A Redhead for Mike Shayne
Page 16
He waited while she turned away meekly and went to the telephone stand and got a pad and a pencil. He gave her his hotel number and she wrote it down.
“That’s my home number,” he explained. “You can reach me there until nine or ten tomorrow morning. After that, call my office.” He gave her that number.
“If I don’t hear from you by noon tomorrow it will be too late,” he told her. “Don’t forget that you’ll be responsible for whatever happens.”
She nodded and hung her head and said, “I guess I’ve been an awful damn fool, Mike Shayne. I’ve changed my mind about private detectives.”
“Most of us are damn fools at times,” Shayne assured her. “And stop watching the private eye shows on television. Just because a man is a licensed private investigator it doesn’t make him into a complete heel.” He stopped, grinning at himself as he realized that he was beginning to sound positively mawkish.
“All right,” he said briskly. “So much for that. My Boy Scout deed is accomplished. I’ll now dismount from my white charger and go find some more keyholes to peek through.” He turned away from her and opened the door and went out and closed it firmly behind him.
He was feeling good, by God. Surprisingly good. Despite his cynical scoffing at Timothy Rourke earlier he was glad he had come.
He’d ended up almost liking Dorothy, and he was feeling very smug and paternal about the whole thing.
He noted that the door of 4-B was now tightly closed as he hesitated there in the corridor. At the moment he didn’t know whether he was sorry or glad. She was quite a person … that barefooted one. And she served good brandy. What the devil was Napoleon V.O.P.? It was a new one on him. He wondered if she had made it up, and he suspected that she had.
Ships that pass in the night!
Next time he would close the door and lock it.
But right now Tim Rourke and his brown-haired secretary were waiting for him at Lucio’s, and Tim was going to pay for the drinks and dinner, and he and Lucy were both going to be properly impressed when he related the manner in which he had handled the Dorothy Larson affair.
He stopped at the row of mail-boxes outside the open glass doors and looked at 4-B.
“May Graham.”
He liked that. Not Mr. and Mrs. Not Mrs. Graham. Just May.
Somehow that was right for a big, barefooted woman who called him Red without waiting for an introduction.
Michael Shayne felt very much at peace with the world as he went down the walk to his parked car.
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About the Author
Brett Halliday (1904–1977) was the primary pseudonym of American author Davis Dresser. Halliday is best known for creating the Mike Shayne Mysteries. The novels, which follow the exploits of fictional PI Mike Shayne, have inspired several feature films, a radio series, and a television series.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1964 by Brett Halliday
Cover design by Mimi Bark
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1601-8
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