I went down fast pulling up at each storey level in case anyone was around. By the time I hit bottom I was reminding myself to cut down on the cigarets. There was nobody in the dim-lit entrance and I made good time out to where I’d parked the heap. I got inside and sat watching for a moment. The window through which I’d seen Flower was at the rear of the building, so all the excitement would be back there. My head gave me a twinge, reminding me that I’d been luckier than the girl. Wondered too, why I hadn’t followed her through the window. I’d have been in no position to put up much of an argument about it. Still, here I was, and if I wanted to stay out of jail I’d better be moving. What I wanted was to go home and do something about my head, like maybe pour half a bottle of scotch inside it, but there was no time for such indulgences. Instead I drove out to the Beach End again.
Waves lapped softly against the silent sands as I passed along the now deserted beach road. Even the waves had to show a little respect down there. Other coarser sections of the coast might get breakers and such, but here everything was orderly, straight out of your travel magazine. The driveway to the Somerset house was brilliantly lit, but the house itself was in darkness. But that didn’t have to mean it was empty. There could be some action around back. I walked quietly around to where Flower had made such a spectacular entrance that afternoon. The wide glass doors stood open and although there was no light, music flowed softly out into the night.
I peered into the gloom but couldn’t seen anything. On an impulse I stepped inside and the darkness was total.
“You’re late.”
It was Somerset’s voice and it seemed to come from where I judged that long couch of his to be.
“Sorry,” I replied. “I didn’t realize I was expected.”
“What the devil——”
A light snapped on and there he was again, still flat on his back. Only this time he wore a glaring purple shirt and bermuda shorts. And that wasn’t all. In his hand was a very large black .44 revolver, pointed unwinkingly at me.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” he demanded.
The words were more threatening than the voice. Instead he sounded somehow worried.
“Got some news for you,” I told him. “Would you mind putting that thing down?”
“Not until I know what you’re doing here. You come sneaking into my house in the middle of the night——”
“It’s only just after ten o’clock,” I corrected. “Will you put it down? Those things go off, you know.”
He gave a short barking laugh.
“That is precisely what it is intended for,” he assured me. “We get a lot of you burglars around this area.”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous.”
I sat down, acting a lot calmer than I felt. He said uncertainly,
“You said you had something to tell me.”
“You and Flower. Where is she, by the way?”
“How do I know, I’m not her keeper.”
I looked at him and grinned.
“You could have fooled me.”
He waggled the gun, then snorted and laid it on the floor beside him.
“Not that I can’t reach it if I have to,” he warned.
“You won’t need it. Who are we expecting, anyway?”
“That’s none of your business. Say what you have to say and please go away.”
“O.K. Get Flower in here.”
His face grew dark with bottled impatience.
“She isn’t here. I don’t own the girl, she comes and goes as she pleases. Tonight she pleases to be elsewhere. Do you understand?”
“And you don’t know where?”
“I haven’t the remotest idea. And if I had, I doubt whether I’d tell you.”
We stared at each other with quiet hostility.
“Before I give you this fascinating news of mine, tell me one thing. Flower, is she some kind of dancer?”
“I don’t see why I should tell you anything at all. But, if you must know, yes.”
“Ah. And where were you an hour ago, Mr. Somerset? I telephoned here and got no answer.”
“Then you must have dialled the wrong number. There’s only been one telephone call here the whole evening, and I answered that.”
“Haven’t been out, huh? Can you prove it?”
He frowned.
“Prove it?” he repeated. “No, I shouldn’t think so. And I don’t have to prove things to you. You can believe them or not believe them. It’s a matter of supreme indifference to me.”
“Yup, that’s right. You don’t have to prove a thing to me. Cops might take a different view though. They can be awful nasty.”
He sighed and rubbed absently at the fleshy chest.
“And why should the police be interested?”
“Because of Flower. Somebody just killed her downtown.”
He sat upright and the heavy eyes bored into me.
“You’re lying,” he said thickly.
“If you say so.”
He sat quite still, then very slowly the bearded head wagged from side to side.
“It can’t be true. Who told you this?”
“Nobody. I saw it.”
“And there’s no mistake.”
It wasn’t a question. The words were flat and monotonous.
“I think I’m going to need a drink.”
For such a huge man he was very light on his feet as he moved across the room to the bar. He poured himself a great deal of vodka and drank it straight. Then he turned back to me, glass in hand.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“It was outside Brookman’s apartment. Did you know where he lived?”
He shook his head.
“Place called the Monteray Building. It isn’t the Beach End, but it’s a little better than Conquest Street. Brook-man lived on the eighth floor. Flower knew where he lived all right. Because somebody opened a window on that eighth floor
