Adams heard her thin wailing scream as she went down into the darkness, and the thud of her body as it struck the sidewalk, sixteen stories below.
He lifted his shoulders, walked quickly back into the sitting-room, ignoring Ken, who still sat with his head in his hands, and called headquarters on the telephone.
“Get an ambulance and a squad to 45 Maddox Court, fast,” he said into the mouthpiece, “and when I say fast, I mean fast!”
He dropped the receiver back on to its cradle, went over to Ken and jerked him to his feet.
“Get the hell out of here! Don’t you want to go home?”
Ken stared blankly at him.
“Go on, beat it!” Adams said. “You’re in the clear. Keep your mouth shut and you won’t hear anything more about it. Go on, get the hell out of it!”
Too shocked to speak, Ken went unsteadily to the door.
“Hey!” Adams said, pointing to the Pekinese who had taken refuge under the sideboard. “How about this dog? Wouldn’t you like to give it a home?”
Ken looked at the dog in horror.