ahead of themâ"
"Then we may have something to use to expose them. Once they're arrested, tossed in jail, they can't hurt you."
"That's touching, Ben, very thoughtful."
"They also won't be able to hurt me." He parked down the block from the old actors home.
The rain was heavier now, coming down enthusiastically. There was only one street light near, old and dim.
"I can sneak back in and search McAuliffe's room," H.J. offered. "I know the house, after all, and in case there's some trouble, Mrs. Farber likes me."
"Nope, I'll do it. Have you finished drawing the floor plan?"
Working by the light of the flash, using a ballpoint pen on the back of a yellow garage bill she'd found in his glove compartment, she was sketching out the layout of the second floor of Mrs. Farber's establishment. "Okay, first you shinny up that fire escape on the right side of the house," she said. "Then you climb in the second floor windowâit's always open a few inches because Mrs. Farber believes fresh air is important at night. Marvelo told me that during one of my visits here with Rick. McAuliffe's room is this one. I've marked it with an X."
"That's a Z."
"I'm a professional artist. I guess I can draw a damn X when the occasion arises. Marvelo has the room right here."
"Judging from our conversation with him this afternoon, he likes to eavesdrop on what's going on around him."
"Right, so be extremely quiet while you're ransacking the trunk," she cautioned. "Mrs. Farber has a room at the back of the first floor someplace, so she isn't likely to hear anything."
Nodding, he took the flashlight from her and clicked it off. "Slide over into the driver's seat once I leave. In case we need to make a hurried getaway."
"You're trusting me to drive your car? In times gone by you were an extreme fussbudget aboutâ"
"See you shortly." He eased out into the rainy 1:00 AM darkness. Ducking low, he hurried along the cracked sidewalk. He felt as though he were doing an impression of Groucho Marx or possibly Chuck Berry.
There was a single dim light showing in the bow window of the living room, another up on the third floor. The rest of the big old Victorian house was dark.
Ben squeezed through the gap between sprung-iron gate and the fence. Crouching even lower, he started through the high, wet grass, trying to avoid trolls, elk, and other obstacles.
Suddenly he tripped over something and fell to his knees, losing his grip on the dark flashlight. A sharp pain started spreading from his left knee and he had the impression he'd bitten into his lower lip when he hit the ground. He stayed kneeling for a few seconds. Then, in his Lionel Barrymore voice, he quietly told himself, "You can walk again, lad. Get up and do it for old Dr. Gillespie."
Ben rose and then bent to start feeling at the ground for his lost light. He put his hand into something soggy he hoped was only a discarded melon before he located the light and retrieved it. Then he went tottering ahead. A whooshing gust of wind threw extra rain onto him.
He had made it over to the side of the house and was searching for the fire escape ladder when he walked into it. Taking hold of a rung with one hand, he looked upward. One story above him somebody was climbing rapidly down the same metal ladder.
Chapter 10
Â
P ressing back against the side of the house, with the rain slushing into his upturned face, Ben watched the dark figure descending. It was someone wearing black jeans, a navy blue pullover and a black ski mask. As the person climbed quietly down toward the ground, something clacked against the metal ladder. That had to be, he was certain, Buggsy being carried down from McAuliffe's room.
Hidden in the shadows, he narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better look at what the burglar was making off with. As the dark figure dropped from the final rung to the wet ground, Ben caught a glimpse of Buggsy's red hair. The dummy was tucked up under the intruder's left
"Then we may have something to use to expose them. Once they're arrested, tossed in jail, they can't hurt you."
"That's touching, Ben, very thoughtful."
"They also won't be able to hurt me." He parked down the block from the old actors home.
The rain was heavier now, coming down enthusiastically. There was only one street light near, old and dim.
"I can sneak back in and search McAuliffe's room," H.J. offered. "I know the house, after all, and in case there's some trouble, Mrs. Farber likes me."
"Nope, I'll do it. Have you finished drawing the floor plan?"
Working by the light of the flash, using a ballpoint pen on the back of a yellow garage bill she'd found in his glove compartment, she was sketching out the layout of the second floor of Mrs. Farber's establishment. "Okay, first you shinny up that fire escape on the right side of the house," she said. "Then you climb in the second floor windowâit's always open a few inches because Mrs. Farber believes fresh air is important at night. Marvelo told me that during one of my visits here with Rick. McAuliffe's room is this one. I've marked it with an X."
"That's a Z."
"I'm a professional artist. I guess I can draw a damn X when the occasion arises. Marvelo has the room right here."
"Judging from our conversation with him this afternoon, he likes to eavesdrop on what's going on around him."
"Right, so be extremely quiet while you're ransacking the trunk," she cautioned. "Mrs. Farber has a room at the back of the first floor someplace, so she isn't likely to hear anything."
Nodding, he took the flashlight from her and clicked it off. "Slide over into the driver's seat once I leave. In case we need to make a hurried getaway."
"You're trusting me to drive your car? In times gone by you were an extreme fussbudget aboutâ"
"See you shortly." He eased out into the rainy 1:00 AM darkness. Ducking low, he hurried along the cracked sidewalk. He felt as though he were doing an impression of Groucho Marx or possibly Chuck Berry.
There was a single dim light showing in the bow window of the living room, another up on the third floor. The rest of the big old Victorian house was dark.
Ben squeezed through the gap between sprung-iron gate and the fence. Crouching even lower, he started through the high, wet grass, trying to avoid trolls, elk, and other obstacles.
Suddenly he tripped over something and fell to his knees, losing his grip on the dark flashlight. A sharp pain started spreading from his left knee and he had the impression he'd bitten into his lower lip when he hit the ground. He stayed kneeling for a few seconds. Then, in his Lionel Barrymore voice, he quietly told himself, "You can walk again, lad. Get up and do it for old Dr. Gillespie."
Ben rose and then bent to start feeling at the ground for his lost light. He put his hand into something soggy he hoped was only a discarded melon before he located the light and retrieved it. Then he went tottering ahead. A whooshing gust of wind threw extra rain onto him.
He had made it over to the side of the house and was searching for the fire escape ladder when he walked into it. Taking hold of a rung with one hand, he looked upward. One story above him somebody was climbing rapidly down the same metal ladder.
Chapter 10
Â
P ressing back against the side of the house, with the rain slushing into his upturned face, Ben watched the dark figure descending. It was someone wearing black jeans, a navy blue pullover and a black ski mask. As the person climbed quietly down toward the ground, something clacked against the metal ladder. That had to be, he was certain, Buggsy being carried down from McAuliffe's room.
Hidden in the shadows, he narrowed his eyes and tried to get a better look at what the burglar was making off with. As the dark figure dropped from the final rung to the wet ground, Ben caught a glimpse of Buggsy's red hair. The dummy was tucked up under the intruder's left
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