We craned our necks as we went by the Gulfpride Apartments. Quite a few cars were still in front of the place. A little group of men was standing on the sidewalk, heads close together, talking.
That gave Hale the opportunity he wanted. He sucked in a deep breath, said, “Lam, I’m going back to New York. I’m going to leave you in charge here.”
I said, “You’d better get a room, hole up, and get some sleep. You can’t keep commuting back and forth to New York all the time.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t rest much.”
I said, “That apartment Bertha Cool just vacated is wide open. You can move in there and go to sleep. It won’t be like a hotel. There won’t be anyone to disturb you. You can simply lock your door and pass out.”
I could see that the idea appealed to him.
“What’s more,” I said, “you’ll find that apartment interesting for another reason. Roberta Fenn lived there for several months. She was then going under the name of Edna Cutler.”
That brought him bolt upright. His eyes, red-rimmed, slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep, were wide with startled interest. “Is that how you found her?”
“I got some clues there, yes.”
He seemed a bit worried. “It’s uncanny how you find things out. Lam. You’re a regular owl.”