Chapter 4: IV

IV Hurricane Street My destination was a gray frame cottage. When I rang the bell the door was opened by a thin man with a tired face that had no color in it except a red spot the size of a half-dollar high on each cheek. This, I thought, is the lunger Dan Rolff. “I’d like to see Miss Brand,” I told him. “What name shall I tell her?” His voice was a sick man’s and an educated man’s. “It wouldn’t mean anything to her. I want to see her about Willsson’s death.” He looked at me w…