Page 73 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“Probably,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 31

The first clue that she had other problems in addition to getting fired came when she inserted her key into the lock on her apartment door.

Nothing happened.

“Wrong key?” Oliver suggested.

Irene looked at the key she was holding. “No, this is the right one.”

They were standing in the hall outside her apartment. She was very conscious of the general gloom that seemed to infuse the slightly shabby, two-story building. The contrast between it and the warm, gracious architecture of the Burning Cove Hotel was impossible to ignore.

Oliver studied the lock. “Looks new.”

“Of course, that explains it,” Irene said. Relief flashed through her. “The burglar must have broken the lock when he forced his way into my apartment. Mrs. Drysdale, my landlady, replaced it. I’ll go downstairs and let her know I’m back and that I need the new key.”

“I’ll come with you,” Oliver said.

She had started down the hall, but at that she stopped and turned around. “No need for you to go down those stairs twice.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said again. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“We’re wasting time, Irene.”

“Right.”

She was very conscious of Oliver making his way down the stairs behind her. His cane thudded on each step. She heard the hitch in his stride. He never said a word, but she knew that the descent must have been painful for him, considering what he had gone through in recent days.

When she reached the first floor, she went along another dingy hallway and knocked on Norma Drysdale’s door.

“Hold your horses,” Norma yelled in the harsh, hoarse voice of a lifelong smoker. “I’m coming.”

The door swung open. Norma appeared, wearing a faded housedress and an invisible cloak of stale smoke. Her bleached hair was set in tight marcel waves, a style that had been the height of fashion until recently but that now, thanks to stars like Ginger Rogers and Katharine Hepburn, had a decidedly dated look.

Norma peered at Irene as though trying to recall her name.

“Oh, it’s you,” she rasped. “Wondered when you’d show up. I was getting ready to sell your things. Figured I’d give you a week to collect ’em.”

“What?”It took Irene a couple of seconds to gather her wits. “But I’m current on my rent.”

Norma’s expression softened fractionally. “Sorry, but you’re trouble, honey, and I don’t need any more of that particular commodity. Got plenty as it is.”

Norma paused to indulge a coughing fit.

“What are you talking about?” Irene asked. “I’ve been a model tenant. I pay my rent on time. I don’t bring men back to my apartment. I don’t make a lot of noise.”

Norma got a sorrowful expression. “Things change, honey. Like I said, sorry, but that’s how it is.”

Oliver studied Norma. “I assume you’ve had a visit or a phone call from someone who advised you that it was in your best interests to evict Miss Glasson.”

“Yeah, the studio sent a goon around.” Norma squinted at him. “Probably the same one that broke into 2B a couple of times.”

“He broke in twice?” Oliver said.

“Yeah.”

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