I didn’t want Barratt to know I was about to call on him. It would be quite bad enough without him being on his guard. I took out my bill-fold and hoisted up a five-dollar bill. The fat bouncer’s eyes fastened on it, and a tongue like the toe of on old boot searched amongst the jungle of his moustache. I pushed the bill at him.
Fat, nicotine-stained fingers closed over it: a reflex action born of years of experience.
‘I’ll just take the ride,’ I said, and showed him more of my teeth: those capped in gold.
‘Don’t take too long about it,’ he growled, ‘and don’t think this buys you anything. I just haven’t seen you."
He plodded back to his pillar again, then paused to scowl at the girl behind the desk, who had stopped reading the funnies and was watching him with a set smile on her foxy little face. As I closed the elevator door he was on his way over to her, probably to share the swag.
I rode up to the fourth floor and walked down a long passage studded with doors. Barratt’s apartment was No. 4BI5. I found it around the corner: an isolated door at the end of a dim culde-sac. The radio was blaring, and as I raised my hand to ring the bell, there came a sudden crash of breaking glass.
I dug my thumb into the bell push and waited. Strident jazz howled at me through the door panels, but no one bothered to answer the door. I sank my thumb into the bell-push again and leaned my weight against it. I could hear the bell ringing above the shrill notes of a clarinet. Then suddenly someone snapped off the radio and jerked open the door.
A tall, blond man in a scarlet dressing-room stood in the doorway, smiling at me. His lean, white face was handsome if you like the profile type. A moustache, the size of a well-fed caterpillar, graced his upper lip. The pupils of his amber-coloured eyes were as big as dimes.
‘Hello,’ he said in a low, drawling voice, ‘was that you ringing?’
‘If it wasn’t me, then the place is haunted,’ I said, watching him. From the look of his eyes, he was full of reefer smoke, and I had an idea he needed watching.