"Danger? That's interesting. What kind?"
"Charlie never really got that part straight. Something to do with a key, is what he said."
"Ah. Probably the one Johnny had in his safe. I was going to show it to a friend of mine who's acquainted with locks. Unfortunately, I suspect he's been incarcerated for his expertise."
"Where is it now? Bucky told Ray you had it with you last he knew," he said.
"I do. It's tucked in the bottom of my handbag," I said. "You sound worried."
"Well, yes, but it's not about that." I could hear the anxiety underlying Henry's tone. "I hate to have to say this, but Charlie told Ray your current whereabouts because Ray convinced him you needed help."
"How did Charlie know where I was?"
Henry sighed, burdened by the necessity for a full confession. "I wrote the name and number of the hotel on a pad near the phone. You know Charlie. He can barely hear under the best of circumstances. Somehow he got it in his head that Ray was a good friend and you wouldn't care if he gave out the information. Especially since you were in trouble."
"Oh, boy. The room number, too?"
"I'm afraid so," Henry said. He sounded so guilty and miserable, I couldn't protest, though I didn't like the idea of Rawson knowing where I was. Henry went on. "I can't believe the man would actually fly all the way to Dallas, but he'll probably call, and I didn't want you to be surprised or upset. I'm uneasy about this, Kinsey, but there's nothing I can do."
"Don't worry about it, Henry. I appreciate the warning."
"I could just wring Charlie's neck."
"I'm sure he was trying to be helpful," I said. "Anyway, there's probably no harm done. I don't consider Ray Rawson any kind of threat."
"I hope not. I feel terrible about leaving the information out in plain sight."
"Don't be silly. You had no reason to think anybody'd ask, and you couldn't have known Rawson was going to show up like that."
"Well, I know," he said, "but I could have said something to the sibs. I gave Charlie a fussing at, but it's myself I blame. It truly never occurred to me that he'd do such a thing."
"Hey, what's done is done. It's not your fault."
"You're sweet to say so. All I could think to do was call as soon as possible. I think you should check out or at least change rooms. I don't like the idea of his showing up on your doorstep. There's something 'off' about the whole business."
"I'd have to agree, but I'm not sure what to do. At the moment, I'm trying to keep a low profile around here," I said.
I could tell I'd put Henry on red alert. "Why is that?" he asked.
"I don't really want to go into it. Let's just say that right now I don't think it's a smart move."
"I don't want you taking any chances. You were foolish getting on that plane in the first place. It's none of your business, and the longer it goes on, the bigger mess it is."
I smiled. "Chester hired me. This is work. Besides, it's fun. I get to skulk around corridors and spy on folk."
"Don't be gone too long. We've got the wedding coming up."
"I'm not going to forget that. I'll be there. I promise."
"Call me if there's anything I can do to help."
The minute he hung up, I crossed to the door and threw on the security chain. I thought about hanging the "Do Not Disturb" on the outside knob, but that would only announce to one and all that I was actually in the room. I began to pace, giving the situation my serious consideration. I felt curiously vulnerable now that Rawson knew where I was, though why that should have made a difference I wasn't really sure. From what Chester'd said, he was in pretty bad shape, which would have made travel unpleasant to say the least. It would also cost him a bundle with no guarantee that I was still in Dallas. Of course, if he was wanted for questioning by the Santa Teresa cops, getting out of town wouldn't be a bad move on his part. I didn't really believe I was in any peril, but I wasn't unmindful of the possibility. Whatever Rawson's relationship to current events, it was clear he hadn't given me the relevant facts. I would feel a lot safer if I were in another room.
On the other hand, I didn't like the idea of asking to change. The hotel management wasn't dumb. It wouldn't have taken Mrs. Spitz more than a minute to figure out that I was up to no good. Hotels don't take lightly to pranksters and thieves. She'd seen me at close range, and at this point, the security guards probably had a fairly accurate description of me. Notice would have gone out to all the relevant staff – the hotel equivalent of an APB. If Vikki Biggs, the night clerk, remembered my name, I'd have someone knocking at my door very soon. Conversely, if the management hadn't figured it out, I'd be an idiot to go down there and call attention to myself. So forget the room change.