Pip left, somewhat unsteadily, and Peggy went to her afternoon class on Elizabethan drama. She forced herself to concentrate, knowing that she would have more than enough time that night to worry about the mystery of the alley, and to speculate on what troubles the second night watch might bring.
It was five-thirty and teatime at the Gramercy Arms when the troubles began.
“Your redheaded boy friend’s on the phone for you, Peggy,” Greta announced from the head of the stairs. “He sounds worried.”
Hurriedly putting down her teacup, Peggy ran from the kitchen and up to the phone in the hall.
“Randy,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so, Peggy,” he answered. “Nothing serious, but I’m afraid that Mal and I are going to be hopelessly late for our watch tonight, and unless you want to take a chance on missing whatever action might take place in the alley, Pip and Tom are going to have to cover it again. At least for the first few hours.”
“What happened?” she asked. “Where are you?”
“It’s my car,” he answered. “I had to go out to my family’s place on Long Island to get some stuff, and Mal came along for the ride. We thought we’d have plenty of time, but on the way back, the car broke down. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the trouble will take at least another hour to fix. That means that we couldn’t possibly be at the alley until about seven-thirty, and, to tell the truth, eight or nine would be more like it. Will you get hold of Pip and Tom and tell them the sad news?”
Peggy agreed, wished him good luck with the car, and hung up.
Pip’s phone didn’t answer, and after ringing for several minutes, Peggy remembered his decision to shut off the bell until midnight. She next tried the midtown hotel where Tom Galen lived, but he was not in his room, and the desk clerk had not seen him for several hours.