I looked at my wrist watch. It was quarter past five.
“What’s happened?”
“I found where she lived. I kept ringing her bell. Nothing happened.”
“She sleeps late,” I said. “Works in a night spot.”
“I know. Well, after a while, I rang the bell marked Manager and asked where I could find Miss Harris.”
“Go ahead.”
“The manager said she didn’t know, that she didn’t try to chaperon her tenants, and seemed very crusty.
“I asked if I might run up to her apartment, and she said I could, that it was 309.
“I went up to the third floor in the elevator. As I started down the hall, a man came out of a room at the far end of the corridor. I don’t know — I think it was 309.”
“That’s probably why she didn’t answer the doorbell.”