Comes the Dark Stranger - Jack Higgins [38]
He waited in an agony of impatience, and when her voice sounded clearly over the wire he slumped against the side of the booth in relief. ‘Martin Shane here,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to see you, Jenny.’
There was immediate anxiety in her voice. ‘What’s happened? Is everything all right?’
He tried to sound unconcerned. ‘Nothing serious. As a matter of fact I’m in a bit of a jam and I was wondering if you could help. I need somewhere to stay for a couple of days.’
She chuckled. ‘If that’s all that’s worrying you, don’t give it a second thought. You can stay at my place.’
‘That’s grand,’ he said. ‘But how do I get in?’
Someone shouted something to her, and he could hear music start up in the background. She said hastily, ‘I’ve got a show now. I’ll have to go. There’s a spare key under the carpet outside the front door. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get there as soon as I can.’
She murmured a hurried good-bye and replaced the receiver. Suddenly Shane felt tired - really tired all the way through, and he quickly phoned for a cab and waited for it outside the booth, taking deep breaths of the rain-washed air to steady himself.
When the cab came he gave the driver Jenny’s address and slumped back against the cushioned seat. The journey took only ten minutes, and he paid off the driver quickly and hurried up the path to the house.
He found the key under the carpet as she had said, and in a moment was in the quiet safety of the flat. He dropped his canvas grip on to the floor, and went into the kitchen. He found a bottle of cooking sherry in a cupboard, and swallowed a large glassful, wretching at the bitter taste, and then he went into the bedroom.
The pain in his head was worse - much worse. He took two more pills and lay on the bed, a pillow behind his head.
He started to go over the events of the past few days, but they didn’t seem to have any connexion or fit together into a comprehensible pattern. He had an uneasy feeling that he had overlooked a vital point. Something which would make sense of the whole business. He was still thinking about it as he drifted into sleep.
When he awoke it was quite dark. The pain in his head had gone, and he lay on the bed for a few moments, staring at the pale oblong of the window, before swinging his legs down to the floor.
He opened the door and went into the living-room. At that moment Jenny emerged from the kitchen, a tray in her hands. When she saw him she smiled gaily. ‘I was just going to call you.’
Shane ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his watch. It was almost seven o'clock and he swore softly. ‘I didn’t realize it was so late.’
She passed him a cup of coffee. ‘Whatever you’ve got to do can wait.’
He shook his head firmly. ‘I’m afraid it can’t. What time does Steele usually visit Club Eight?’
She frowned. ‘Seven o'clock. Sometimes a little later. Why?’
He ignored her question. ‘How long does he stay there?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t really know - perhaps an hour. He checks the previous night’s receipts with the manager.’
Shane glanced at his watch and nodded in satisfaction. ‘That gives me all the time in the world.’ He went into the bedroom and got his coat.
When he returned she was pacing nervously up and down in front of the fire-place, a cigarette between her fingers. She turned sharply and there was anxiety on her face. ‘I’ve minded my own business up to now, Martin,’ she said. ‘But you’ve got me worried. What are you up to?’
He slipped an arm about her waist and kissed her on the mouth. He moved to the door. ‘With any luck I should be back before you leave for the show.’ She took one quick step towards him, but the door closed and he was gone before she could protest.
When he arrived at the Garland Club there were still faint traces of fog in the air and a steady rain hammered into the pavement. There was a light in the foyer, and as he walked past he saw the doorman busily mopping the floor.
It was quiet in the alley at the side of the building, and he opened the