I gently closed my fingers about the doorknob, pushed it in my hand, and held it.
For almost a minute there was silence from the inside of the room; then I heard voices. The voices came nearer to the door.
Edna Cutler said, “Why, that mug! I thought it was just a bluff. I’ll bet he did shut our lights off.”
I heard the sound of a bolt on the other side of the door.
I didn’t wait for anything else. I gave the door the shoulder, and felt it strike against something yielding as it came open.
The room was dark, but enough light came in through the open windows from a red neon sign on the corner to bathe objects in a peculiar indistinct ruby-colored illumination.
Edna Cutler had been thrown off balance by the opening door. She was just getting her balance. She had on a pair of shorts and a bra. Back in the far corner of the apartment was another indistinct figure. When I heard her exclamation, I knew that it was Roberta Fenn.
I said to Roberta, “I told you not to get in touch with Edna.”
“I — you don’t understand, Donald. I had to get in touch with her.”
Edna Cutler said, “My God, is this that detective again?”