Read Online Dead Man's Diary & A Taste for Cognac by Brett Halliday - Free Book Online Page B

squared his shoulders and stepped into the room. His actions showed a strong trace of self-consciousness. His gaze was fixed on Mrs. Meredith’s face as though he hoped to receive some signal from her, some hint as to what she expected from him.
    She said smoothly, “It’s nice of you to drop in, Mr. Cunningham. I would like to mix you a mint julep since Mr. Shayne scorns them. Besides, my charming ex-sister-in-law is waiting in his apartment,” she added acidly.
    Shayne said, “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk over.” He started for the door again, adding, “Just as I have with Mrs. Meany.”
    “I’ve got some things to talk to you about,” Cunningham muttered. “I just heard Jasper Groat’s body has been found.”
    “Didn’t surprise you, did it?”
    “No. As I told you last night, I knew something had happened to him. What about the diary?”
    “You still have that to worry about. You and Mrs. Meredith and the Hawleys, and Hastings and Sims—and maybe Joel Cross.” Shayne went out and closed the door.
    In the lobby he went down the corridor behind the desk and stopped at a door marked Private. A voice said, “Come in,” when he knocked.
    Kurt Davis was lounging in a chair smoking a cigar. He didn’t look the way a house detective is supposed to look, but at the St. Charles the job called for brains more than brawn.
    He said, “Hello there, Shayne. Are you working?”
    “Sort of.” Shayne pulled up a chair and sat down. “Can you get me the home address of Mrs. Meredith in Room 319?”
    “I can get you the address she used when she registered.”
    Shayne nodded. “I don’t expect an affidavit with it.”
    Davis got up and strolled across the small room to a metal box affixed to the wall. He pressed a button and spoke into the box. Turning back to Shayne, he asked, “Anything we ought to have on her?”
    “I don’t think so.” Shayne hesitated, then added, “You might keep an eye on the men she entertains in her suite.”
    “A floozie?” the house detective asked.
    “Not at all. The worst she’s likely to do is knock some guy out with one of her mint juleps. She’s mixed up in a case I’m working on. I don’t know how deeply. If there’s a pinch, I’ll see that your dump is kept clean.”
    The metal box buzzed. Davis turned to it, pressed a button, and said, “Yes?”
    Shayne took out a small memo pad and a pencil. He copied down the street address as Davis repeated it aloud. He promised, “If I get anything you can use, I’ll pass it on,” and went out.
    It was getting quite dark as he walked up the street to a telegraph office and wrote out a message to Mr. Theodore Meredith in Chicago, Illinois. It read: Dangerous complications demand you here immediately. Wire me at once but not at hotel because am watched. Send message to this address.
    He completed the message with his own apartment address and signed it Matie. He sent it as a straight message, went back to his parked car, and drove to his apartment.
    When Shayne stepped out on the sidewalk he glanced up to see light in the front windows of his second-floor apartment. He knew he hadn’t left the lights on when he had gone out earlier in the day.
    He thought he discerned movement inside the room and watched the windows for a full minute. The movement was not repeated. He grinned wryly upon realizing that he might have been telling Mrs. Meredith the truth, after all, when he had said lightly that Beatrice Meany was waiting for him in his apartment. He started forward, hoping she hadn’t already got into the liquor. There were a lot of things he wanted to ask her.
    He went up the front steps onto the veranda, passed through double entrance doors into a small, dimly lit hallway with stairs leading directly upward. The small light bulb at the top of the stairway was out, leaving the upper hall in darkness. He turned toward the crack of light showing under his door.
    As he brought his keys from his pocket his hand grasped