I crossed to it in two big steps and snatched it up. SORRY YOU WERE NOT IN WHEN I CALLED BACK, It said, in block capitals. BUT I SAW YOU AT THE CLUB AND CAN CERTAINLY UNDERSTAND YOUR WANTING A NIGHT OUT. IT GAVE ME AN IDEA. LET’S MEET IN THE BAR THERE, TOMORROW NIGHT, AT TEN. I’D FEEL BETTER WTTH LOTS OF PEOPLE AROUND BUT NONE OF THEM LISTENING.
Damn. My first impulse was to go and tell Bill. My first thought following the impulse, though, was that there was nothing he could do except lose some sleep over it, a thing he probably needed a lot more than I did. So I folded the note and stuck it in my shirt pocket, then hung up the shirt.
Not even a nightmare to liven my slumber. I slept deeply and well, knowing Frakir would rouse me in the event of danger. In fact, I overslept, and it felt good. The morning was sunny and birds were singing.
I made my way downstairs to the kitchen after splashing and combing myself into shape and raiding Shadow for fresh slacks and a shirt. There was a note on the kitchen table. I was tired of fording notes, but this one was from Bill, saying he’d had to run into town to his office for a while and I should go ahead and help myself to anything that looked good for breakfast. He’d be back a little later.
I checked out the refrigerator and came up with some English muffins, a piece of cantaloupe and a glass of orange juice. Some coffee I’d started first thing was ready shortly after I finished, and I took a cup with me out onto the porch.
As I sat there; I began to think that maybe I ought to leave a note of my own and move on. My mysterious correspondent-conceivably S-had phoned here once and broken in once. How S had known I was here was immaterial. It was a friend’s house, and though I did not mind sharing some of my problems with friends, I did not like the idea of exposing them to danger. But then, it was daylight now and the meeting was set for this evening. Not that much longer till some sort of resolution was achieved. Almost silly to depart at this point. In fact, it was probably better that I hang around till then. I could keep an eye on things, protect Bill if anything came up today
Suddenly, I had a vision of someone forcing Bill to write that note at gunpoint, then whisking him away as a hostage to pressure me into answering questions.
I hurried back to the kitchen and phoned his office. Horace Crayper, his secretary, answered on the second ring. “Hi, this is Merle Corey,” I said. “Is Mr. Roth in?”
“Yes,” he replied, “but he’s with a client right now. Could I have him call you back?”
“No, it’s not that important,” I said, “and I’ll be seeing him later. Don’t bother him. Thanks.” I poured myself another cup of coffee and returned to the porch. This sort of thing was bad for the nerves. I decided that if everything wasn’t squared away this evening I would leave.
A figure rounded the corner of the house.
“Hi, MerIe.”
It was George Hansen. Frakir gave me the tiniest of pulses, as if beginning a warning and then reconsidering it. Ambiguous. Unusual.
“Hi, George. How’s it going?”
“Pretty well. Is Mr. Roth in?”
“Afraid not. He had to go into town for a while. I imagine he’ll be back around lunchtime or a little after.”
“Oh. A few days ago he’d asked me to stop by when I was free, about some work he wanted done.”
He came nearer, put his foot on the step. I shook my head.
“Can’t help you. He didn’t mention it to me. You’ll have to catch him later.”
He nodded, unwound his pack of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it, then rewound the pack in his shirt sleeves. This T-shirt was a Pink Floyd.
“How are you enjoying your stay?” he asked.
“Real well. You care for a cup of coffee?”