Read Online Rex Stout by The Mountain Cat - Free Book Online

liked to drive. Her father had taught her and she was good at it. The dashboard clock said 9:50 as she entered the residential section. She considered telephoning home, or going by way of Vulcan Street to stop at the house, but the route there would take her within two blocks of the Jackson address—and besides, when she saw or spoke to Clara she wanted to be able to announce an accomplished fact. So when she got to Blacktail Avenue she turned left and in another minute rolled to a stop at the curb in front of number 342.
    She unfastened three buttons of her dress, retrieved the note from where she had pinned it and buttoned up again. Then she switched off the lights, climbed out and started up the path toward the door of the house; but came to a stop as the rays of headlights swept across her and a car turned into the driveway, scrunching the gravel, and halting opposite her. She heard the car door opening and a voice called:
    “Hello, that you, Jean?”
    “No! It’s me, Delia Brand!”
    “Oh!” A dark blotch that was a wrap and a white spot that was a face approached across the lawn. “Surprise party?”
    “I came to see your husband.”
    “Then I’m afraid the surprise is on you. He’s not home. He’s down at the office.”
    Delia glanced at the house.
    “I know,” said Amy Jackson, born Sammis. “The lights are on. I always leave them on when I go out after dark. I’ve only been gone a few minutes, ran downtown to get something.”
    “Are you sure he’s at the office?” That was tactless, Delia knew as she said it, but it was out.
    “Yes, I—yes, that’s where he said he was going.”
    “Much obliged. I guess I’ll drive down there. I just want to see him about something.”
    She returned to the car, clutching the note in her hand, got in, and drove to Halley Street.
    There was as little space for parking in front of the old Sammis Building as there had been in the afternoon; even less, for Delia was forced to go nearly to the next corner. She walked back. The sidewalk there was well lit and well populated, for The Haven was one of the centers of the town’s strange night life. Salesgirls and garage employees could and did bet a dime on the even at the roulette wheel, but Mortimer Cullen of Chicago had once dropped eighty thousand dollars at faro in five hours.
    Delia had never been inside The Haven. She gave its bright windows only a passing glance as she went on to the door admitting to the stairway. The stairs themselves were quite dim, but, mounting, she found that the upper hall, with an electric bulb glowing, wasbetter lit than in the daytime. On the door which said
Sammis & Jackson
the glass panel looked dark, with no light behind it, but she tried it anyway, found it unlocked and pushed it open. With the note in her hand she felt armed with authority, so she flipped the light switch. The door leading to Jackson’s room was closed, and she went and knocked on it. Silence. She knocked again and called his name, but got no response, so she opened that door too. The room was dark, as the front one had been. She wasn’t familiar with that light switch, but soon found it and turned it on. Then, after one glance, she jerked her head up and stiffened, and stood not breathing, and neither Ty Dillon nor anyone could have accused her of mimicry of movie stars as she held the pose.
    A man was in the chair behind the desk, but not in any of the approved, or even disapproved, positions. It was as if he had bent far over to reach something on the floor, got hung on the arm, and whimsically stayed there.
    Delia’s nerves were already quivering, had been for some time, and her impulse, after the first shock into rigidity, was to turn and flee screaming down the stairs. Doubtless she would have done that had not the familiarity of an object on the desk demanded, and got, her attention as her eyes began their movement away from the man in the chair. It lay near the edge of the desk closest to her, and she