Rackham, was the number one suspect, and Wolfe had either to return his dead client's ten grand, keep it without doing anything to earn it, or meet Zeck head on. Knowing Wolfe as I did, I hit eighty-five that morning rolling south on the

Sawmill River Parkway.

The dash clock said 7.18 as I left the West Side Highway at Forty-sixth Street.

I had to cross to Ninth Avenue to turn south. It was as empty as the country roads had been. Turning right on Thirty-fifth Street, I went on across Tenth

Avenue, on nearly to Eleventh, and pulled to the curb in front of Wolfe's old brownstone house.

Even before I killed the engine I saw something that made me goggle-a sight thai had never greeted me before in the thousands of times I had braked a car to a stop there.

The front door was standing wide open.

Chapter Six

My heart came up. I swallowed it down, jumped out, ran across the sidewalk and up the seven steps to the stoop and on in. Fritz and Theodore were there in the hall, coming to me. Their faces were enough to make a guy's heart pop right out of his mouth.

“Airing the house? I demanded.

“He's gone, Fritz said.

“Gone where?

“I don't know. During the night. When I saw the door was open-

“What's that in your hand?

“He left them on the table in his room-for Theodore and me, and one for you-

I snatched the pieces of paper from his trembling hand and looked at the one on top. The writing on it was Wolfe's.