The Virtuous Woman Read Online Free PDF

led the way down the darkened corridor, which had only a small window at either end, both too grimy to admit much light. He stopped in front of number 507. “This ought to be it.” He knocked on the door, and they both heard a chair being scooted back. “Well, at least he’s home. I’d hate to have to make this trip twice.”
    The door opened, and a small young man stood blinking at them. “Yes?”
    “My name is Phil Winslow. This is my wife, Cara. Are you Francis Key?”
    “That’s me.”
    The speaker was no more than five-eight. He was unremarkable in appearance, with brown hair that fell over his horn-rimmed glasses. His eyes were gray and penetrating—the only interesting aspect of his pale face.
    “Would you like to come in?” Key asked. “It’s a little crowded, I’m afraid.”
    “I don’t want to intrude,” Phil said.
    “No problem. Step into my palatial apartment.”
    As Phil and Cara stepped in, Key said, “One of you can have the chair, and the other can sit on my bed.”
    “We won’t stay long,” Phil said, noticing a second chair that was hardly recognizable under stacks of books and papers. “Cara, have a seat.”
    Cara took the empty chair and glanced around the room. It appeared to be nothing but a storage room for books. Handmade shelves lined most of the wall space, each packed with books of all sorts—leather bound, paperback, and oversized ones that lay flat. In front of the cases on the floor were more books in stacks, some waist high. A table with an ancient typewriter on it was covered with papers and books. A cot pressed against one wall, neatly made up with a brown blanket and a single pillow. Squeezed in between two bookcases was a very small stove and what served for kitchen shelves. The room was relatively clean, but it was so full of books that it was hard to tell.
    “Alex Tyson gave us your name, Mr. Key,” Phil started.
    “How is Alex? I haven’t seen him for a while.”
    “Doing very well, I take it. But he couldn’t help us with our problem, and he thought perhaps you might be willing to do what you can.”
    “You want to find someone?”
    “How did you know that?” Cara asked.
    “Well, it was what I mostly did at the Rader Agency, but I’m not a detective anymore.”
    “So Mr. Tyson told us, but would you at least listen to what we have to say?”
    “I can listen, but I don’t have anything to offer you. I’m sorry.”
    “That’s all right,” Phil said hurriedly. He sat down on the cot while the shorter man remained standing. The man listened with a steady, almost devouring interest as Phil told their story. He seemed to be recording every word on somepart of his brain. “And so Mr. Tyson thought you might be able to help us find our daughter,” he concluded.
    “I’m afraid Alex has an exalted idea of my abilities.”
    “But he said you could find people that nobody else could.”
    “Well, I did find a few that were difficult, but as—”
    Cara stood up and reached out her hand in a plaintive gesture. “But Mr. Key—”
    Her words were cut off when a raucous voice screamed, “Prepare to meet thy God!”
    Cara saw a flash of brilliant color and an explosion of movement. She flinched as a bird struck her hair. She did not cry out, but it frightened her.
    Phil jumped to his feet, but Francis reached out for the bird and set it on his shoulder. “Prepare to meet thy God!” the brilliantly colored parrot said again, its eyes fixed on Cara.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. He reached up absently and stroked the bird with his right hand. “She’s very jealous.” A smile touched his wide mouth. “Jealous of women. Doesn’t like them to get close to me.”
    Phil laughed. “She’s like all other females, I suppose.”
    “She’s so beautiful. What’s her name?” Cara asked.
    “Miriam. I’ve had her for a couple of years now. I named her Miriam because Miriam was a prophetess. So I decided to let this Miriam speak the Word of God. Would you