one more thing right now would be one more thing than I can stand.” He picked up the phone and informed the manager that he’d meet him by Jay Otto’s door.
The manager, an apprehensive, jittery little man with highly polished hair, was waiting for them at the door when they arrived. He looked anxiously at Helene and Malone.
“We were all having breakfast together,” Jake said, “and my wife and Mr. Malone thought they’d better come along, in case Mr. Otto was ill or anything.”
The manager looked relieved. “I would have sent for Mr. McJackson,” he twittered, “but I didn’t know where to reach him. I do hope there’s nothing wrong. But Mr. Otto is so punctual in his habits, and he called after he got in last night so the clerk knew it must be very important, and when he didn’t answer his phone this morning I felt very disturbed, and that was why I called you.”
“He called after he came in?” Jake said, lifting an eyebrow.
The manager nodded. “It was quite late. Yes, it must have been after four, because Briggs took the call, and he took over the board at four. Mr. Otto couldn’t have expected to get much sleep, if he got in at that hour and wanted to be called at seven-thirty. Of course, he might not need as much sleep as”—he coughed—“ordinary people. It’s most unusual for Mr. Otto to get in as late as that. Almost invariably he’s back here right after his last performance—”
“Something may have detained him,” Jake said. “Well, let’s go in and see what’s the matter with him.” He wondered if his voice sounded hoarse. “Do you have a passkey?”
“Right here,” the manager said. “I wonder if you’d be so kind—seeing that—”
“Yes, of course,” Jake said tersely. He put the key in the lock, turned it, stood there holding it for a split second, and flung open the door.
The other three came into the room right behind him.
“Well, he’s here all right,” the manager said. Then he gave a startled little squeak.
“Yes, he’s here,” Malone said grimly.
The tiny form of Jay Otto lay in the exact center of his enormous, specially made bed, clad in gaudy silk pajamas, his head resting on his elaborately embroidered pillow. The marks of the noose that had strangled him still showed, dark and ugly, on his throat.
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