“Hear that?” he said, clutching my arm.
“Come on,” I said, and started forward.
Brodey’s house was big, and it stood back from the street. . The garden was full of palms and tropical shrubs. It was difficult to see much of the house from where we were.
As we approached the front gates, which stood open, we heard the car coming down the drive. We ducked back into the shadows. The brown Plymouth sedan shot into the street, belted away. It was out of sight before we got over our surprise.
I had caught a glimpse of a man who was driving, but I couldn’t see much of him. The car was fitted with curtains which happened to billow out as the car passed me. That was how I saw the man; Davis didn’t see him at all.
“Looks bad for Brodey,” I said, and began to run up the drive.
Davis panted along behind me. “Think he’s been knocked off ?” he groaned.
“Looks like it, doesn’t it?” I said. “Same car. Same hurry to get away. They’re after something pretty important.”
A turn in the drive brought us to a big Spanish house that was in darkness.
“If they’ve killed Brodey, there’ll be a hell of a stink,” Davis gasped, following me up the steps.