CHAPTER ELEVEN
Carl Parnell dropped by later that same night and it made the young landlady nervous speaking with him at her front door. He was obviously drunk, and she didn't want him making a spectacle of himself at this time of night.
"Why don't you go up to your apartment?" she suggested.
"Because I want to see you," he insisted.
"I'm sorry - but it's late and I must get my rest. I've had a very difficult day."
Carl got his foot in the door, and wasn't going to go away. Thinking he might awake some tenants, she reluctantly let him in.
"You can't stay very long," she told him flatly. "I've got a lot of things to do tomorrow, and I need my rest tonight."
"Sure - sure, I understand," he slurred, as he half-staggered over to Beverly Mead's sofa and sat down.
"Got anything to drink?
