"Robert A. Heinlein - The unpleasant profession of Johathan Ho" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

"'Come on' where?"
"To the scene of the crime. If I don't get this straightened out I'll never sleep
again."

The Acme Building was just where they had left it. The Bootery was where it
belonged, likewise Chez Louis, and the newsstand. He stood where she had stood and
agreed that she could not have been mistaken in her identification unless blind drunk. But
he was equally positive as to what he had done.
"You didn't pick up a snifter or two on the way, did you?" he suggested hopefully.
"Certainly not."
"What do we do now?"
"I don't know. Yes, I do, too! We're finished with Hoag, aren't we? You've traced
him down and that's that."
"Yes...why?"
"Take me up to where he works. I want to ask his daytime personality whether or
not he spoke to you getting off the bus."
He shrugged. "O.K., kid. It's your party."
They went inside and entered the first free elevator. The starter clicked his
castanets, the operator slammed his doors and said, "Floors, please."
Six, three, and nine. Randall waited until all those had been served before
announcing, "Thirteen."
The operator looked around. "I can give you twelve and fourteen, buddy, and you
can split 'em."
"Huh?"
"There ain't no thirteenth floor. If there was, nobody would rent on it."
"You must be mistaken. I was on it this morning."
The operator gave him a look of marked restraint. "See for yourself." He shot the
car upward and halted it. "Twelve." He raised the car slowly, the figure 12 slid out of
sight and was quickly replaced by another. "Fourteen. Which way will you have it?"
 "I'm sorry," Randall admitted. "I've made a silly mistake. I really was in here this
morning and I thought I had noted the floor."
"Might ha' been eighteen," suggested the operator. "Sometimes an eight will look
like a three. Who you lookin' for?"
"Detheridge & Co. They're manufacturing jewelers."
The operator shook his head. "Not in this building. No jewelers, and no
Detheridge."
"You're sure?"
Instead of answering, the operator dropped his car back to the tenth floor. "Try
1001. It's the office of the building."
No, they had no Detheridge. No, no jewelers, manufacturing or otherwise. Could
it be the Apex Building the gentleman wanted, rather than the Acme? Randall thanked
them and left, considerably shaken.

Cynthia had maintained complete silence during the proceedings. Now she said,
"Darling -- "
"Yeah. What is it?"
"We could go up to the top floor, and work down."
"Why bother? If they were here, the building office would know about it."
"So they would, but they might not be telling. There is something fishy about this
whole business. Come to think about it, you could hide a whole floor of an office