O’Hara continued to stare at the ship. Finally, as the Magician stood up to go to the phone, he said, ‘I’m going back on board.’
‘Why?’
‘Remember I told you how frantic Lavander was about his hotel room after he was released in Caracas?’
‘So?’
‘Why should he care? The company was paying his expenses. What was so important about the room?’
‘Maybe he was worried about his baggage,’
‘I’ve seen his baggage. Believe me, it has nothing to do with his baggage. I mean, Tony said it was the first thing out of his mouth.’
‘So?’
‘So I think he hid something in the room and he was worried about getting it back.’
‘Money?’
‘Could be. I doubt it. He’s got money stashed all over the world.’
‘So what d’ya think, Sailor?’
‘According to your information on Lavander, he keeps personal records in a book. Maybe the book’s too big to carry around. So, he hides it.’
‘You’ve searched his room.’
‘Maybe I missed something. I got this worm in my stomach that keeps telling me I missed something.’
‘What if Hinge has shown up at the airport?’
‘I won’t be gone long. You call the hotel; I’ll be back in ten minutes,’
He had no problem getting aboard. The corridor was empty. Most of the passengers were still living it up in town. He popped the lock and cautiously entered the cabin again.
The maid had cleaned the small room. O’Hara closed the porthole and pulled the curtains and turned on the lamp. He sat down on the bed and slowly looked around the room. He checked the closet again and the suitcase. He checked the lavatory again. He lifted the mattress and checked under it and then felt the mattress carefully, then replaced it.
He sat back on the bed again.
He stared at the dresser. He got up and took out the drawers, one at a time, starting with the top drawer. The fourth drawer down stuck as he pulled it out. He took out the fifth drawer, lay down on the floor, struck fire to his lighter and held it in under the drawer. There was a black letter-sized notebook taped to the bottom.
O’Hara pulled it free and sat on the floor, leafing through page after page of figures and code words. Not one page in the book made any sense.
He replaced the drawers, stuffed the book into the back of his pants, shut off the lights and left.
The Magician was waiting in front of the bar. ‘He arrived on the six-ten from Miami,’ the musician said excitedly. ‘It was twenty minutes late. She called and left a message about five minutes before I called.’
‘Then Lavander’s still alive.’
‘C’mon,’ the Magician said. ‘I’ve already squared the bill. Let’s get back to the hotel so we can catch her next call in person.’
Eliza drove slowly through the dark. She had circled back to the little park after losing Hinge and now she was near tears. Had he seen her? Or did she just lose him? Either way, she had lost their ace in the hole.
She kept circling, hoping to blunder upon Hinge. After ten minutes of fruitless driving she gave up. She started looking for a telephone. The dark streets led her back to the waterfront. She passed a noisy club, and a block ahead, saw a phone booth on the opposite side of the street.
She stopped, rooted through her cluttered shoulder bag, found a dime, dropped the car keys in her bag and ran across the street to the phone booth.
It took forever for the operator to answer.
‘Cottage Sixteen, please,’ she said.
‘Thank you.’
It rang several times but there was no answer. She jiggled the hook and got the operator back. ‘I want to leave another message, please.’
‘Go ahead.’
Headlights turned into the darkened street two blocks away, but her back was turned to them.
‘For Sixteen. The message is: “Have lost the luggage. I am coming back to the hotel.”
‘You are having a terrible time with your baggage,’ the operator said. ‘Perhaps our manager can be of some assistance.’
The car was moving slowly down the street toward her.
‘Uh, I think the airline has taken—’
She turned and saw the car, less than a block away. The red Datsun. Hinge’s leathery face loomed behind the wheel.
