“Might as well,” Mason said.
Chapter 11
The drizzle had developed into a cold drenching rain when Mason and the detective emerged from a cab in front of the Wavecrest Apartments.
“Do you do the talking,” Drake asked, “or do I?”
“I do,” Mason said.
“Going to throw a scare into her or take it easy?” Drake inquired.
“Take it easy if she’ll let me,” Mason told him, his eyes exploring the index of tenants on the front of the building. He found the name: MARIAN WHITING opposite Apartment 1329 and pressed the button. A moment later an electric buzzer released the catch on the door, and Drake said, “Well, there’s a good index to her character. She’s on the up-and-up. If she’d been two-timing anybody, she’d have made whistles up and down the speaking tube.”
Mason nodded. They took the elevator to the thirteenth floor, found the apartment they wanted, and tapped on the door. The woman who opened it had alert brown eyes, dark chestnut hair, a slightly upturned nose and delicate lips. She was wearing black and orange lounging pajamas. Sandals on her feet showed red painted nails.
“Yes?” she asked. “What is it?”
“I want to talk with you,” Mason said.