“I’m going out,” O’Brien said. “Wait up for me!”
He hurried to the garage, got the Cadillac out again and drove fast to Maddox Court.
It took him a little under ten minutes to get there, and by that time he had his story ready. He had to convince Gilda that he had nothing to do with Johnny’s death. He had told her he had seen him off in a plane for Paris. Very well then: the plane had returned with engine trouble and Johnny had left it. That’s the best he could do. She would be too upset by Johnny’s death to question the story.
The night clerk, who knew O’Brien well, hurried to open the elevator doors as O’Brien crossed the lobby.
“Miss Dorman is in, sir,” he said.
O’Brien grunted, got into the elevator and was whisked to the top floor.
The poor kid would be in bed and asleep, he thought as he crossed the passage to her front door. This was going to be a hell of a shock for her.
He rang the bell.
There was a pause, then Gilda called through the door, “Who is it?”
“Sean. Let me in, kid.”