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Page 347
arm and began steering him toward the long wooden ramp that led up and away from the beach. Within a matter of minutes he was guiding Charlie through the lobby into the elevator and back to the third floor. When they entered the condo there was no sign of the tragedy that had transpired the previous night.
Charlie, steadier now, headed straight for the balcony then back into the dining area where Kristen had dropped the container. There was no sign of Kristen or the shattered glass jar. When he returned to the room to confront Raymond, his face betrayed his confusion.
"Where is she?"
"Where is who, Mr. Frazier?"
"You know damn well who I'm talking about. Where is Miss Masters?"
Raymond Armond, in his peculiar, detached, disjointed and mechanical manner, walked wearily across the room and stood staring out at the azure blue tranquility of the placid gulf. "I m afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Frazier."
"Damn it! The Masters woman, the woman at the restaurant, the woman that owns this condo, the woman you left the container for last night."
It was Armond's turn to confront him. He turned back to Frazier, his face void of expres-

 
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