Read Online 1945 - Blonde's Requiem by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Hadley Chase
Ads: Link
climbing into the tourer. I couldn ’ t see what they looked like, except they were all big and broad-shouldered. One of them might have been Jeff Gordan, but I couldn ’ t be sure.
The tourer drove away fast.
If the police patrol was due in five minutes, it was time for me to get out of here. I took a quick look round the shop, but there was nothing to show what the men had been doing. Then I went back down the passage towards the back door.
As I was opening the door, something caught my eye. I turned the beam of my flashlight on the floor. A once-white crumpled handkerchief was lying almost at my feet. I picked it up. It was a small, lace-edged handkerchief with the initials M.D. worked in one of its corners.
I stepped into the alley, closed the back door and walked swiftly to the street.
To me the initials M.D. could mean only one thing. The handkerchief belonged to Mary Drake! With that and the four pictures of the missing girls as evidence of kidnapping, I could start trouble for Macey if he wouldn ’ t cooperate with me. Kidnapping was a Federal offence and the F.B.I. would act on this kind of evidence.
I slipped the handkerchief in my pocket and stepped cautiously from the alley into the street. There was no one around and I went back to the shop window.
The moon was now immediately overhead. I could clearly see the details of every photograph in the window. But there was only one photograph that interested me, the one that carried the caption: Special enlargements $1.50 extra.
One look was enough. I knew then why the three men had driven up to the shop and had entered in such haste. The photograph had been changed. The blonde girl whom Esslinger had told me was Mary Drake no longer laughed up at me. A photograph of a sharp-featured girl wearing a white floppy hat had taken her place.
As I stared blankly at the photograph, the girl seemed to sneer at me.
I reached the Granville Gazette building as a street clock struck three.
As I walked along the sidewalk in the brilliant moonlight I felt as exposed as a nudist let loose in a subway. The air was still stifling and I was sweating and jumpy.
I wandered past the dilapidated building, glanced casually at the double doors and noticed they were closed. I didn ’ t stop, but went on for twenty yards before ducking into a doorway.
It was going to be a sweet job to force that lock in a street that was almost as light as day. It only needed one conscientious cop to poke his head round the corner while I was doing it and I ’ d be in a nice jam. From what I had seen of the Cranville cops he ’ d shoot first and ask questions after.
I stood in the doorway and listened. It was quiet, and I was just making up my mind to get to work when I heard someone coming. I dodged back into the doorway and told myself what a smart guy I was not to have been caught in the open.
A woman came down the street. I could tell it was a woman by the click of her wooden heels on the brick pavement. She was walking quickly, then she slowed down, and a moment later the clicking of her heels stopped altogether.
I took off my hat and peered round the doorway. I caught a glimpse of her.
She was standing outside the Cranville Gazette building. I couldn ’ t see much of her except she was slim, medium height, and seemed to be wearing a dark tailored suit.
She looked suddenly up and down the street. The movement was nervous and furtive. I ducked back out of sight, hoping she hadn ’ t seen me.
She didn ’ t run away, so after a few seconds I took another look. She was now standing close to the double doors. As I watched her, wondering what she was doing, I heard a faint sound of a lock turning. A moment later she pushed open the doors and disappeared into the building.
Automatically I fumbled for a cigarette, changed my mind and massaged the back of my neck instead. This had foxed me.
I gave her a couple of minutes and then walked to the building and tried the double doors. They
The tourer drove away fast.
If the police patrol was due in five minutes, it was time for me to get out of here. I took a quick look round the shop, but there was nothing to show what the men had been doing. Then I went back down the passage towards the back door.
As I was opening the door, something caught my eye. I turned the beam of my flashlight on the floor. A once-white crumpled handkerchief was lying almost at my feet. I picked it up. It was a small, lace-edged handkerchief with the initials M.D. worked in one of its corners.
I stepped into the alley, closed the back door and walked swiftly to the street.
To me the initials M.D. could mean only one thing. The handkerchief belonged to Mary Drake! With that and the four pictures of the missing girls as evidence of kidnapping, I could start trouble for Macey if he wouldn ’ t cooperate with me. Kidnapping was a Federal offence and the F.B.I. would act on this kind of evidence.
I slipped the handkerchief in my pocket and stepped cautiously from the alley into the street. There was no one around and I went back to the shop window.
The moon was now immediately overhead. I could clearly see the details of every photograph in the window. But there was only one photograph that interested me, the one that carried the caption: Special enlargements $1.50 extra.
One look was enough. I knew then why the three men had driven up to the shop and had entered in such haste. The photograph had been changed. The blonde girl whom Esslinger had told me was Mary Drake no longer laughed up at me. A photograph of a sharp-featured girl wearing a white floppy hat had taken her place.
As I stared blankly at the photograph, the girl seemed to sneer at me.
I reached the Granville Gazette building as a street clock struck three.
As I walked along the sidewalk in the brilliant moonlight I felt as exposed as a nudist let loose in a subway. The air was still stifling and I was sweating and jumpy.
I wandered past the dilapidated building, glanced casually at the double doors and noticed they were closed. I didn ’ t stop, but went on for twenty yards before ducking into a doorway.
It was going to be a sweet job to force that lock in a street that was almost as light as day. It only needed one conscientious cop to poke his head round the corner while I was doing it and I ’ d be in a nice jam. From what I had seen of the Cranville cops he ’ d shoot first and ask questions after.
I stood in the doorway and listened. It was quiet, and I was just making up my mind to get to work when I heard someone coming. I dodged back into the doorway and told myself what a smart guy I was not to have been caught in the open.
A woman came down the street. I could tell it was a woman by the click of her wooden heels on the brick pavement. She was walking quickly, then she slowed down, and a moment later the clicking of her heels stopped altogether.
I took off my hat and peered round the doorway. I caught a glimpse of her.
She was standing outside the Cranville Gazette building. I couldn ’ t see much of her except she was slim, medium height, and seemed to be wearing a dark tailored suit.
She looked suddenly up and down the street. The movement was nervous and furtive. I ducked back out of sight, hoping she hadn ’ t seen me.
She didn ’ t run away, so after a few seconds I took another look. She was now standing close to the double doors. As I watched her, wondering what she was doing, I heard a faint sound of a lock turning. A moment later she pushed open the doors and disappeared into the building.
Automatically I fumbled for a cigarette, changed my mind and massaged the back of my neck instead. This had foxed me.
I gave her a couple of minutes and then walked to the building and tried the double doors. They
Similar Books
