of the end.
I walked around the back of the hotel through an alley, stayed with the alley for two blocks, came out on a street which led to the beach. It was ten or fifteen minutes before I picked up a cruising taxicab.
I sent the cab driver toward town, telling him I’d have to give him the destination by sight because I couldn’t remember the street address.
Halfway to town I had him stop at a phone booth. I called Ernestine’s apartment.
A feminine voice answered.
“Ernestine?” I asked.
“Just a moment. I’ll call her.”
I figured that was either Bernice or a policewoman who had been assigned to stay with Ernestine.
A few moments later, Ernestine’s voice, sounding rather cautious, said, “Hello.”
“Don’t mention any names, Ernestine,” I said. “Are you alone?”
“No.”
“I know Bernice is there. Is there an officer there?”
“No, just Bernice and I.”
“This is Donald,” I said. “I want to see you.”
“Donald!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Donald, I do so want to see you! Can you come up?”
“I’m coming up,” I said.
“Oh, Donald, I have so much to tell you. Oh, it’s been such an exciting day! Such a simply wonderful, wonderful—”
“Save it,” I said. “I don’t know whether your phone is bugged or not. If it is, you won’t see me because they’ll have me in custody the minute I step out of the taxicab. If I get as far as your room I’m probably all right. Be ready to open the door as soon as you hear my knock, and, if possible, I’d like to talk with Bernice as well as you.”
“Oh, Bernie is terribly thrilled. She—”
“Save it,” I told her, “until I get there.”
I hung up, got back to the taxicab and didn’t seem too positive of where I wanted to go. “It’s an apartment house somewhere,” I said. “I’ll get you in the district and then we’ll have to cruise a bit until I find it. I’ll know it when I see it. I’ve been there a couple of times but I forget the name of the place.”
The cab driver was co-operative. He was also curious. If there were any spots in that district that he didn’t know about he wanted to be sure he didn’t remain too long in ignorance.
I sent him down one street, then back on another, suddenly said, “Here it is. That apartment house over there.”
The cab driver pulled up and took a good look at the place. I paid him off and went in.
I guess Ernestine must have been sitting by the door with one hand on the knob. I’d no sooner given the first preliminary tap than the door opened wide. I went in.
“Oh, Donald!” she said. “I’m so thrilled! Donald, this is Bernice. You know all about her.”
Bernice was a stunning-looking babe, a brunette with big, limpid eyes and curves that seemed to be trying to push their way through the clothes she was wearing. She certainly knew how to use those eyes and knew how to present her nylons to the best advantage.
“All right,” I said to Ernestine, “what happened today?”
She said, “Bernie will help us, Donald.”
I looked over at Bernice.
Bernice batted her eyes a couple of times and smiled, a tremulous, wistful smile.
It was easy to see that Bernice didn’t need to eat at home except when she wanted to.
I said, “Are you still willing to help me, Ernestine?”
“Anything,” she said. “Only...”
“Only what?” I asked.
“I have to co-operate with the police, too, you know.”
“Why?”
“Well, they told me I did. They’re working on a murder and... well, you know how it is.”
“Sure,” I said, “I understand.”
I turned to Bernice. “How about you?” I said.
She made with the eyes and then smoothed down the hem of her skirt and ran the tips of her fingers nervously along her stocking. “What can I do?” she asked.
I said, “I want to know a few things about Evelyn Ellis that it may be the hotel wouldn’t want you to talk about.”
“I’ve told the police all I know.”
“No, you haven’t,” I said, trying to follow the lead Ernestine had hinted at. “What about Evelyn’s sex life?”
“I wouldn’t know — except I guess there was plenty of it.”
“Come on,” I said, “this is for Ernestine. You’re going to help her by telling me some of the things you know that I want to know.”
“Well, she’s considerably over twenty-one. I would say she wasn’t entirely inexperienced — you wouldn’t expect that, would you?”
“I wouldn’t expect it,” I said. “I’m not asking you if she’s a virgin, if that’s what you mean.”
“I thought that’s what you meant.”
I said, “Bernice, quit stalling.”
“What do you want to know?”
“About the Japanese photographer,” I said.
“Oh, you mean the fellow with the rattling staccato voice — he’s a dear.”
“All right,” I said. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing. I’ve never met him. I know, of course, the number she calls, the Happy Daze Camera Company. They take model photographs and they’ve done all of her publicity photography.”
“And there’s a friendly relationship?”
“Oh, yes.”
“How friendly?”
“I don’t think she goes overboard with him, if that’s what you mean, but... it’s a relationship that’s hard to explain. He just worships the ground she walks on. She’s his goddess, his inspiration. You know, I’ll bet that he thinks she’s a sweet, loyal, lovable girl and as pure as the driven snow.”