Read Online The Case of the Kidnapped Angel: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Six) by Howard Fast - Free Book Online Page A

staircase, stained glass windows, light fixtures like chateau lanterns, mahogany doors and trim and white plaster between heavy wooden beams.
    â€œThey’re in the living room—or were—over there.” He nodded at an archway.
    Masuto went down two steps, through the archway, and opened a heavy door. The living room was at least forty feet long, with a high, beamed ceiling, an overstuffed couch, some easy chairs, and an enormous fireplace with a box large enough to take five-foot logs. No fire burned there now. The three people in the room were almost lost in its immensity—McCarthy talking on the telephone, Ranier at a long deal table with papers spread in front of him, and in one of the big, overstuffed chairs, her legs drawn up under her, her eyes staring sightlessly into space, a very pretty, slender young woman who, Masuto surmised, was Elaine Newman. She had dark hair and dark eyes and wore almost no makeup, and her face had a chiseled quality that Masuto responded to immediately. After he and Beckman had entered the room and stood just inside the door for a long moment, the girl turned to look at him, but without curiosity. Ranier glanced up from his papers and McCarthy finished his phone conversation.
    â€œWe met this morning,” Masuto said. “I’m Detective Sergeant Masuto.”
    â€œYes.” McCarthy nodded. “I suggest you get on with your inquisition and let us get out of here. I already informed Wainwright that you have no damned right even to suggest that we stay and be questioned.”
    â€œOnly for you to help us,” Masuto replied gently, “as citizens and as friends of the murdered man.”
    â€œThey weren’t his friends,” Elaine Newman said unexpectedly and tiredly. “Don’t call them his friends.”
    â€œShut up, Elaine!” Ranier snapped.
    â€œWhy? Are you going to kill me too, you blood-sucking son of a bitch?”
    Ranier leaped to his feet and came around the table. “I won’t stand for that! I don’t have to stand for that! I don’t have to listen to that foul-mouthed cunt!”
    Beckman interposed himself, blocking Ranier’s advance. “Let’s all of us just take it easy,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down, Mr. Ranier?”
    For a moment or two Ranier faced up to Beckman’s enormous bulk; then he retreated and dropped into a chair. Beckman turned to Elaine Newman and said, “Why don’t we go inside for a little while, Miss Newman. Suppose we find the kitchen and make us some coffee. I can use some, and I guess you can too.” He glanced at Masuto, who nodded, and then he helped the girl out of her chair and led her to the door. “Can I go home?” she asked Masuto plaintively.
    â€œIn a little while. After we’ve talked. Go along with Detective Beckman and try to relax.”
    After Beckman and the girl had left the room, Ranier turned to Masuto and told him angrily, “I resent this. I resent having to stand here and be accused of murder by that little bitch.”
    â€œBill, Bill,” McCarthy said, “no one is accusing you of murder. Elaine is just shooting off her grief, and it’s a relief to have some grief around here. Anyway”—he turned to Masuto—“Bill doesn’t have enough guts to kill anyone.”
    â€œThank you,” Ranier said sourly.
    â€œAnd Mike was his meal ticket. Who kills the goose that lays the five percent?”
    â€œHe was your meal ticket too!” Ranier shouted. “Talk about bloodsuckers—you soaked him with fees that were unreal.”
    â€œWhich eliminates both of us as murder suspects. That ought to please you.”
    â€œThat’s enough of that,” Masuto said sharply. “The fact of the matter is that Mike Barton is dead and someone killed him, and I have to make some sense out of this. All this talk of suspects is meaningless. We have no suspects. We