Read Online Shoot to Kill by Brett Halliday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brett Halliday
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back to my room and shut the door again.
“It was a short time later… perhaps five or six minutes… when I heard a commotion downstairs and people running about, and I came out of my room to see this private detective and the houseboy outside his door. Then there was a shot from inside, and this man broke the door down with his shoulder. Thus my trip becomes a complete waste of time, and I am informed by the airport that there are no further New York flights available until tomorrow morning. I would like to call a taxi now and go to a hotel in the hope of getting a few hours rest. I certainly don’t wish to spend the night under this roof.”
Griggs nodded. “In just a few minutes… after I clear the rest of this up. Why don’t you relax and have another drink?” He turned his head toward Powers who appeared in the doorway, and the young patrolman reported, “Your men say they’re through upstairs, Sergeant. And there’s an ambulance and stretcher here.”
Griggs got up and followed Sutter out, and they heard him conferring briefly in the living room with his technicians, and there were heavy footsteps up and down the stairs, sounds of the outer doors opening and closing, car doors slamming and motors starting.
Griggs returned in a few minutes followed by the houseman who held himself stiffly and self-consciously in the presence of the police. He sat primly erect in the straight chair with knees together and brown hands folded tightly in his lap, and answered Griggs’ questions in excellent English.
His name was Alfredo Sanchez, he said, he had been born in New York and held his present position for five years. He was thirty-four years old, unmarried, and claimed he had no police record at all. The household consisted of himself and a colored housekeeper-cook who slept out, Mr. and Mrs. Ames and Mr. Conroy.
He confirmed Wesley Ames’ habit of staying out practically all night and generally sleeping until late in the afternoon, and that the columnist seldom took a meal at home. Today he had arisen about four-thirty, Alfred said, and gone directly to his study after he had bathed and dressed, and hung the sign on his door which was supposed to exclude everyone except Mrs. Ames. The cook had prepared a pot of coffee about five, and Mrs. Ames had taken it in to him with a cup and saucer. So far as Alfred knew, no one else had entered the study from the hallway until Ralph Larson had forced his way up the stairs and bolted the door. It was normally never locked on the inside, Alfred explained, because the Do Not Disturb sign was sufficient to insure privacy.
Other visitors who came in the evening were always checked at the front door by Conroy and sent around to the outside entrance where Ames admitted them himself, and he believed there had been at least one such visitor tonight, but he did not know his identity nor whether there had been others or not.
He briefly confirmed the time of Sutter’s arrival from the airport, serving dinner to the three of them, Mark Ames’ arrival after dinner, and Sutter’s retirement to his room some time around seven o’clock.
He had cleared the table and helped cook with the dishes, he said, and she had gone out the back way about seven-thirty as was her custom. He knew that Mrs. Ames and Mr. Conroy had left the house together a little before eight o’clock, though neither had spoken to him or mentioned their plans for the evening.
He had been in his pantry when Sutter called down for a bottle from the top of the stairs, and Mark Ames was alone in the living room still waiting to see his brother when he asked Alfred to also bring him a bottle of bourbon.
He was just emerging from the pantry with the silver tray containing two bottles and four glasses, two of them containing ice cubes, when the front door was flung open and Ralph Larson ran inside brandishing a revolver. He had brushed Mark Ames aside, and Alfred got in front of him as he made for the stairs. He had
“It was a short time later… perhaps five or six minutes… when I heard a commotion downstairs and people running about, and I came out of my room to see this private detective and the houseboy outside his door. Then there was a shot from inside, and this man broke the door down with his shoulder. Thus my trip becomes a complete waste of time, and I am informed by the airport that there are no further New York flights available until tomorrow morning. I would like to call a taxi now and go to a hotel in the hope of getting a few hours rest. I certainly don’t wish to spend the night under this roof.”
Griggs nodded. “In just a few minutes… after I clear the rest of this up. Why don’t you relax and have another drink?” He turned his head toward Powers who appeared in the doorway, and the young patrolman reported, “Your men say they’re through upstairs, Sergeant. And there’s an ambulance and stretcher here.”
Griggs got up and followed Sutter out, and they heard him conferring briefly in the living room with his technicians, and there were heavy footsteps up and down the stairs, sounds of the outer doors opening and closing, car doors slamming and motors starting.
Griggs returned in a few minutes followed by the houseman who held himself stiffly and self-consciously in the presence of the police. He sat primly erect in the straight chair with knees together and brown hands folded tightly in his lap, and answered Griggs’ questions in excellent English.
His name was Alfredo Sanchez, he said, he had been born in New York and held his present position for five years. He was thirty-four years old, unmarried, and claimed he had no police record at all. The household consisted of himself and a colored housekeeper-cook who slept out, Mr. and Mrs. Ames and Mr. Conroy.
He confirmed Wesley Ames’ habit of staying out practically all night and generally sleeping until late in the afternoon, and that the columnist seldom took a meal at home. Today he had arisen about four-thirty, Alfred said, and gone directly to his study after he had bathed and dressed, and hung the sign on his door which was supposed to exclude everyone except Mrs. Ames. The cook had prepared a pot of coffee about five, and Mrs. Ames had taken it in to him with a cup and saucer. So far as Alfred knew, no one else had entered the study from the hallway until Ralph Larson had forced his way up the stairs and bolted the door. It was normally never locked on the inside, Alfred explained, because the Do Not Disturb sign was sufficient to insure privacy.
Other visitors who came in the evening were always checked at the front door by Conroy and sent around to the outside entrance where Ames admitted them himself, and he believed there had been at least one such visitor tonight, but he did not know his identity nor whether there had been others or not.
He briefly confirmed the time of Sutter’s arrival from the airport, serving dinner to the three of them, Mark Ames’ arrival after dinner, and Sutter’s retirement to his room some time around seven o’clock.
He had cleared the table and helped cook with the dishes, he said, and she had gone out the back way about seven-thirty as was her custom. He knew that Mrs. Ames and Mr. Conroy had left the house together a little before eight o’clock, though neither had spoken to him or mentioned their plans for the evening.
He had been in his pantry when Sutter called down for a bottle from the top of the stairs, and Mark Ames was alone in the living room still waiting to see his brother when he asked Alfred to also bring him a bottle of bourbon.
He was just emerging from the pantry with the silver tray containing two bottles and four glasses, two of them containing ice cubes, when the front door was flung open and Ralph Larson ran inside brandishing a revolver. He had brushed Mark Ames aside, and Alfred got in front of him as he made for the stairs. He had
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