Not Quite Dead Enough (The Rex Stout Library)

I went noiselessly to the door to the hall and eased it open. The one to the kitchen was shut, and sounds came from beyond it. I beckoned to Lily and when she joined me whispered in her ear, “Fast and silent. Understand?” and tiptoed to the front door and got it open without a sound. Lily slipped through and me after her, I shut the door with only a faint click, and we went down the steps to the sidewalk and turned east. She had to trot to keep up. When we reached the avenue and turned the corner I got her into a doorway.

“Now. Was anyone standing around the entrance when you went in?”

“Standing around? No. But what-”

“Don’t talk. I’m busy. You’re noticeable. Did anyone notice you going in or coming out?”

“I don’t think so. If they did I didn’t notice them.”

“Okay. I’m leaving you. Here’s your program. Go some place out of town, not far, Long Island or Westchester. Leave a note for me at the Ritz telling me where, but don’t tell anyone else. I-”

“You mean go now?”

“Right now. Pack a bag and go. Within an hour.”

“You go to hell.” She had my arm in both hands. “You darned nut, didn’t I run to you in my hour of need? I’m going to have a drink, several drinks, and you’re going to have some with me. What do you think I-”

I tried to bull it through, but nothing doing. She balked good, and time was precious. So I said, “Listen, angel. I’ve got a job to do and you’ve got to help. I haven’t time to explain it. Do as I say, and I’ll get a week-end leave Saturday and you can write your ticket, anything short of rowing on the lake in Central Park.”

“This coming Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“An absolutely unqualified promise?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“Gentlemen prefer blondes. Kiss me good-by.”

I made it a quick one, dashed across the sidewalk to a taxi, and told the driver corner of Barnum and Christopher, and step on it. My watch said 6:15. Roy had 13 minutes start on me.

Chapter 7

On account of Roy Douglas, there was a mighty slim hope of being able to fill in my sketch, but when I jumped from the cab at the corner and hotfooted it for Number 316 and saw there was no sign of anything unusual, the chances looked slightly better. The odds against me were still about 20 to 1. If anyone else, including Roy, had beat me to it and called the cops or a doctor or even the neighbors, or if grandma had come home early, or if 17 other things, my plan was a washout.