here. And if she ever leaked, I’d be in the worst jam I’d ever heard of.

I had to do something. Time was running out. I squatted there in the dark, thinking swiftly. I began to see it then. It was the answer to everything.

Here was where I went in business for myself.

All I’d accomplished in this thing so far was to get shoved around. I’d been played for a sucker by a smooth operator who’d told me about 10 percent of the whole story, but now the program was going to change.

We were all looking for that money. And the only person that really knew whether or not it was in this house was Mrs. Butler. She was the key to the whole thing. I didn’t believe now that it was here, but she knew where it was, or where it was last seen. So what I wanted was Mrs. Butler. If I left her here she’d be killed, but if I took her with me I’d have the exact thing I needed: information.

And I knew just where to take her where we wouldn’t be interrupted. I could sober her up, and maybe if I kept asking the right questions long enough, I might find out a little about this. Of course, if she didn’t have anything to do with killing Butler, I was laying myself wide open to arrest for kidnapping, but I could see the way out of that. I tried to visualize the road map in my mind. It couldn’t be much over fifty miles…

It collapsed on me then. Take her? How? I didn’t have my car. Load her on my shoulder like a sack of oats, and walk through town with her? I cursed under my breath. I was right back where I’d started. But wait. She had a car, didn’t she? She must have come back from Sanport in it.

I’d have to leave her while I went out to the garage to look. But that joker probably wouldn’t try to ease back until he was sure I was gone. I went out and down the stairs, hurrying. I unlocked the kitchen door leading onto the back porch, cut the light, and went out. It was a few seconds before I could see anything in the dark. It’d be a nice time, I thought, for the gruesome bastard to try to clobber me with an ax.

When I could make out the squat shadow of the garage off beyond the corner of the house, I groped my way over to it. The big overhead door was locked. I went around to the side. There was a small door there. I tried the knob. It was unlocked. I went in and closed it. When I switched on the flashlight I was standing beside a ‘53 Cadillac. I poked the beam in on the dash. The keys weren’t in it. All I had to do now was find them. In a house of about twenty rooms. I looked at my watch. It was four-twenty. Maybe I couldn’t make it now, even if I already had the keys.

I’d never pretended to be able to think like a woman, but I knew a little about drunks. It paid off. I covered the area between the front door, where she would come in, and the kitchen, where the bottle would be, and I found the purse on a table by the dining room door. Her key case was in it.

I left it where it was and went back upstairs. I had picked her up and started out of the room when ] thought of something else. Putting her down on the divan, I flashed the light around on the floor, looking for the bottle. It had been knocked over during the fight, but it was corked and none of it had spilled. It was a fifth, a little over half full. I shoved it in my coat pocket and picked her up again. She was still out like a hung jury, and I knew she would be for hours. As I went out through the kitchen I grabbed up the purse.

I put her on the back seat of the car and switched on the flashlight long enough to take a look at the keys. I sorted out a couple that looked promising, cut the light, and went back outside, feeling for the lock of the overhead door. The first key did the trick. I boosted the door up slowly and got back