After nine o’clock, the damp-behind-the-ears night bellman doubled as doorman, standing just inside the entrance where he could handle both responsibilities. I winked as I went out. He blushed.
A skim of fog had moved in from the river. I drove to my office, glad to be prowling streets where I felt more at home than I did in The Canterbury. Luxury isn’t everything.
The building was quiet. Sophia and Gilead, the Negro women who cleaned, didn’t come in on weekends. Somewhere downstairs in a back room, there was a night watchman who came to life about as often as the spittoon in the lobby. Maybe he was related to the building manager.
In my office I switched on the desk lamp and changed into the clothes I’d put out that afternoon. My evening attire wasn’t quite in the class of Lily Clarke’s. Mine was men’s trousers from the thrift store, a sturdy shirt, and a workman’s jacket. Since I didn’t have diamonds, I jazzed it up with a Smith & Wesson under my jacket.
It was still too early to head out, so I sat enjoying the familiar surroundings and thinking.
Mostly I thought about Lily Clarke’s jewels.
There was no reason to think they’d be a particular target, what with a count’s wife — I guessed that made her a countess — and a couple of actresses on the guest rolls. Still, they’d be hard to resist.
I poured myself some gin, but sipping it didn’t seem to make me any smarter. At midnight I turned off the light and locked my door. Then I went to the alley where Polly Bunten had died.
* * *
I parked on the side street nearest The Canterbury’s back door. For the first quarter hour I sat in the cozy confines of my DeSoto and studied the side windows of the hotel.
They looked out on a cross street and the ground floor sills were a good eight feet above the sidewalk. A very tall man might be able to reach them with his fingertips, but he wouldn’t be able to pull himself up. As to getting out of the building, any intruder who tried to leave Tucker’s office by way of the window risked breaking an ankle. A thief could drop something from the safe out the window, wait for the coast to be clear inside, then slip out and retrieve it. A spindly hedge between the hotel wall and the sidewalk might provide a small amount of cover for a bundle waiting to be retrieved, but just enough traffic passed, on foot and by car, to make that tactic risky.
The rear of the hotel seemed a more logical way for a thief to get in and out. Or for an employee to pass something to a confederate.
Crossing the street, I stood at the mouth of the alley, just out of sight. I waited and listened. After ten minutes, I’d seen no hint of movement and heard no sound save for an occasional car in the street behind me.
I stepped into the alley. Gliding over, I tested the kitchen door to the hotel. It was locked. A weak glow trickled out from the single light left on at night. All windows on the floors above were dark.
My eyes picked out a doorway suited to my purposes. With my back against the threshold and my knees drawn up, I made myself as comfortable as I could. I turned up my collar and snugged down the tweed cap hiding my hair. I pulled out the pint of gin that would make me look like dozens of other men sleeping one off. I took a swig to warm me. Then I waited.
Nothing happened.
A pudgy man shambled his way down the alley, looking in trash cans and muttering to himself. He didn’t notice me. Around two a.m. I nodded off. All at once I came fully awake, aware of a sound.
My eyes were well adjusted to the dark around me. As they swept the area, I spotted a figure climbing stealthily up the fire escape. A man. Headed for a second story window, which now was open.
Silent as the bricks behind me, I slid to my feet. Several hours on the ground had stiffened my muscles. I flexed them as my hand crept toward my .38.
A quick glance around me showed only emptiness. I moved, darting across the alley. My foot found the first rung of the metal fire escape. I started up, eyes fixed on the figure above me.
Something whispered over my head. A metal wire circled my neck. Before I could react it bit in, jerking me backward.