Read Online Tickets for Death by Brett Halliday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brett Halliday
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graceful fronds silvered with the pale light of a quarter moon.
Lounging back in the seat with his big hands loose on the steering-wheel, Shayne drove slowly. He was waiting for something, he wasn’t certain what. There was a subtle warning in the subdued murmur of the night breeze swaying silvery fronds along the way, in the gentle swish of combers on the shore to his right.
He nodded absently. It was best to leave Phyllis twiddling her thumbs in the hotel lobby.
The black macadam of the highway was strangely deserted, an unwavering path leading him onward between the slender white palm trunks which were like a double row of planted lances in the softly diffused light.
Headlights of an oncoming automobile cut a bright swath toward him. He slowed still more and watched it roar past. A Ford, and the driver was the stoop-shouldered man he had watched drive away from the Voice office.
When his headlights picked up the slender figure of the girl in the roadway ahead, Shayne felt no surprise. She was as much a part of the scene as the tall palms and the night silence. She was walking northward on the edge of the pavement, glancing back over her shoulder hopefully as he came up behind her.
She stopped suddenly and turned to face his headlights, not gesturing for a ride, but quite evidently offering herself for any adventure that might come. Few men would have passed her by on the lonely road, and certainly Michael Shayne was not one of those.
He braked the roadster to a stop beside her, seeing only that she was young and slender and held herself with an aloofness that was disconcertingly at variance with what one might reasonably expect of a roadside pickup.
The girl hesitated momentarily, then leaned forward on the door, putting her head and shoulders inside and looking at his face with grave, searching eyes. She had bright blond hair wound around her head in big braids with a tiny jaunty ribbon tucked on one side. Her breath came jerkily through parted lips that were too red.
Shayne decided that her eyes were blue. He grinned and asked, “Well, do I pass inspection?”
When she nodded without speaking he leaned over and released the door catch. “It doesn’t cost any more to ride, and it’s lots easier on shoe leather.”
She nodded swiftly and slid in beside him, drawing a light silk cape protectingly about her shoulders and breast. She shivered and murmured with forced flippancy, “I forgot my roller skates.”
Shayne reached past her and closed the door. He settled back and took out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, but she shook her head; then, changing her mind, she reached for one. “I guess I will, too.” Her voice was a deep-throated murmur.
Shayne held a match to the end of her cigarette and amusement came into his eyes as she puffed with bravado. She had a nice profile and a creamy soft complexion where there was not excessive rouge.
She said, “You’re wondering—why I’m out here like this—walking down the road alone at night.”
Shayne said, “Why, no. I was expecting you.”
She jerked her bright head around quickly, lips parted in surprise. “You’re crazy. You couldn’t have been.”
“All right,” Shayne agreed, “I’m nuts. I guess it’s the moon.” He puffed on his cigarette serenely and waited for her to make the next move.
She fidgeted with her cape, holding it together with one hand while she held the cigarette in the other. “What I mean is,” she said haltingly, “no one could have expected this to happen. Not even I. I thought Fred was a nice fellow.” There was a note of deep injury in her throaty young voice.
“Wasn’t he?” asked Shayne interestedly.
“I’ll say he wasn’t. He—well, a girl doesn’t mind when she’s stepping out to have a good time. But when he admitted he was married and had two kids—” She shrugged her slim shoulders and relapsed into gloomy silence.
“So your evening is completely spoiled?”
She gave him a long,
Lounging back in the seat with his big hands loose on the steering-wheel, Shayne drove slowly. He was waiting for something, he wasn’t certain what. There was a subtle warning in the subdued murmur of the night breeze swaying silvery fronds along the way, in the gentle swish of combers on the shore to his right.
He nodded absently. It was best to leave Phyllis twiddling her thumbs in the hotel lobby.
The black macadam of the highway was strangely deserted, an unwavering path leading him onward between the slender white palm trunks which were like a double row of planted lances in the softly diffused light.
Headlights of an oncoming automobile cut a bright swath toward him. He slowed still more and watched it roar past. A Ford, and the driver was the stoop-shouldered man he had watched drive away from the Voice office.
When his headlights picked up the slender figure of the girl in the roadway ahead, Shayne felt no surprise. She was as much a part of the scene as the tall palms and the night silence. She was walking northward on the edge of the pavement, glancing back over her shoulder hopefully as he came up behind her.
She stopped suddenly and turned to face his headlights, not gesturing for a ride, but quite evidently offering herself for any adventure that might come. Few men would have passed her by on the lonely road, and certainly Michael Shayne was not one of those.
He braked the roadster to a stop beside her, seeing only that she was young and slender and held herself with an aloofness that was disconcertingly at variance with what one might reasonably expect of a roadside pickup.
The girl hesitated momentarily, then leaned forward on the door, putting her head and shoulders inside and looking at his face with grave, searching eyes. She had bright blond hair wound around her head in big braids with a tiny jaunty ribbon tucked on one side. Her breath came jerkily through parted lips that were too red.
Shayne decided that her eyes were blue. He grinned and asked, “Well, do I pass inspection?”
When she nodded without speaking he leaned over and released the door catch. “It doesn’t cost any more to ride, and it’s lots easier on shoe leather.”
She nodded swiftly and slid in beside him, drawing a light silk cape protectingly about her shoulders and breast. She shivered and murmured with forced flippancy, “I forgot my roller skates.”
Shayne reached past her and closed the door. He settled back and took out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, but she shook her head; then, changing her mind, she reached for one. “I guess I will, too.” Her voice was a deep-throated murmur.
Shayne held a match to the end of her cigarette and amusement came into his eyes as she puffed with bravado. She had a nice profile and a creamy soft complexion where there was not excessive rouge.
She said, “You’re wondering—why I’m out here like this—walking down the road alone at night.”
Shayne said, “Why, no. I was expecting you.”
She jerked her bright head around quickly, lips parted in surprise. “You’re crazy. You couldn’t have been.”
“All right,” Shayne agreed, “I’m nuts. I guess it’s the moon.” He puffed on his cigarette serenely and waited for her to make the next move.
She fidgeted with her cape, holding it together with one hand while she held the cigarette in the other. “What I mean is,” she said haltingly, “no one could have expected this to happen. Not even I. I thought Fred was a nice fellow.” There was a note of deep injury in her throaty young voice.
“Wasn’t he?” asked Shayne interestedly.
“I’ll say he wasn’t. He—well, a girl doesn’t mind when she’s stepping out to have a good time. But when he admitted he was married and had two kids—” She shrugged her slim shoulders and relapsed into gloomy silence.
“So your evening is completely spoiled?”
She gave him a long,
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