From where I sat, she had it coming to her, and the only thing wrong with it was the fact that now I was hopelessly saddled with Stedman’s murder. And hers. I wished she could have lived long enough to do a little talking.
I sat up suddenly. I had to warn Suzy! That gorilla knew where she lived, and he might try to get her too. If he’d followed us from Randall Street to those phone booths, he must have tailed us all the way to the apartment. She was with me, so he would figure she was after him too. God, maybe it was already too late. And just how was I going to warn her? They had me treed like a raccoon on top of this building.
But maybe there was a pay phone in the building. Sometimes in cheap apartment houses where a lot of the tenants didn’t have phones of their own there were pay phones in the corridor on each floor. I sprang up and strode over to the big man with his telescope. He still had his eye glued to it.
My eyes were well accustomed to the darkness now, and I could see him somewhat better. He appeared to be about forty, rather moon-faced, heavy-set, and wide across the shoulders, but soft-looking. He wore a cap, a scarf around his neck, and one of those he-mannish coats that sports car fanatics went in for, a three-quarter length affair with wooden dowels for buttons.
“Is there a pay phone anywhere in the building?” I asked.
He made no reply.
I reached down, caught him by the arms, and hauled him to his feet “Pay attention, friend,” I said. “I’m talking to you.”
He stared at me in surprise and outrage. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see I’m busy? If you want to look at Saturn, go bother somebody else. I’m studying the Cepheid variables.”
I shook him. “Come back and join us for a minute. The planet I want to talk about is this one. Remember it? It has people on it. And they sometimes use things called telephones. Is there a pay phone down there in the corridors?”
“No,” he said.
“Have you got one in your apartment?”
“I have not,” he said irritably. “Now, will you please get out.”
“Not yet,” I said. “Peel off that bird-watchers’ coat and hand it here. And the cap.”
For the first time he looked slightly nervous. “Are you going to rob me?”
“No. I’m just trading coats with you. And since mine’s got a bullet hole in it I’ll give you twenty dollars to boot.”
“I never heard anything so ridiculous—”
“Get it off,” I said. “Or I’ll kick your telescope.”
He’d decided by now I was crazy, so he took it off and handed it to me, along with the cap. I handed him two tens and felt in the pockets of the gabardine for anything I’d left in them. I came out with a small, folded piece of paper. What—? Then I remembered. It was that girl’s name and telephone number I’d taken from Frances Celaya’s purse. I shrugged and dropped it in the pocket of my suit coat. He put on the gabardine, muttering to himself. “Twelve straight days of either clouds or turbulence, and then when you get one hour of good viewing—”
I put on his. The cap was slightly too large, but I could keep it on my head. He had sat down again, glued his eye to the telescope, and forgotten I even existed. I wondered if he was married. Well, it probably didn’t matter, I thought. The average wife might have a little trouble understanding how you could trade coats with somebody on the roof of a four-story building at two o’clock in the morning, but no doubt his had become accustomed to the fuzzier types of explanation. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, dear. I was just sitting there studying the Cepheid variables, and this man came by—
I located the door and went down a flight of steps to the top floor. The corridors were poorly lighted and deserted. They were rather depressing with landlord-tan wallpaper and the smells of old cooking. I met no one at all. In the corridor on the ground floor, just inside the front door, there was a mirror hanging on the wall above a small table containing a potted plant of some kind. I stopped and checked myself. The coat and cap were fine, and I looked entirely different, but there