the rear of the garage to a door marked EXIT.
Two of the plainclothes policemen pursued Thomas. Two others slowly took the stairs.
Thomas reached the exit door and pushed it open, stopping, looking out onto Ninth Avenue, and calling Leslie by her first name.
He stood in the exit staring at the empty avenue, as if searching for her. There was no Leslie running in either direction. Shassad and Hearn were next to Daniels. Hearn was breathing hard, Shassad wasn't.
Shassad stepped past Daniels and looked up and down Ninth Avenue. He looked back to the attorney and spoke sourly 'Where is she?'
'You got a hell of a nerve! Where's who?'
'Don't get smarttassed,' Shassad grumbled.
'Where is she?'
Thomas Daniels was incensed.
'It's you who owes me the explanation! You frightened away an important client' 'My ass, we did!' snapped Shassad.
There was the sound of a mechanical voice. A walkie-talkie.
Thomas heard the voice say,
'Sergeant, we might have something.
Second floor.'
Shassad smiled slightly.
'Not so smart after all, are you?' he said.
Hearn held up and answered the walkie-talkie.
'We'll be up.' The detectives walked quickly upstairs. Thomas Daniels followed.
There was no woman to be seen anywhere in the second story. just an assortment of parked cars, plus one car for which the owner had arrived. The car, a long dark-blue Pontiac, was at the top of the second-floor ramp. Its owner, a tall, conservatively dressed man in an overcoat, was standing beside the car. He'd been confronted by the first two detectives.
'We looked on every other floor,' said one of the detectives to Shassad.
'She's not in here' 'This guy wants to take his car out the other cop told Shassad.
'I asked him if he'd open his trunk and he wouldn't' Shassad looked the man up and down. The man had been the first to appear who wanted to remove a car fron the premises. The car owner looked ordinary enough, but Shassad was laden with suspicion. He asked the man again if he'd open the car's trunk. Thomas Daniels studied the victim of the harassment.
'I'm sure you're only trying to do your job, patrolman,' said the man, 'but-' 'De-tec-tive corrected Shassad, pronouncing all three syllables succinctly.
'-but, yes, I do mind' The two other detectives ea suafly stepped up and down the sides of the car, eyeing it as if they could see through it. The back seat and interior had long since been looked into.
'Why do you mind?' pressed Shassad, buying time.
'Because,' said the man with growing annoyance,
'I don't like being treated like a criminal. My trunk's empty,' he said caustically.
– You have my word.'
The man's key was in his hand. He opened the door on the side of the driver's seat and began to step into the car.
'Suppose I insisted' said Shassad angrily, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.
Thomas, observing, spoke,
'Couldn't an officer get a pretty severe reprimand for in sistine asked Thomas. All five heads turned to Thomas.
'For insisting without a warrant? In front of a witness who also happened to be an attorney?'
Shassad removed his hand from the man's shoulder. He looked at Thomas Daniels bitterly When he stepped from the cab on Seventy-third Street, he looked both ways, a habit he'd developed in light of recent events.
Daniels entered his building and climbed the stairs. He was still somewhat preoccupied with the events of the evening. He noticed nothing conspicuously unusual as he unlocked the double lock on his apartment door and entered.
He had already turned on the dim light in the entrance hall and had taken two steps forward into the living room. It was at that time, from the side, that an unseen hand turned on the living-room light and Thomas whirled to see a stunning second presence in the room with him.
In that immeasurable short lapse between realization and recognition, a thousand fears flashed through his mind. Not the least of which was that this was how people were murdered.
Chapter 10
'Well' he said, fumbling with the words. His heart left his throat and tumbled back to where it belonged in his chest.
'Life is filled with surprises.'
He eyed Leslie appraisingly as she stood by a light switch in the living room. He was close enough to see her eye movement, close enough to notice that she was checking to be sure he was alone.
Satisfied, she stepped away from the light switch. With a graceful, feminine gesture she swept her skirt under her and sat down on his sofa.
'You lied to me,' she said.
'At least three times.'
'I? Lied to you?' he repeated. Both anger and confusion marked his words. He tried to fathom her statement.
'Yes she said flatly, as if it made no difference. But of course it did.
He pulled off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. He sat down a few feet away from her across an open space of room. In one of the tributary channels of his mind it occurred to him that his door had shown no signs of tampering. How-had she gained entry-magic?
'Lie number one: You told me you have an office here. You don't. Two:
You said originally that you had access to the will. You haven't. And three, you said we were speaking in confidence.
You've broken that confidence. Those men tonight were police.'
'You're right,' he conceded.
'Well?' she asked impatiently.
'Aren't you going to offer an excuse?'
'Should I bother?'
'I wish you would' He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, acting just as a witness must when trapped with perjured testimony.
'My offices were completely destroyed by arson. You saw what was left.
The arson may or may not have had to do with this case' He looked at her carefully, trying unsuccessfully to see how the story was being received.
'When you came and presented your story, I believed you. I wanted to take your case and retain you as a client. So I misrepresented my files as being intact. I needed time.'
'What about the police?'
'I had to account for my time on the night of the fire. They were questioning me on another matter.'
'And the will?'
'I don't have it.'
'Where is it?'
'I don't know. I'm grateful for the benefit of the doubt,' he said heavily.
Her left hand played with a strand of brown hair by her shoulder.
