“That’ll be swell.”

They entered the Union Hotel. The three ladies on the couch had not stirred. The TV still flickered.

“I’d like to thank both of you,” Adam said, shaking Griffin’s hand.

“What for?”

“Breakfast.”

“You mean that scrambled framistan with fortis oil!” The stocky man chuckled again. “Yeah!”

“I’m going to the room,” his wife said. She turned and walked away.

Sam Griffin lowered his voice. “Adam,” he said, “I wonder if I could ask you a little favor. I know we’re strangers, but I like you—I mean, I’m a pretty good judge of character; you have to be, in this business—and, well, would you mind?”

“I’d be glad to do you a favor, Sam, if I can.”

“I knew it. It ain’t nothing, much—but, you see, I’m going to be hitting for Farragut right away. The first few days are kind of rough, so I’ll be staying overnight, most likely. I’d just appreciate it if you’d maybe look in on Vy once in a while. She gets bored, and the women here are all too old for her; you know. I mean, if you get a chance. Maybe take her to a movie. Or play cards with her; she likes cards.”

Adam studied the man carefully, decided that it was not a joke.

“She don’t really go for this kind of life,” Griffin said. “Not really. We’re saving up our dough and in a couple years we’ll be able to buy a motel, or something, and take it easy; that’s what she wants. She’s a wonderful little girl, and old Sam hates to see her unhappy.”

“I’ll do my best,” Adam said.

“Good!”

Adam walked carefully around Billy Matthews’ outstretched legs, climbed the stairs and went into his room. From the dresser he took three thick white envelopes and shoved them into the breast pocket of his coat; then he went back to the lobby and picked up a telephone directory.

Shipman, Verne J., he found, lived at 22 Myrtlewood Lane . . .

He approached the three figures on the couch. To the first lady, a wax carving in a faded organdy dress, he said: “Excuse me, ma’am, but I wonder if you could tell me how to get to Myrtlewood Lane?”

She did not answer or move.

“Thanks anyway,” he said and went out the doorway, trying to erase Vy Griffin from his mind. There would be time for that later, perhaps.

Yes, he decided. Definitely. There would be time.

5

5