The living-room was rather sparsely furnished but spotless, the curtains clean, the children's toys neatly piled in one corner. A small bed and a crib, visible from the doorway of the first bedroom, testified to its use. Cordovez was snapping on the light in the rear room.
"You will sleep here tonight/' he said, indicating the double bed.
"And where will you sleep?"
"In the front room."
"Oh ? no."
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
"But yes/' Cordovez said firmly. 1 will explain why. For one your size, the sofa will be uncomfortable. For me it serves very well. Believe me, I have tried it often. Come,** he said, as though the matter was decided. "Try on the suit. Let us see if it will become you."
He slipped the coat and trousers from the hanger and unbuttoned the clean shirt while Jeff undressed. "My friend is about your size," he said. "You will find the coat somewhat different in cut to your own, but that is good. One noticing it will be assured it was manufactured in Caracas/*
The shirt proved to be adequate, the sleeves a little short but the collar fitting perfectly. Jeff needed his belt to secure the waistband of the trousers, but the coat hung well and the shade of blue was inconspicuous.
"You see," Cordovez said happily.
He stood back. He spread his hands, and the expression on his face could have been no more pleased had he designed the suit himself.
"Dressed that way you look better. How does it feel?"
"Feels O. K.," Jeff said and began to transfer his things from his slacks and jacket to the new suit.
"Since I will do the talking," Cordovez said, "no one will suspect you are not a countryman of mine. Now, if you are ready," he said, "we will eat. w
Once in the car, Cordovez went round the block and turned downhill Still without knowing where he was, Jeff was again reminded of Southern California when the valley opened up and he saw the patternless brilliance of the lights and neon signs. He had the feeling that he had seen this part of the city in daylight but he did not recognize the triangular plaza where Cordovez parked the car,
"I hope you will like this," he said as he locked the doors. "There are three choices: Grilled meat, of many kinds and
in small pieces; steak, which is usually good; and chicken, which is always dependable."
"How's the chicken fixed?' 7
"Grilled, like the others, You will see for yourself.*'
He led the way into a low-ceilinged room that was crowded, smoke-filled, and noisy. A trio consisting of accordion, violin, and bass played loudly and with gusto, and at first glance every table seemed taken. Then, at the steps which led to die adjacent room, Cordovez exchanged Halos with one of the proprietors. Words were spoken and a waiter dispatched to clean up a recently vacated place along the wall
"Now/' said Cordovez, settling himself, "you would like the chicken? And a salad?"
"And a drink."
"Yes/'
"Whisky," Jeff said. "With a little soda. Tell the man "a double whisky."
Cordovez conferred with the waiter, who was putting out knives, forks, and spoons of the kitchen variety. By the time Jeff had his cigarette going the whisky came and so did a beer for the detective.
"Salud" he said, and raised his glass. He drank thirstily and wiped his mouth. He took out Ms notebook and ripped out a clean sheet, wrote down an address with his mechanical pencil, and passed the slip to Jeff.
"This is the address where I live," he said, "in case you need it to show to some taxi driver. Also"—he took a key from his pocket—"this is an extra key. My house is yours and you can come and go as you like. 5 *
"Until Pedro Vidal's boys pick me up," Jeff said dryly,
"Let us hope this does not happen— Ah-h." The dark eyes opened and the white teeth Hashed in a smile of anticipation as he unfolded his paper napkin and eyed the food.
Jeff smiled in eager anticipation, too, not so much because lie was hungry but because he had never seen anything quite like this. For when Cordovez said the food was grilled he meant just that, and on an individual basis. Each table had its own small grill and the charcoal was still smoldering when the waiter whisked it in front of them. On top of the grill a chicken had been split and rested with the skin up, a golden brown now and glistening with some clear sauce faintly flavored with onion.
To complete the presentation, individual cutting-boards were placed in front of them, instead of plates, to make the dismantling of the chicken easier. After that came the French fried potatoes in a basket, the hot bread, and a salad that was aromatic and crisply cool.
"You like this place?" Cordovez asked when he had licked his fingers and dried them on the napkin.
"Very much/' Jeff said. "The food was delicious. 3 *
Cordovez accepted a cigarette and gave forth with a contented sigh. He glanced about the room and then, as though once more conscious of the problem which still had to be faced, his expression grew serious.
"What would you like to do now?"
Reluctantly Jeff brought his thoughts into focus. He wanted most to have a talk with Dan Spencer, but he was afraid to go to the newspaper office, and he knew that since the Bulletin was a morning paper, it would be some time before Spencer was off duty. Meanwhile—
"I'd like to talk to Mrs. Grayson again if you think we can manage it."
"We can try. The house is not far from here,** Cordovez said, but later, as the car rolled slowly up the winding street in second gear, he offered some words of caution.
"I will not stop now/' he said as they approached the low and rambling house and saw the light in the windows. "I wish to make sure no one is watching."
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
He pressed the clutch pedal and their momentum carried them past the driveway and now Cordovez had his head out the window and his nose in the air, as though he was trying to find some scent of danger. He drove on another block and turned round. He passed the house again with his lights out and pulled a hundred feet beyond the crest of the hill.
"You will not need me inside?"
"No."
"I think it is safe, but it is also better that I wait here. If you hear the horn three times you will know there is some difficulty. In that event it might be best for you to leave by the back entrance—if you can,"
Jeff got out and closed the door quietly. He said there wasn't going to be any trouble and that all Julio had to do was sit and take a little snooze.
14
DUDLEY FISKE opened the door in response to Jeff's ring. When he recognized his caller his eyes blinked uncertainly behind the glasses and he stood in the opening,
one hand still on the knob.
"Oh, hello, Lane," he said without enthusiasm. "Aren't
you taking a bit of a chance coming here?" "Why?" Jeff said. "Are you thinking of turning me in?" "It's not that. It's just that I understood the police were
looking for you. They've been here before and I wouldn't
be surprised if they came back."
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
Td like to talk to Mrs. Grayson," Jeff said. "It shouldn't take too long."
Again Fiske seemed undecided, but now a woman's voice called to him from some inner room and this apparently decided him. He moved aside. Jeff waited until he had closed the door and then waited for Fiske to lead the way.
''After you/' he said, "if you don't mind.*'
If Diana Grayson was suffering emotionally over the loss of her husband, she gave no outward sign of the tragedy. Her gray hair shone softly in the lamplight and her blue dress with its tight bodice and flaring skirt seemed more suitable for an afternoon party at the Tamanaco. She had a cigarette in one hand, a brandy snifter in the other, and when she saw Jeff she waved at the tray on the coffee table with its bottle and glasses. A similar glass, still partly full, stood to one side.