Killer with a Key

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Johnny Killain could see Jeff Landry's slender figure shiningly reflected from the bronzed walls of the service elevator, diminutive alongside his own bulk in its blue-gray uniform. He threw open the cab door and glanced out over the lobby before turning to look inquiringly at the blond man and nodding in the direction of the bar. “One for the road, Jeff? You might like Tommy's better.”

Jeff Landry shook his head apologetically. “I know I've been poor company, Johnny, but it wasn't your drinks.”

“So why rush off? You just got here. I don't see you all that often.”

“Restless, I guess.”

“Just what is it that's botherin' you, Jeff? An' in case you've forgotten I already asked you the same thing upstairs. You act like a man with something on his mind.”

“It'll keep,” the slender man said lightly. “When am I going to see you over at my place? We put the animals to bed any time after eight, you know.”

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