The girl said, “To Madam Lacey’s house.”
Raven hung up and immediately rang Madam Lacey’s. A hard voice answered him. It was a man’s voice he couldn’t place. He asked for Grantham.
“Who are you?” the voice snapped.
Raven sensed that it was a cop. He felt cold sweat suddenly break out under his arms. “Tell him it’s Fleming,” he said; “I want to talk to him.”
“He’s busy right now,” the voice said. “Suppose you come down.”
“I’ll be right along,” Raven said, and hung up. There was something wrong. He rang up Maltz.
“Go over to the hotel and sniff around,” he said, after explaining what had happened. “Don’t give yourself away. Just poke around quietly and meet me at Franky’s in an hour’s time.”
Maltz said he would.
Raven came out of the phone−box and lit a cigarette. He hailed a taxi and gave Madam Lacey’s address. “I want you to cruise past the joint slowly, but you’re not to stop.”
The taxi−driver said he’d do that and set the cab rolling. They reached the house in a few minutes, and Raven could see something was wrong. There were two police cars and an ambulance standing outside. A policeman stood at the door frowning at the large collection of people standing staring.