Read Online Date with a Dead Man by Brett Halliday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brett Halliday
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purposefully toward the door and said frostily, “It hardly seems a matter for discussion with you.”
Shayne still didn’t get up. He said, “The matter under discussion is the unexplained disappearance of Leon Wallace a year ago.”
Hastings paused with his hand on the doorknob. He kept his back to Shayne, but the detective saw his body stiffen to rigidity. “I fail to see how that concerns my clients. I understand he was discharged as an economy measure.”
Shayne said, “Maybe.” He stood up slowly. “Did Albert or his wife get the divorce?”
“Mrs. Hawley entered the suit in Nevada.”
“On what grounds?”
“Mental cruelty, I believe.” Hastings pulled the door open and turned worried eyes on Shayne. “It’s all water under the bridge now. I fail to see how anything constructive can come from reopening old wounds.”
Shayne said, “You’re probably right,” and sauntered out into the outer office, hearing the door shut firmly behind him.
A man and woman entered as he approached the outer door. The man was tall and cadaverous, with long apelike arms. The woman was young and smartly groomed, and even more sexually attractive in the flesh than she had appeared in the wedding photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Hawley which Shayne had studied in the News morgue earlier that morning.
Shayne stopped in front of them and said, “Hi, Jake. What’s a shyster like you doing in a legitimate law office?”
Jake Sims grinned without mirth and said, “I’ll throw that question right back at you, shamus. Don’t tell me the esteemed Lawyer Hastings has got down into the gutter by retaining you on a case?”
Shayne returned his grin, but his had real mirth in it. He said, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to Matie?”
She was studying him calculatingly, with her head tilted a little on one side, her eyes unabashedly telling him she liked what she saw. “Who is he, Jake?”
“A good guy for you to stay away from,” grumbled Jake Sims. He grasped her well-fleshed arm firmly and drew her past Shayne toward the little man at the desk. She turned her head to keep her eyes on his as she went past, and her full red lips formed a little circle of disappointment—or of promise.
Shayne said, “It’s okay, Mrs. Meredith. We’ll be seeing each other around,” and went out before she could reply.
7
Downstairs, Shayne picked up the first edition of the Daily News and glanced at the front page as he went out to his car. There was a double-column spread by-lined Joel Cross with the heading:
HEROISM AT SEA
It was an excited and effusive announcement that feature writer Joel Cross had made arrangements with Mr. Jasper Groat for the exclusive publication of Groat’s personal journal kept during those harrowing days at sea while he and two companions drifted helplessly on an open life raft after their plane crashed.
The announcement contained such phrases as: Authentic account of heroism on the high seas… vivid first-hand narrative of suffering and near-despair… what ordinary men say and think when faced with almost inevitable Death … a record of the last words of One Who Did Not Come Back… the simple story of a burial at sea that will wring the heart-strings of every reader…
Shayne folded the paper with a frown and got into his car. The whole thing was out in the open now. Anyone reading the News, with knowledge of the importance of the actual time of Albert Hawley’s death, would realize that Groat’s diary held the key to a fortune. As he drove east on Flagler toward his office he wondered if Joel Cross was yet aware of the dynamite contained in the pages of the diary.
Lucy Hamilton looked up with a frown puckering her smooth forehead when he entered his office. “Chief Gentry just called, Michael. You’re to call him. And Mrs. Groat telephoned earlier. She’s frantic and wants to know what you’re doing about finding her husband.”
Shayne shook his head soberly. “Not
Shayne still didn’t get up. He said, “The matter under discussion is the unexplained disappearance of Leon Wallace a year ago.”
Hastings paused with his hand on the doorknob. He kept his back to Shayne, but the detective saw his body stiffen to rigidity. “I fail to see how that concerns my clients. I understand he was discharged as an economy measure.”
Shayne said, “Maybe.” He stood up slowly. “Did Albert or his wife get the divorce?”
“Mrs. Hawley entered the suit in Nevada.”
“On what grounds?”
“Mental cruelty, I believe.” Hastings pulled the door open and turned worried eyes on Shayne. “It’s all water under the bridge now. I fail to see how anything constructive can come from reopening old wounds.”
Shayne said, “You’re probably right,” and sauntered out into the outer office, hearing the door shut firmly behind him.
A man and woman entered as he approached the outer door. The man was tall and cadaverous, with long apelike arms. The woman was young and smartly groomed, and even more sexually attractive in the flesh than she had appeared in the wedding photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Hawley which Shayne had studied in the News morgue earlier that morning.
Shayne stopped in front of them and said, “Hi, Jake. What’s a shyster like you doing in a legitimate law office?”
Jake Sims grinned without mirth and said, “I’ll throw that question right back at you, shamus. Don’t tell me the esteemed Lawyer Hastings has got down into the gutter by retaining you on a case?”
Shayne returned his grin, but his had real mirth in it. He said, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to Matie?”
She was studying him calculatingly, with her head tilted a little on one side, her eyes unabashedly telling him she liked what she saw. “Who is he, Jake?”
“A good guy for you to stay away from,” grumbled Jake Sims. He grasped her well-fleshed arm firmly and drew her past Shayne toward the little man at the desk. She turned her head to keep her eyes on his as she went past, and her full red lips formed a little circle of disappointment—or of promise.
Shayne said, “It’s okay, Mrs. Meredith. We’ll be seeing each other around,” and went out before she could reply.
7
Downstairs, Shayne picked up the first edition of the Daily News and glanced at the front page as he went out to his car. There was a double-column spread by-lined Joel Cross with the heading:
HEROISM AT SEA
It was an excited and effusive announcement that feature writer Joel Cross had made arrangements with Mr. Jasper Groat for the exclusive publication of Groat’s personal journal kept during those harrowing days at sea while he and two companions drifted helplessly on an open life raft after their plane crashed.
The announcement contained such phrases as: Authentic account of heroism on the high seas… vivid first-hand narrative of suffering and near-despair… what ordinary men say and think when faced with almost inevitable Death … a record of the last words of One Who Did Not Come Back… the simple story of a burial at sea that will wring the heart-strings of every reader…
Shayne folded the paper with a frown and got into his car. The whole thing was out in the open now. Anyone reading the News, with knowledge of the importance of the actual time of Albert Hawley’s death, would realize that Groat’s diary held the key to a fortune. As he drove east on Flagler toward his office he wondered if Joel Cross was yet aware of the dynamite contained in the pages of the diary.
Lucy Hamilton looked up with a frown puckering her smooth forehead when he entered his office. “Chief Gentry just called, Michael. You’re to call him. And Mrs. Groat telephoned earlier. She’s frantic and wants to know what you’re doing about finding her husband.”
Shayne shook his head soberly. “Not
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