Benny came back, looking blank. “The porter guy says Mendetta hasn’t left the building.”
Jay put his thumb on the bell and kept it there. They stood listening to the angry whirr of the bell for several minutes. Then Jay made up his mind. “I’m goin’ in,” he said.
“You can’t do that. Maybe he’s asleep.”
Jay looked at him. “I’m chancin’ that,” he said shortly. “Somehow, I feel there’s somethin’ wrong in there.”
He once more probed with his instrument and a moment later the lock slid back with a little snick. Gently, he eased the door back and looked into the hall. Then he stepped in softly and entered the first room he came to.
He stood looking at Mendetta sprawled out on the floor. His big head rested in a pool of blood. Over the other side of the room Jean lay, one leg drawn up and her arms flung wide. Jean wasn’t very nice to look at.
Jay caught his breath. Here was his front page murder. He spun on his heel and nearly collided with Benny, who had come in.
“My God!” Benny said, going suddenly very green.
Jay pushed him out into the corridor. “Keep your shirt on,” he said roughly. “Go into your apartment and get some drinks lined up.”
Benny went away hurriedly, and Jay carefully closed the apartment door. He followed Benny and grabbed the telephone. “Listen,” he said, as he hastily dialled a number, “there’s goin’ to be a riot in a little while. Did your wife know Mendetta?”