“It was a kitten Connor-or Morton-sent in, wasn't it?”
Jeff's eyes widened. “A white Persian!”
“Sure. It was supposed to be this one. It came to me while I was listenin' to Connor bellow outside. I intercepted Sassy here one step short of her being turned over to Connor's partner. She was earmarked for here. When the delivery broke down they had to get a replacement.”
Jeff Landry ran a finger lightly across the front of the wire mesh, and Sassy's pink nose followed it interestedly. “Eight lives left, little one. You don't look worried. Johnny, she has a gold lifetime pass around this place, and I hope she never needs it.” He put out his hand, and Johnny took it.
“Glad it worked out, Jeff.”
“So am I, Johnny. So am I.”
On the street Johnny was surprised to find a light rain falling. He walked up to the corner and caught a westbound cab just when he began to think he was going to have to start walking. In the cab he ran up the windows and took Sassy out of her carrying case. She seemed delighted to see him; she frisked around his feet on the floor and made several brisk, stinging sorties up his shins and thighs. He had difficulty getting her back in the case when they reached the hotel.
He walked down the alley and in through the subbasement entrance and rang for the service elevator. While waiting he removed his shirt and draped it over the black plastic case. When the elevator door opened Johnny got aboard, and Charlie, a wizened gnome with a facial tic who operated the service elevator on the middle shift, nodded grudgingly. He glanced at the shirt-covered case in Johnny's hand as the elevator started up. “What'cha got there, John?”
“King cobra. Take a look?”
“Pass. Knowin' you, it could be.”
They rode in silence to the sixth floor, and in his own room Johnny unlatched the drop-down front of the case. Sassy crept out cautiously, took a long look around and with tail aloft and four white paws twinkling galloped to the refrigerator, where she crouched expectantly. Johnny smiled, then remembered the diet list. He slapped his pockets experimentally, pulled it out and studied it. He glanced down at the vigilant kitten. “I got a feelin' you're not gonna approve of this, baby doll.”
He took down two of Sassy's saucers and fixed one of milk and one of water. With one eye cocked sideways at him from above the newspaper he spread, Sassy took a dozen halfhearted laps at the milk, and then sat back on her haunches and looked at him reproachfully.
“The man says liquids for another twenty-four hours,” Johnny apologized to her. “Then lean meat, and not too much of it.”
The kitten wrinkled her nose at the proposal; when she saw that nothing else was to be forthcoming she returned to the milk. Johnny watched her for a moment, then stripped the bed. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out with a sigh. He tried to blank out his mind; he could use a little sleep.
On the floor below him Sassy came back into his line of vision, walking toward him with her short, mincing steps. With no visible effort she floated upward and landed on the bed beside him, settled down in the circle of his arm and curled herself up into a tight little ball. From the small body there came a deep, purring sound; Johnny lifted his head from the pillow to look down at her. “Shut off your motor, white stuff.” He dropped back to the pillow-and oblivion.
The telephone jarred him awake; he grabbed at it. “Yeah?”
“Eleven-thirty, Johnny.”
“Thanks, Edna.” He yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes. He had slept either too long or not long enough. He couldn't wake up. He sat up on the edge of the bed finally, then reluctantly propelled himself into the shower. The cold water helped; on the way down to the lobby he tried to recall when he had eaten last. His backbone and ribs felt too close together.
He walked on out through the foyer to the street; Forty-fifth Street's neon complement of lights glowed mistily in the rain that was now a steady downpour. He had a double order of ham and eggs and three cups of black coffee at the greasy spoon four doors up the street, and he felt almost awake when he returned to the lobby.
Marty Seiden waved at him from the front desk, and Johnny returned the wave and then pulled up short. He walked over to the desk, and Marty looked up at him expectantly. “I hear you got a letch for the blonde on the balcony, kid.”
Marty's grin was sheepish. “It makes me unusual?”
“It puts you in bad company.” Johnny studied the unease in the sharp features under the red hair. “I'll lay it on the line, Marty. You been puttin' out information on guests in the hotel to the blonde, for services rendered, maybe?” The boy tugged self-consciously at his bow tie. “Just put this in your peace pipe, kid-there's gonna be a big, loud noise up on that balcony shortly. Are you covered?”
Marty Seiden swallowed. “I will be. And thanks.”
Johnny nodded, and turned away from the desk. At the bell captain's desk Paul was glumly studying the log. “Middle shift had only seven check-ins since six o'clock.”
“Better'n we'll do, if this rain keeps up,” Johnny predicted. “Damn these quiet nights, anyway. I can't stay awake. If you see Mike Larsen come in, Paul, tell him to see me before he goes upstairs.”
He hadn't had a chance yet to check with Mike on the folder of carbons he had taken away from Mavis Delaroche. Mike would probably know whether it was more likely to be a part of Russo's over-all operation or whether the blonde was in business for herself unknown to Russo.
Paul tapped him on the arm. “Lend me your key to Chet's office. Marty needs transcript sheets.”
“I'll run up myself. If I don't keep movin', I'll fall over sideways.” Johnny dug out his keys, detoured to the switch box and turned out the main overhead lights in the lobby, and in the familiar gloom climbed the stairs to the mezzanine. There was a light on in the public stenographer's office which went out even as he looked, and the door opened. Ed Russo walked out of the office, accompanied by a tall blonde; for an instant Johnny thought it was Mavis, and then he saw that this woman was older. Attractive, if you liked the lean, greyhound type. She had the lacquered look of money.
On impulse Johnny stepped into the curtained circular lounge; he was not hidden if anyone looked in there, but he was not out in plain sight, either.
Ed Russo closed the door of his office and shifted a package under his arm as he fumbled for his key. “Take mine, Ed,” the woman said. Her voice was low, but crisp. She removed a key from her bag and handed it to him. “Thanks for taking this trouble for me on such short notice.”
“No trouble, Mrs. Sanders.” Ed Russo tried the locked door and handed her back the key. “All part of the day's work. I'm only sorry the other news tonight couldn't have been a little better.” He led the way toward the stairs.
So this was the widow Sanders; Johnny craned to see better but they were moving away from him. Johnny found it interesting that the widow Sanders not only was on a first name basis with Ed Russo, but actually had a key to his office.
When the descending heads on the stairs passed below floor level he went into action. He ran back across the mezzanine to Chet Rollins' office, opened it hurriedly, grabbed up a handful of transcript sheets and ran back downstairs to the lobby. He slapped the sheets down on the registration desk in front of Marty Seiden and sprinted out to the foyer. As he had hoped, Russo and the widow were still in sight, on the sidewalk under the marquee; as he looked the woman raised her umbrella, and the pair turned left and started toward Seventh Avenue.
Johnny shot into the checkroom behind the bell captain's desk and snatched a raincoat from a hook. From the looks of it it wouldn't shed much rain, but it would cover the uniform. Paul stepped off the nearer elevator as Johnny emerged from the checkroom, and he pointed to the raincoat. “Back in a few minutes, Paul.”
He dashed out to the street and breathed more freely when he saw the umbrella two-thirds of the way toward the avenue. He hadn't lost them. He crossed the street at a trot and took up the chase from the other side, settling down to a long stride that gained rapidly for him.