The knife was a thing of beauty, about six inches long, with a sharp pointed end and serrated edges.
“Will this do?”
“I’m sure it will,” Hal Baker said.
“Will that be cash or charge?”
“Cash.”
His next stop was at a stationery store.
Hal Baker studied the apartment building at 1425 Metcalf Avenue for five minutes, examining exits and entrances. He left and returned at eight P.M., when it began to get dark. He wanted to make sure that if Julia Stanford had a job, she would be home from work. He had noted that the apartment building had no doorman. There was an elevator, but he took the stairs. It was not smart to be in small enclosed places. They were traps. He reached the third floor. Apartment 3B was down the hall on the left. The knife was taped to the inside pocket of his jacket. He rang the doorbell. A moment later, the door opened, and he found himself facing an attractive woman.
“Hello.” She had a nice smile. “Can I help you?”
She was younger than he had expected, and he wondered fleetingly why Judge Stanford wanted her killed. Well, that’s none of my business. He took out a card and handed it to her.
“I’m with the A. C. Nielsen Company,” he said smoothly. “We don’t have any of the Nielsen family in this area, and we’re looking for people who might be interested.”
She shook her head. “No, thanks.” She started to close the door.
“We pay one hundred dollars a week.”
The door stayed half open.
“A hundred dollars a week?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The door was wide open now.
“All you have to do is record the names of the programs you watch. We’ll give you a contract for one year.”
Five thousand dollars! “Come in,” she said.
He walked into the apartment.
“Sit down, Mr.—”
“Allen. Jim Allen.”
“Mr. Allen. How did you happen to select me?”
“Our company does random checking. We have to make sure that none of the people is involved in television in any way, so we can keep our survey accurate. You don’t have any connection with any television production programs or networks, do you?”
She laughed. “Gosh, no. What would I have to do exactly?”
“It’s really very simple. We’ll give you a chart with all the television programs listed on it, and all you have to do is make a check mark every time you watch a program. That way our computer can figure out how many viewers each program has. The Nielsen family is scattered around the United States, so we get a clear picture of which shows are popular in which areas and with whom. Would you be interested?”
“Oh, yes.”
He took out some printed forms and a pen. “How many hours a day do you watch television?”
“Not very many. I work all day.”
“But you do watch some television?”
“Oh, certainly. I watch the news at night, and sometimes an old movie. I like Larry King.”
He made a note. “Do you watch much educational television?”
“I watch PBS on Sundays.”
“By the way, do you live alone here?”
“I have a roommate, but she’s not here.”
So they were alone.
His hand began to itch. He started to reach into his inside pocket to untape the knife. He heard footsteps in the hall outside. He stopped.
“Did you say I get five thousand dollars a year just for doing this?”
“That’s right. Oh, I forgot to mention. We also give you a new color TV set.”
“That’s fantastic!”
The footsteps were gone. He reached inside his pocket again and felt the handle of the knife. “Could I have a glass of water, please? It’s been a long day.”
“Certainly.” He watched her get up and go over to the small bar in the corner. He slipped the knife out of its sheath and moved up behind her.
She was saying, “My roommate watches PBS more than I do.”
He lifted the knife, ready to strike.
“But Julia’s more intellectual than I am.”
Baker’s hand froze in midair. “Julia?”
“My roommate. Or she was. She’s gone. I found a note when I got home saying she had left and didn’t know when she’d be…” She turned around, holding the glass of water, and saw the upraised knife in his hand. “What…?”