Without much enthusiasm the young man left Karyn sitting on the sofa that probably opened into a queen-sized bed, and he disappeared into another room. After several minutes he came back carrying a ledger-sized book.
"You're right," he said, "Christopher Halloran was in 314-C three years ago. Had the place a year, moved out the next April."
Karyn calculated that Chris had given up his apartment here shortly after their split-up in Las Vegas.
"What was the forwarding address?" she said.
Ron scowled down at the ledger. "There isn't any."
"But there has to be." A note of panic crept into Karyn's voice.
"Well, there isn't," Ron insisted. "There's no law that says you have to give one. Listen, if you're so hot to find this guy, why don't you hire a detective?"
Because there's no time, Karyn thought. I need Chris now, today, before something else happens. Before someone else dies.
"Anything wrong?"
Karyn realized she had been staring right through the manager. She shook her head and managed a smile. "No, nothing. Thanks for your trouble." She turned to leave.
"Sure you don't want to just take a look at that bachelorette? We're building tennis courts, and there're parties three nights a week."
Karyn gave him another small shake of her head and walked on out of the Surf King. The dashboard clock in the Buick told her the day was half gone. She felt a terrible urgency to locate Chris before nightfall.
Her next stop was Techtron Engineering, in Inglewood, near the airport. She went inside and spoke to the personnel manager in his small, functional office.
"Chris Halloran left Techtron two years ago," he said.
Karyn felt a sudden emptiness.
"He took a long leave of absence, and when he came back he was never quite the same. Restless, sort of. We were all sorry to see him go. Everyone here liked Chris. In the last few weeks here, though, he couldn't settle down to handle the routine parts of his job. Said he needed more freedom. So he quit."
Afraid of the answer she would get, Karyn asked the question, "Do you know where he went?"
"Oh, yes."
Hope flickered again.
"Chris and another man who worked here at the time, a man named Walter Eckersall, went into partnership and started their own consulting firm. They were a perfect team. Chris supplied the enthusiasm and the creative thinking, and Walt took care of the solid, practical details."
"Are they still in business?"
"Yes, they are. And doing very well, too. We even call them in to do a job for us now and then."
The personnel man wrote down an address in North Hollywood. Karyn thanked him and hurried out to the Buick. It was mid-afternoon. Time was slipping away.
The building on Lankershim Boulevard was a low, cinderblock structure with clean lines and a modest sign on the front identifying it as E & H Engineering Consultants. Karyn scanned the automobiles parked in the diagonal spaces in front of the building, half-hoping to see Chris's bright red Camaro. It was not there. But of course, she told herself, he would have a different car by now.
Inside, the girl at the reception desk, a chesty brunette, smiled up at her.
"I'd like to see Mr. Halloran," Karyn said.
"Mr. Halloran isn't in," the girl said carefully. "Can Mr. Eckersall help you?"
Karyn's spirits sagged again. Finding someone in real life could be so difficult. In the movies all you did was pick up a phone, and there they were. But in the movies there was always a parking place in front of the bank too.
"I'll talk to Mr. Eckersall," she said.
Walter Eckersall was a tall, loose-jointed man with bushy brown hair. He wore black-rimmed plastic glasses and spoke in a voice of surprising gentleness. "You had some business with Chris?" he said.
"Not really," Karyn said. "It's more personal."
Eckersall's eyes shifted their focus to a far corner of the room. "Chris is taking a little vacation just now. If you're a friend of his, you'll know how he appreciates his leisure."
"Yes, I know," Karyn said quickly. "Can you tell me where he's gone?"
Eckersall looked uncomfortable. "Uh, I don't know if I can, really, uh - "
"I should tell you," Karyn said, "that there is no romance involved here. My personal business with Chris has nothing to do with his private life."
Eckersall gave her a relieved smile. "Sorry. When an attractive lady comes in looking for Chris I sort of assume - well, never mind that. He's down in Mexico now. Staying at a hotel just outside Mazatlan. The Palacia del Mar."
"Thank you," Karyn said. "And don't worry, you haven't gotten Chris in any trouble."
"There's one more thing I'd better mention," Eckersall said. "He's not down there alone."
Karyn hesitated only a moment. "Knowing Chris," she said, I didn't think he would be."
Heading back to Brentwood in the late afternoon, Karyn silently cursed the traffic on Sunset Boulevard that slowed her progress. Soon it would be dark, and the night, she knew, belonged to the werewolf.
By the time she reached her parents' house the sun had slipped down behind the Santa Monica Mountains. Darkness fell like a curtain. Karyn put the car away in the garage, then stood outside and swung down the counterbalanced door. She started for the house. Halfway along the walk to the front door her heart froze.
A sound.
Something moving in the bushes.
Karyn turned for one terrified look. It was just a dark shape. A shadow moving among shadows. But there was no mistaking what it was.
Karyn fought off the paralysis and ran for the house. Please, God, let the door be unlocked! She banged into the solid oak panel, fumbled a split second for the knob, turned it in her slippery hand and half-fell into the house.
Mr. and Mrs. Oliver, startled, rose from their chairs in the living room. Karyn slammed the heavy door shut and cranked the deadbolt lock into place. Outside something thudded softly against the door. Then there was silence.
Her mother came quickly toward her. "Karyn, what's the matter?"
"Is someone out there?" her father said. Karyn stood with her back braced against the door and struggled to keep her voice at a normal level. "It's all right. Something startled me for a moment."
Mrs. Oliver put her hands gently on her daughter's shoulders. Frank Oliver reached for the doorknob.
"If somebody's bothering you - " he began.
"No, Daddy, don't go out there!!" Karyn cried. Her father looked at her sharply, and she went on in a quieter tone. "Please, Daddy. For me."
Reluctantly he drew his hand back.
"Is the back door locked?" Karyn asked. "And the windows?"
"Karyn," her father said, "If something's happened, I want to know about it."
"Frank." Mrs. Oliver's tone caught his attention. "It won't do any harm to make sure the place is locked up. And it will make Karyn feel better."
Frank Oliver looked from his wife to his daughter. "Well, sure. All right."
"Could we do it now?" Karyn said. "Right away?"
Mr. and Mrs. Oliver exchanged a look, then began checking the windows. Karyn hurried through the house and tried the back door. She was relieved to find it locked. After making sure the kitchen windows were secure, she relaxed a little. She knew her mother and father thought they were humoring a somewhat neurotic daughter, but that was all right. Better than taking a chance with the thing that was out there somewhere in the night. The beast was taunting her, Karyn felt. Letting her know it could kill her at almost any time it chose. Well, maybe it would pass up one opportunity too many.
She drew a deep breath and walked back into the living room to join her parents.
"Everything's locked up tight," Mrs. Oliver said.
"And double-checked," Frank Oliver added.