“I understand and I passed along your comment about how antsy he is. Mr. Effinger’s anxious to take his deposition so he asked me to go ahead and call and get something on the books. I’ve tried three times this morning and I can’t get anyone to pick up. I hate to do this to you, but he’s leaning on me so I gotta turn around and lean on you.”

“Let me see what I can do. I don’t think he works Mondays so I may be able to catch him at home. You have a date and time set? If so, I’ll make sure he puts it on his calendar.”

“Not yet. We’ll accommodate his schedule once we know what’s good for him.”

“Great. I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve talked to him. If he’s at all resistant, I’ll put him in my car and drive him over there myself.”

“Thanks.”

I got in my car and looped back up Santa Teresa Street and covered the eight blocks, making the two left turns that put me on Dave Levine. The residence hotel came into view, and for once there was a decent parking place out front. I left my car at the curb and took the porch steps two at a time. I pushed open the door and walked down the hall to Mrs. Von’s office in the rear. On the counter there was an old-fashioned punch bell and I gave it a ringy-ding.

A young woman came out of the dining room with a feather duster in one hand. She was in her twenties, her hair skinned back and held in place with blue plastic combs. She wore a T-shirt and jeans, and she had a dust rag caught in a belt loop, like a sous-chef. “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Mrs. Von.”

“She’s out running errands.”

The phone on the desk behind her began to ring. And ring. And ring. She glanced at it, ignoring the obvious solution, which was to answer it. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The ringing stopped.

“Possibly,” I said. “Do you know if Mr. Downs is in?”

“He’s gone.”

“The man’s always gone. Any idea when he’ll be back?”

“He moved out. I’m supposed to clean the place, but I haven’t gotten to it yet. Mrs. Von’s putting a notice in the paper that the room’s for rent. That’s partly what she’s doing while she’s out.”

“You can’t be serious. I talked to him on Saturday and he never said a word. When did he give notice?”

“He didn’t. He just packed up and left. Whatever you said to him, you must have scared him away,” she said with a laugh.

I stood rooted in place. What in the world would I tell Lowell Effinger? Melvin Downs’s statement was crucial to his case and now the guy had cut and run.

“Can I take a look at his room?”

“Mrs. Von wouldn’t like that.”

“Ten minutes. Please. That’s all I ask. She doesn’t have to know.”

She thought about that and seemed to shrug. “Door’s unlocked so you can walk around if you want. Not that there’s anything to see. I peeked in first thing to see if he’d left a mess behind. It’s clean as a whistle as far as I can tell.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that. I’m busy cleaning the kitchen. I don’t know nuthin’ about nuthin’ if she catches you.”

I took the back stairs this time, worried I’d run into the returning Mrs. Von if I used the main staircase. From below I could hear the ringing of the phone start up again. Maybe the cleaning woman was on orders not to answer it. Maybe Cleaning Personnel Union #409 forbade her taking on duties that weren’t specified by contract.

When I got to the third floor, just to be on the safe side, I tapped at Melvin Downs’s door and waited a beat. When no one responded to my knock, I checked the hall in both directions and then opened the door.

I stepped into his room with the same heightened sense of danger I felt every time I found myself someplace I wasn’t supposed to be, which was much of the time these days. I closed my eyes and inhaled. The room smelled of aftershave. I opened them again and did a visual survey. The dimensions were unexpectedly generous, probably sixteen by twenty feet. The closet was large enough to accommodate a wide chest of drawers with two wooden rods for hanging clothes and a shoe rack attached to the back of the door. Above the hanging rods there were empty wood shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling.

The adjacent bathroom was twelve by twelve with an old cast-iron claw-foot tub and a sink with a wide lip, a small glass shelf above. The toilet had a wooden seat and a wall-mounted tank that was operated by a pull-chain. The floors were covered in a parquet pattern of fake-wood linoleum.