Street lights blinked on as Penny and Jerry reached the corner of Fulton and Cherry Streets, in the poorer section of Riverview.
“That must be the building,” the reporter said, indicating an old, discolored brick building with a faded sign which proclaimed it a cheap rooming house of the type patronized by those who could afford only a few cents for a bed.
They crossed the street. Penny’s courage faltered as she saw that they must climb a long, dark stairway. Dust was very thick; the air inside was stuffy.
“You still can change your mind, you know,” said Jerry. “Why not wait outside, while I go up?”
Penny shook her head.
Climbing the stairs, they entered an open space from which branched narrow corridors. The landing was even dirtier and darker than the stairway, with a huge pasteboard carton standing in a corner filled with empty bottles.
In a little office room, behind a cage window, sat a plump middle-aged woman with reddish frizzled hair. She eyed the pair suspiciously. To her experienced eye, their manner and clothing immediately stamped them as “outsiders,” perhaps investigators. She smiled ingratiatingly at Jerry.
“We’re looking for a man,” he said briefly.
“You’re from the police, ain’t you?” she demanded. “We got nothin’ to hide. My husband and me run a respectable place for poor workin’ men.”
“May we see your room register?”