"killerinthehouse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blackmon Robert C)

to be heard clearly in the hall.

I opened Carter's door. Sticking my head inside, I said the same thing I'd said in
Marsh's room. Then I left Carter's door also ajar an inch.

" I...I--" Johnny's voice was a wire-thin whisper.

I dragged him along the hallway until I was about halfway between Carter's and Marsh's
room, then yelled loudly:

"Here! Johnny! You, elevator boy!"

Johnny almost jumped out of his purple uniform. I had him by the arm.

"Come on to the elevator!" I yelled at Johnny, though his face wasn't two feet from my
own. "We're going to get the manager! We're going to take a look in Hammond's room and
inspect his baggage! Something's wrong in that room! Come on !"

I headed toward the elevator, and Johnny didn't need any pulling along. We made a lot
of noise galloping along the hallway, We reached the elevator and Johnny tried to pull away
from me and get into it. I wouldn't let him. A push sent the elevator door clanging shut,
then I was pulling Johnny across the hallway to David Hammond's room, 712.


Johnny was scared stiff and didn't offer much resistance until I got him into Hammond's
room. When he saw Hammond's body on the bed, he started fighting me, and I slapped him just
hard enough to make him stop. Rushing him around the bed, I got him into the clothes closet,
pushed in after him and pulled the door almost shut. I could see the room in the gray half-
light.

"What--" Johnny's breathing was shrill and fast. I could feel him jerking against me.
The closet was hardly big enough to hold him, the suits, bags and me.

"Shut up, partner. We're going to catch us a killer,"

That shut him up, as I figured it would. I could feel him go stiff against me.

Then the knob of Hammond's door rattled a little. Light spilled into the room as it
opened. A man's figure slipped through the opening but he moved so fast I couldn't see his
face. He shut the door behind him and headed straight for the clothes closet.

I stopped breathing as I saw the cold glint of steel in his right hand. He reached for
the closet door with his left hand.

I yelled as loudly as I could, slapped the closet door wide open and came out of the
little space with both fists swinging. The yell, I figured, would scare the man stiff for
a split second and give me a chance to knock him cold with my fists before he could get in
a slash with the knife.

I was almost right.