“No.”
The photographer said, “Ring the manager, Pete.”
They rang the manager’s button. When nothing happened, the reporter started pushing buttons at random. After a while they got a customer, and the door buzzed open. They walked on in and Bertha Cool and I tagged along behind them.
“What’s the apartment number?” the photographer asked.
The reporter said 309.
I felt Bertha Cool’s eyes on me. I nudged her and said in an undertone, “Hear that?”
She said, “Uh-huh.”
The four of us got in the elevator. Bertha Cool took up most of the room. The elevator rattled upward.
The third floor was pretty well filled with people. An officer stopped the reporter. The reporter showed him a press card and he and the photographer went on past. The officer pushed his way up to me. “What do you want?” he asked.
I stood staring curiously and said, “Nothing.”