Clive Darrow was not as cautious as Martin had once thought. He opened the door, stepped inside, and then closed it behind him, trying not to make a sound. Standing in the kitchen, under the pale light of a single bulb above the sink, Martin looked into the living room and saw Sherman Pearl stretched out across the floor, motionless. He was lying face down, with lengths of black cord wrapped around his feet and binding his hands behind him. Martin was relieved. The man was probably still alive, or else Clive Darrow would have had no reason to tie him up. Still motionless, Martin waited by the door for a moment, listening and examining every shadowy corner of the kitchen and living room for possible danger. He could hear movement upstairs; a man’s muffled voice, and footsteps. He couldn’t believe how calm he was. “Mr. Pearl,” Martin whispered. “Can you hear me?” No answer. Martin tried again with the same result. Next, he looked to the far end of the countertop, where the recharging base of the Pearls’ telephone was located.
