The Girl Who Knew Too Much(62)

Oliver studied the lock. “Looks new.”

“Of course, that explains it,” Irene said. Relief flashed through her. “The burglar must have broken the lock when he forced his way into my apartment. Mrs. Drysdale, my landlady, replaced it. I’ll go downstairs and let her know I’m back and that I need the new key.”

“I’ll come with you,” Oliver said.

She had started down the hall, but at that she stopped and turned around. “No need for you to go down those stairs twice.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said again. “Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“We’re wasting time, Irene.”

“Right.”

She was very conscious of Oliver making his way down the stairs behind her. His cane thudded on each step. She heard the hitch in his stride. He never said a word, but she knew that the descent must have been painful for him, considering what he had gone through in recent days.

When she reached the first floor, she went along another dingy hallway and knocked on Norma Drysdale’s door.

“Hold your horses,” Norma yelled in the harsh, hoarse voice of a lifelong smoker. “I’m coming.”

The door swung open. Norma appeared, wearing a faded housedress and an invisible cloak of stale smoke. Her bleached hair was set in tight marcel waves, a style that had been the height of fashion until recently but that now, thanks to stars like Ginger Rogers and Katharine Hepburn, had a decidedly dated look.

Norma peered at Irene as though trying to recall her name.

“Oh, it’s you,” she rasped. “Wondered when you’d show up. I was getting ready to sell your things. Figured I’d give you a week to collect ’em.”

“What?” It took Irene a couple of seconds to gather her wits. “But I’m current on my rent.”

Norma’s expression softened fractionally. “Sorry, but you’re trouble, honey, and I don’t need any more of that particular commodity. Got plenty as it is.”

Norma paused to indulge a coughing fit.

“What are you talking about?” Irene asked. “I’ve been a model tenant. I pay my rent on time. I don’t bring men back to my apartment. I don’t make a lot of noise.”

Norma got a sorrowful expression. “Things change, honey. Like I said, sorry, but that’s how it is.”

Oliver studied Norma. “I assume you’ve had a visit or a phone call from someone who advised you that it was in your best interests to evict Miss Glasson.”

“Yeah, the studio sent a goon around.” Norma squinted at him. “Probably the same one that broke into 2B a couple of times.”

“He broke in twice?” Oliver said.

“Yeah.”

“Why would he do that?” Irene asked.

“How should I know?” Norma shrugged. “First time he made a mess. It looked like the real deal—a straight-up burglary—so I called the cops and then I called you to let you know what had happened. But after the second break-in last night, I figured the bastards were trying to send a message.”

“What message?” Oliver asked.

“Just trying to scare Irene, I guess. Let her know she wasn’t safe anywhere—that they could get to her.” Norma broke off to cough a few more times. When she had composed herself, she eyed him more closely. “You’re the Amazing Oliver Ward, aren’t you? The magician who bungled his last act and nearly got himself killed? There was a picture of you and Irene in Silver Screen Secrets yesterday morning.”

He ignored that. “What was the threat that convinced you to toss Miss Glasson out into the street?”

Norma shrugged. “I was told that if I didn’t get rid of a certain troublesome tenant, there would be an accidental fire. Might lose the whole apartment house. This building is my retirement. Can’t afford to risk it.”

Irene pulled herself together and took a step back. “I’m sorry I got you involved, Mrs. Drysdale. Where are my things? I’ll get them and leave you in peace.”

“I put your stuff in some boxes,” Norma mumbled. She did not make eye contact. “Broom closet at the end of the hall.”

“I’ll get them,” Irene said.

She started to turn away.

Norma grunted. “Here’s a tip, honey. The studios own this town. You don’t cross ’em, not if you want to make a living. The sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.”

Irene paused. “I’m getting the message.”

Norma switched her attention back to Oliver. “Saw your act once. You were darn good, at least back before you messed up. I liked the way you made that pretty woman in the skimpy dress walk straight into the mirror and disappear. What went wrong that day you were almost killed?”