CHAPTER 7The Hotel Lowell was on an old stone building on a side street off Seventh Avenue on 47th Street. Its facade was dirty and neglected-looking. Inside, the lobby was dingy, lightless and dusty. A couple of discouraged-looking rubber plants were placed around it in an attempt at decoration, and half a dozen chairs were scattered in strategic places in a futile attempt to make it look cozy.
A gaunt, grey-haired old man with a pince-nez on a sleazy black ribbon stood behind the registration desk, looked askance at Johnny Liddell’s unshaven chin, deep lines of fatigue.
“Miss Readon has had an accident. She’s not here.” He stopped picking his teeth, sucked at them noisily. “Matter of fact, I hear she’s dead.”
“How about a room-mate? Understood she shared a room with another girl in th
