The lobby clerk was working the switchboard, his back to me. I got into the automatic elevator, punched a button and rode up.
Hardesty came to the door in a dressing gown. He started to smile when he saw me. Then his eyes widened, and the smile faded into a startled frown. And he grabbed my shoulder abruptly and jerked me inside.
'Why the hell did you come here?' he snarled, slamming the door. 'Haven't you got sense enough to-' Breaking off with an angry curse, he strode across the room to a large radio and flicked the switch.
It burst into raucous sound, and cursing again, he turned down the volume. 'Listen,' he said, curtly.
I listened.
'… additional information on the man who, a few minutes ago, beat an elevator operator in the Haddon Building unconscious, murdered a tenant of the building and escaped after slugging a police officer with the dead man's body.
'The murderer is about six feet four inches tall and has red hair. His complexion is swarthy; he is well-dressed; he is believed to be driving a late-model coupe with an out of state license. The elevator operator believes him to be the same man he saw loitering around the building earlier in the evening. No motive is yet apparent for…'
The radio switch clicked.
Hardesty looked at me, grinning; smiling in affable apology.
'Sorry, Pat,' he said. 'I was listening to that when you knocked, and I thought-well, that red hair and all…'
His voice trailed off, and he frowned again.
'Oh,' he said, softly. 'So it was you.'
'I'm the man they're looking for,' I nodded. 'But I didn't kill anyone. I found the body. I was afraid the murder might be pinned on me so I tried to get it out of the building.'
I gave him a brief account of what happened. He listened absently, with only a pretense of interest, but his face cleared.
'Well,' he shrugged, 'they seemed to have you tabbed wrong, anyway, even to the license on your car. The only thing they've got right is your hair and they can't haul in every red-haired man in town.'
'They can haul in all those who have criminal records,' I said. 'And that elevator operator could identify me if he saw me again.'
'I doubt it.' He shook his head. 'And how are the police going to know that the murderer had a criminal record? No, just sit tight for a few days, keep out of that neighborhood, and you'll be all right. Three or four days from now that elevator jockey wouldn't know you, even if you did have the bad luck to run into him.'
'I hope you're right,' I said.
'I'm sure of it, Pat. I know how those things go. It would have been better of course if you'd just walked out after you discovered the body. But that can't be helped now. Sit down and have a drink. I think you could use one.
'Now,' he said, when he had poured two stiff drinks, 'I wonder if there isn't something else you should tell me, Pat.'
'For instance?' I tossed down my drink and poured another one.
'For instance, how you happened to be in this detective's office.'
'I had an appointment with him,' I said.
'I supposed you had.'
'He was going to tell me what this was all about, why I was paroled from Sandstone.'
'I see.' He sat with his arms on his knees, bent forward a little, the glass cupped in his hands. There was a faint smile on his lips. 'He was going to tell you something. He got killed. What conclusion would you draw from that?'
'You mean I shouldn't be curious?'
'That's exactly what I mean, Pat. I-'
'I think you're wrong,' I said. 'I think I should be a damned sight more curious than I have been. The murder is proof that I'm playing blind in a game where a life means nothing. Before tonight I was just worried. Now I know that I've got to find out what's going on.'
'Oh?' he said, softly. 'How do you propose to go about that, Pat?'
'I've already got an opening wedge. Mrs. Luther had an appointment ahead of me tonight. I think it's safe to assume that what Eggleston knew was about her.'
'Mmm,' he took a sip of the whiskey. 'Go on.'
'But she didn't keep that appointment. She told someone else about it and whoever that was came and killed Eggleston. In other words, her escort wasn't just important to her. In fact'-I hesitated, 'it wasn't as important to her as it was to others, the murderer, for example.'
'How,' he said, 'do you figure that?'
'Because she didn't handle it herself. It wouldn't have meant enough to her to commit murder, and murder had to be done. Therefore she wasn't allowed to keep the appointment.'
'I see. Good reasoning,' he nodded.
'Not very,' I said. 'Or you wouldn't say so. It all rests on the assumption that it was Mrs. Luther who telephoned there to the office tonight. I'm sure now that it wasn't.'
He laughed and made a pass at slapping me on the knee. I drew my leg back.
'This isn't getting you anywhere, Pat,' he said, sobering. 'I told you I'd straighten everything out for you when the proper time came. Now, why don't you just forget it all for the present and we'll have a good talk some day soon when you're not so upset?'
'I'd like to know now,' I said. 'What do you want with me? You and Doc and whoever's working with you?'
'I'm sorry, Pat. I-'
'Dammit,' I said. 'You're going to have to tell me sometime. You want me on your side of the fence, and I can't be there unless I know your plans. Now what is it?'
'You're a very smart young man, Pat. Far too shrewd for my liking.'
'Thanks,' I said.
'And I won't be ready for you to act for several weeks yet. Probably a month or so. If I explained things now, well-you see why I can't. Why take chances, particularly when I don't have to?'
'I see,' I said. 'You want to spring it on me suddenly. Without giving me a chance to think. I'll have to jump one of two ways and yours will look the best.'
'Well, Pat?'
'You want me to kill Doc,' I said. 'Why?'
'Now, Pat'-he laughed nervously-'where do you get that idea?'
'All right,' I said. 'I'll kill him. I've had about all I can take. I'm going to do it tonight and then I'm skipping out.'
'Pat!' He gripped my arm. 'You mustn't. Not now. I mean-I-'
I shook off his arm, grinning at him. 'Not now,' I said. 'But later. That's it, isn't it? You do want me to kill him. Let's have the rest of it.'
'I've got nothing more to say, Pat. You'd better leave.'
I nodded and got up. And then my hand went out in a stiff-arm, and he shot backwards off of the ottoman. I dived over the coffee table and on top of him, straddling his chest.
I grabbed up a whiskey glass and struck the rim against the coffee table. Part of it fell away, and I gripped it by the base, holding the long jagged splinters above his face.
His eyes rolled, and he stopped squirming.
