nod, Algir sent the Buick moving out of the parking lot. Edris watched the tail lights disappear, then turned and got into the Mini. The clutch, brake and gas pedals had been built up with thick lumps of cork so his stumpy legs could reach down to them. He was a fast, expert driver. He hadn’t had an accident in his seventeen years of driving.
He drove fast out of Paradise City, pushing the Mini up to eighty miles an hour once on the highway. But as he approached No. 247, Seaview Boulevard, he slowed and drove past at a much slower speed, glancing at the parked police cars in front of the bungalow. It took him another ten minutes to reach East Street. Leaving his car before the apartment block, he took the elevator to the top floor and entered the two room apartment he had lived in now for the past eight years.
There was a big living room, a small bedroom, a kitchenette and a shower room. He had lavished considerable care on the living room and by careful buying and selection, he had made it into a comfortable, tastefully furnished home. He used a coffee table for his dining table and he had had a special miniature chair and a lounging chair made for his own comfort: the rest of the furniture was of normal size as Edris liked to entertain his friends from time to time and he had chosen the settee and the armchairs with consideration for the comfort of others.
He bounced into the bedroom, stripped off his clothes and then ran into the shower room. He danced around in his grotesque nakedness under the shower of tepid water, slapping his hands together in time with his humming. He then dried himself and put on a pair of gold and blue pyjamas and a blue dressing gown. He went into the sitting room, crossing over to the miniature cocktail cabinet. He poured himself a slug of whisky, added charge water, then carrying the drink to his armchair, he sat down, putting his feet up on a tiny footstool. He took a drink, set down the glass, then lit a cigarette. He sat for some minutes, relaxing, drawing the cigarette smoke deep into his lungs and then expelling it through his wide nostrils.
He glanced at the tiny lady’s wristwatch on his wrist. The time was 06.30 hours. It would take Phil a little under the hour to reach Greater Miami. If all went well, Phil would be on his way back to Paradise City by half-past eight. He couldn’t expect to hear from Phil before half-past nine or even ten.
Edris finished his whisky, stifled a yawn and stubbed out his cigarette. He would have liked to have gone to bed, but he knew if he went to bed, he would fall asleep and that would never do. He mustn’t be sleepy or dull minded when the cops arrived.
He struggled out of his chair and carrying his empty glass over to the cocktail cabinet, he made himself another drink. Edris was a heavy drinker, but seemed able to absorb a considerable quantity of alcohol without it affecting him. But tonight he had been under a strain and he was tired. He told himself to go slow with the whisky. It wouldn’t do for him to get overconfident.
He was finishing his drink, sipping it slowly, when he heard a car pull up in the street below. He restrained the urge to look out of the window. The cops mustn’t catch him peeping at them. He carried the glass into the kitchenette and rinsed it out. Then he went into the hall and standing by the front door, he listened.
Beigler had got the key to the dead woman’s apartment from the janitor who had shrugged indifferently when Beigler had told him the woman was dead. To Beigler’s questions, he had said he knew little about the woman except her name was Marsh, that she paid her rent
regularly, never appeared in the mornings, went out in the afternoons and returned very late each night. She didn’t have much mail and seldom visitors.
Yawning prodigiously, Hess got into the elevator with Beigler and they shot up to the top floor. Entering the woman’s two-room apartment, they looked around. The living room was