Witness to Murder Read Online Free Page A

ladder began slowly to go down under his weight until Frank could climt up to Phil's window. His sneakers muffled his footsteps, but the metal creaked and rattled with each step and once even banged against the building.
    Standing outside what he was sure had to be Phil's room, Frank glanced about before tryin the window. A matchbook cover was wedged into the space between the metal railing and the building. Two cigarette butts had been ground out on the railing. Frank could imagine someone leaning against the building, smoking and absentmindedly pushing the cardboard cover into the small space The advertisement on the match cover was for a bar in New York City. It might mean nothing, it might have been left there long ago, but Frank stuck it into his pants pocket to investigate at a later time.
    The window to Phil's room was unlocked and open, two or three inches. So much for sealed rooms, Frank thought. But after raising the window and stepping into the room, Frank knew that the police weren't the only ones to have been there.
    He quickly closed the Venetian blinds so no one could see him in the room. The place was a shambles. Chairs had been overturned, the upholstery had been slit and the mattress was in shreds.
    Someone had done a very thorough job searching Phil Sidler's room.
    Frank was reaching for the light switch to have a better look when he heard the click of the door and He started to whirl around to hide, but there was no time to move. The doorknob turned. Frank's only impression was that the man who entered was tall.
    "What the — " the man cried. His reactions were lightning fast. He raised his arm to deliver a low.
    Before Frank could reach out to protect himself, he was sent spinning into gaping blackness.

Chapter 4
    Frank had ducked so that the blow only glanced off his skull. But it did momentarily make him black out — enough to keep him from identifying the man later. All he knew was that the man was very tall—and agile. Shaking his head once, Frank looked around and saw he was alone. He' staggered out into the hallway and recovered enough to weave down the stairs.
    Out on the street he looked both ways. An elderly woman was making her way slowly toward the corner of the block. A tomcat, scarred from many battles, looked back at him before rolling his back once and moving on. But no tall man. The man had been unbelievably quick. He had reacted to seeing Frank in the room in a fraction of a second. Who was he?
    Frank knew it wasn't logical that he was the same person who had ransacked the room earlier. The search had been thorough enough not to be Continued or repeated. And how did the man get Into Phil's room? It seemed that he had a key. Had Phil been accompanied to Bayport?
    The hotel clerk had disappeared, so Frank didn't bother to find and question him about the stranger. He'd probably gone out for coffee, Frank decided. Tight security in this place.
    There was no way of knowing where the tall man had gone, why he had been there in the first place, or whether he might return. But Frank didn't want to leave without checking out Phil's room. He might not get a second chance.
    Frank gently probed the spot on his head where he was hit. He could feel an egg forming, but at least he wasn't bleeding. He decided to take one more chance.
    He slipped back up the stairs and into Phil's room - This time it remained empty. Frank searched for a few minutes. Nothing. It was pure luck that Frank had turned up that matchbook cover on the fire escape. Of course, it could have belonged to a previous occupant. The month had been dry, so the condition of the cover would have remained the same for several weeks. - After climbing down the fire escape — just in case the hotel clerk had returned to his post Frank got in the van and headed for home. He needed to talk to his father and Joe.
    "Where's Dad?" asked Frank, striding into the den.
    Joe was slumped in a chair, dully watching an old movie on television. Mr.