"She was not at the ticket office, so I went to Spencer's apartment and let myself in. It was empty."
"Did you find anything to give you the idea she might have been there?"
"Nothing." Cordovez turned away, his disappointment showing in his voice. "I went to the offices of the Bulletin. They told me Spencer had been in this afternoon but they could not say when he would return. They thought perhaps around seven. But one thing I learned," he said grimly.
"What?"
"At the airline office I made other inquiries. Spencer has a seat on the ten o'clock light to New York."
Jeff thought it over, eyes narrowing and the tension still warping his mouth. The discovery suggested many possibilities but at the moment did little to allay his fears for the girl
"O. K.," he said. "We can stop that if we have to, but that's damn near five hours from now. Where is she?" he asked hoarsely. "She didn't fust disappear. She's got to be some place."
He hesitated, making another effort to get his thoughts in order.
"She must have found out something," he said. "She must have run across some evidence that hooks up with murder. Somebody found it out and grabbed her. It's got to be that way. If it's not Spencer then it's got to be Fiske, or Diana Grayson, or Luis Miranda. They're the only ones involved."
He took a breath and this time when he reached for his coat he put it on. He was no longer worried about Segurnal. The only important thing was Karen Holmes and he was sick of inaction, sick of having people do things for him while he did nothing for himself.
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
"Let's go, Julio/* he said. "And don't give me any argument. If she's being held at Grayson's or Miranda's we'll damn soon know it."
He opened the door and started down the hall, Cordovez at his heels. When they got into the sedan he thought of something else and mentioned it.
"What about Carl Webb?"
Cordovez considered the suggestion., but when he replied he did not sound convinced.
"It is a possibility."
"That's all we can hope for/' Jeff said, Tf he got his hands on that dough and Karen happened to find out about it— 3 '
He did not have to complete the thought and Cordovez interrupted. "It will be a simple matter to check his room and it will not take long."
They drove in silence after that and when they approached the Tucan, Cordovez parked some distance from the entrance. "I will have a look/' he said. "Please stay here."
Jeff did not argue this time, but lit a cigarette and watched the little man hurry away. He watched until Cordovez disappeared through the front entrance and then sat that way, fighting his anxiety and keeping his impatience in hand until Cordovez came hurrying back to the car.
"The room is empty/' he said as he stepped on the starter. c Those at the desk do not recall seeing him recently. . . . You wish to go to Grayson's first, or to the Miranda home?"
"Which is closer?"
"There is little difference/'
"Then let's try Grayson's."
Diana Grayson eyed her visitors with some surprise, but her company manners were excellent. She invited them in
and listened politely to what Jeff had to say. Then she shook her head.
"Why no/' she said. "I haven't seen Miss Holmes since the other morning/*
Jeff's glance had been inspecting the room and the lawn and the hallway as she spoke, and then, because he knew how easy it would be to lie about such a thing, he said:
"Do you mind if we look around?"
He watched the brows arch and the quick resentment flicker in her eyes. He thought she was going to refuse, but she laughed and spread one hand, palm up.
"Help yourself/* she said coldly. "You don't mind if I pass up the tour, do you?"
Jeff was in no mood to resent the snub and when she sat down on the divan and opened a magazine, he started off, not sure where he was going but determined to inspect every room and every closet. With Cordovez's help it did not take long. The maid in the kitchen gave them no more than a curious glance, but Cordovez stopped long enough to converse with her briefly.
He caught up with Jeff in the first bedroom, checked the bath, went on to the second bedroom and bath. A corridor which angled from the main hall led down two steps to the small wing which Dudley Fiske occupied, a large bedroom complete with television, a bath, and a separate entrance.
Certain now that no one was concealed here, Jeff led the way out the door and continued on to the garage. A late-model hardtop occupied one half of the space, but there was nothing else, and now he went back to the house and asked about Dudley Fiske.
"He went out to get some liquor." Diana Grayson smiled at Jeff and her sarcasm was softly cadenced. "He should be back any minute if you'd care to wait."
When Jeff hesitated, Cordovez touched his arm and a jerk of his head conveyed the idea that it was time to leave. When they went back to the car, he explained why.
"I spoke to the maid/' he said. "The girl has not been here." He drove down the hill and turned into an avenue which took them toward the Caracas Country Club. "Also/* he said, "I took time at the Tucan to telephone Miranda's office. He has not been there since noon/*
He drove silently then until he came to a district where houses became more expensive-looking and the surrounding lawns were wider. Mostly the architecture was traditional rather than modern and as they approached an impressive white-stucco house on the right, he stopped the car.
"Permit me to make a suggestion/' he said. a l share your anxiety for Miss Holmes, but I think it would be wise to use caution here."
Jefi looked at him, not understanding what he meant and, in his particular frame of mind, not exactly caring. He had had enough of caution. What he wanted was action and he said so,
"I understand," Cordovez said. "Still I do not think it will be easy to search this house if Luis Miranda is home. In fact he will not permit it. As a matter of pride he would resist. Also, there is a simpler way to get the information you desire/*
JName it"
*I will go to the rear and speak to the servants. They have respect for authority. When they see I am a detective they will tell me what I want to know. Believe me, the girl could not be in this house without their knowledge,* 7
Sentenced again to inaction because he could not argue with such commendable reasoning, Jeff stayed in the car. He saw the little man edge round the corner post of the driveway gate and disappear into the dusk which had
been moving down the surrounding hillsides. Once, he looked at his watch. Ten minutes of seven. And if Karen was not here, where was she? What could he do next?
Five minutes passed, and somewhere in the distance a bell tolled softly. The darkness came swiftly then and it was darkest of all in his heart because it seemed now that this was his fault. If he had given himself up and told his story yesterday afternoon this could never have happened; there would have been no need for Karen's help, no reason for her to take chances.
Again he glanced at his watch while the torment grew inside his head and he tried to think, to remember details, to look ahead and" decide what could be done next. From out of the vortex of those thoughts he recalled the riding crop and the metal ferrule and now, focusing for that instant on Luis Miranda, he understood that there could still be one more place the girl might have been taken. It would be a remote chance, but the possibility existed, and possibilities were all he had left.
Cordovez opened the car door before Jeff knew he was there. "She has not been there," he said. "Nor has Luis Miranda. He left this morning and has not yet returned."
"All right," Jeff said. "Let's travel. Do you know Ma-cuto?"
"Of course."
"Miranda has a beach cottage there. Do you know where it is? Could you find it in the dark?"