“Yes, I see that it is,” Stolz said quietly. His dark, narrow, handsome face held only a touch of dismay. He was smoking a cigarette in a gold and ivory holder; now he removed it, crushed it out in the dashboard tray, put the holder into his breast pocket. He looked closely at the house as they rolled nearer. “All dark, darker than she would have it. Someone’s been here. We’re late.”

Marvitch nodded, guiding the car back into the shadowy area near the garage. When Marvitch had set the brakes, cut the motor and lights, Stolz got out and walked toward the back door. Marvitch caught up with him there. “This door isn’t locked,” Stolz said. “I know she was careful about keeping it latched after sundown.”

They went in. Stolz knew the house, didn’t put on a light until they had reached the hall. He went at once into his own room. He and Marvitch surveyed the mess. “She had moved it,” Stolz said. “I kept it in there.” He indicated the wardrobe, walked over, opened the little door that Big Tom had closed. “They made a search.” Stolz looked at the upturned end of the mattress. He shook his head. “I hate to lose the little automatic. It was quite a toy. Besides that, it might turn up somewhere later to embarrass me.”

Marvitch said, “We’d better look around for the old lady and the girl. Maybe they’re tied up somewhere.”

“That’s likely.” Stolz led the way back into the hall. “Mrs. Havermann’s room is upstairs. Let’s look there first.”

Stolz ran lightly up the carpeted steps. He kept himself lean and fit. He watched his diet, ate a lot of fruit and yogurt and bran crackers, and swam in the hotel pool. The desert sun kept him well tanned. Marvitch was slower, weighter. Marvitch lived on rare steaks and bourbon whiskey and eighteen-year-old brunettes. He, too, in his own way was in excellent shape. When Stolz saw what was in Mrs. Havermann’s bedroom he paled yellow, and when Marvitch saw it he made a sharp indignant sound like a squeezed duck.

“Oh, my God, what a horrible thing to have happened to her,” Stolz said. He sounded as if he meant it. He looked at Mrs. Havermann and then glanced away, as if the dreadful sight sickened him. “They’ve killed her.”

“They sure have.” Marvitch stared around at the room. “I wonder where the girl is?” He had never seen Karen, but Stolz’s description of her had interested him.

Stolz looked quickly through the other rooms. “She doesn’t seem to be here.” He shook his head, as if dismissing the problem of Karen from his mind. “We have to plan very carefully now.”

“I don’t see how we can clean this up enough to keep it away from the bulls,” Marvitch said.