The words worked like magic and the expression on her face helped. The driver slid out of his seat and slammed the door. He glanced up and down the street and Karen said: 'Pronto!' again as dramatically as she could, and then he wheeled and began to lope down the street.
People stopped to watch him and he called to them over his shoulder. While they watched him, she saw Jeff sidle out of the doorway and start in the opposite direction. Only then did she begin to breathe again and force herself to re-enter the half-light of the hall and start her climb.
She closed the office door behind her, telling herself she must not give in to the uncertainties that blotted out the excitement she had so recently felt. She had to think now, to prepare herself emotionaEy for what was to follow, to keep her poise as best she could. For she was certain that the story Jeff had told her must be true. She had seen enough of him on the plane coming to Miami to know the sort of person he was, and the things he had said last night in her room, even though he had the right to be bitter and angry with her, supported her original impression.
It helped now to realize that she was making up in part for the trick she had been forced to play on him at the Miami airport. But it was more than that and she knew it She liked him, She liked him so much she wanted to help. The simple understanding of this made her feel good all over.
She went back to the doorway of the private office and glanced in, being careful to avoid Grayson but letting her eyes move slowly around the perimeter of the room. That was how she happened to notice the shiny object on the
rug beneath the far corner of the desk. From where she stood she knew only that it was small and metallic- looking and then, moving closer and stooping to retrieve it, she saw that it had a yellow color that might have been gold. Shaped like a thimble, but having a polished rather than a dimpled surface, it resembled a tiny cup. Then, as she turned it over in her fingers, she heard the outer door open and close.
With no time to put the object in her bag, she thrust it into the front of her brassiere and started for the doorway,, expecting to find a policeman. Instead she saw a tanned, compactly built man in a cream-colored suit. His hair was a curly brown and close cut, his squarish face was hard muscled and thin at the mouth. He regarded her with narrowed unsmiling eyes as he advanced.
'Buenos tardes' he said.
'Good afternoon,' Karen said, knowing somehow that this must be Carl Webb, the man from Las Vegas.
'Oh? American?' His glance slid beyond her. 'Is Gray-son in?'
'In there,' she said with a nod of her head. 'He's dead/ 9
She heard him say: 'He's what?' as he stepped round her, and then she was following him into the office, watching him drop to one knee and make a quick inspection of the body. When he straightened he gave her a quick, hard stare and spoke one word that was profane and coldly cadenced.
His eyes busy now, he stepped to the desk and opened the attache case. When he had pawed through the contents, he began to open and close the desk drawers, all of which were empty. By the time he had finished Karen heard the noise behind her. When she turned she saw the khaki-clad city policeman. He had one hand on the butt o? his bolstered gun. Behind him came the taxi driver.
Language difficulties reduced the next few minutes to a
lesson in pantomime. Already suspicious, the policeman drew Ms heavy revolver the moment he saw the body on the floor. He began to shout in Spanish until Webb cut him short.
c< /No hdble espanolF he shouted back.
The officer glared at them and was momentarily still as he considered his predicament. Then, gesturing with the gun, he made it clear he wanted them to move to the wall behind the desk. When they complied, he made a quick inspection of the body and then spoke rapidly to the open-mouthed taxi driver. The fellow got hold of himself and said: 'Si, si,' and then he was dialing the telephone while the policeman shouted instructions and kept his eyes on his captives.
Quite oblivious of Karen, Carl Webb began to swear and the way he did it was not particularly offensive. The words were measured and distinct and spoken to himself. Not until he ran out of breath did he glance at her.
Tm sorry/' he said. 'I had to get it out of my system.' He pointed at her bag. 'You wouldn't have it in there, would you?'
T3ave what?'
'Cash. One hundred and twenty thousand bucks' worth.'
Karen, certain now that her first guess had been right, said:
TTou're Mr. Webb, aren't you?'
TBfow did you know?'
'Jeffrey Lane told me about you last night. , . . No, I don t have the cash; would you like to look?' She offered the white bag and watched Webb study it a moment, apparently estimating its size. Finally he shrugged and shook his head.
'How did the law get here?'
'I sent the taxi driver,' Karen said and explained what
she had done. *Tm Karen Holmes/' she said, 'I was supposed to see Mr. Grayson at four o'clock and I came In and-*
'I heard about you/' Webb said and for the first time gave her his attention. His glance moved openly from her legs to her face, which he inspected at some length. Apparently he liked what he saw. He gave her a small sardonic smile. 'We both got gypped, hunh?' he said. 'The only difference is—you've had it/*
'Have I?'
'You came down to get some assignment/* Webb said, 'Did you get it?'
'No/*
'And now you never will, right? I came for cash. I haven't got it but somebody has. I've still got a chance/'
He stopped as two radio policemen hurried into the office. There was a lot of excited Spanish thrown around after that until, as had happened the night before, Ramon Zumeta arrived with another detective and the doctor. Presently the uniformed branch representing the city police left and Zumeta came over to Karen to find out what happened.
She gave a carefully worded account that she had rehearsed mentally. When she finished Webb added his own story. Zumeta nodded but asked no other questions.
'You can wait in the front room if you like/' he said, and gestured to the detective, who accompanied them and then stood by while they sat down on the couch. Webb brought out a silver case, and Karen took the offered cigarette and a light. She placed her bag in her lap and leaned back, feeling now the pressure of the thimble between her breasts but not daring to squirm about and relieve that pressure.
When she saw the men come with the stretcher she closed her eyes. During the next few minutes she knew that
men were coming In and out of the office and once when she put out her cigarette she saw that the stretcher-bearers had gone with their burden. When Zumeta finally pulled a chair In front of the couch she was ready for him.
'You came to see Mr. Grayson because you had made an appointment with his secretary over the telephone/' he said. 'What time was that, Miss Holmes?'
'The appointment? At four.'
'But the call the police received did not come until four thirty.'
'Well—I may have been late getting here.'
'The man who drove you here says no/'
Oh—oh, she thought, and suddenly her apprehension was mounting and she knew this was not going to be as easy as she had imagined. Another look at Zumeta's steady dark eyes told her he would be a difficult man to fool, and now she knew she had to think—and think fast.
'Oh/' she said. 'I see what you mean.'
She gave Mm a smile that she hoped seemed confident. She asked, and answered, a lot of silent questions in an effort to bolster her courage and her wits.
She was the one who had wanted to be the private detective, wasn't she? She had bullied her father for his permission, hadn't she? She had griped about the routine dullness of her assignments? Yes, yes, yesl
