“They only killed their bodies,” Betty whispered. “Daddy told me that was all, that I shouldn’t feel alone.” Her eyes were glazed, as if she were thinking—or praying.
“But to leave a child—” the Inspector said.
Before he spoke, Burns looked at Betty. Her eyes were fastened on him in a sort of tense concentration, as if she were willing him to say or do something.
“He prepared her,” Burns said. “He made her strong. He hoped someone would take her. As a matter of fact,” he cleared his throat and hesitated, but only for an instant. “If you’ll give me time… if I can find someone who’ll have me… I wouldn’t mind…” His voice trailed off.
The music box started playing. It was wound tighter and the tinkling notes sounded less off-key, and somehow the tune sounded only tenderly nostalgic now.
“I thought you were afraid of children,” Wallace said gently.
“I was, until now.” Burns smiled at Betty and, surprisingly, a dimple appeared in his left cheek.
“Well, yes, I’ll give you time,” the old Inspector said. “And meanwhile, I have a wife already…”
Table of Contents
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
DEATH DIVES DEEP
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
THE TOY-HEAD MAN
THE FIFTH ONE
THE RITES OF DEATH
THE PATSY
WATER’S EDGE
2
MOONFLOWER
A HOOD IS BORN
2
3
4
5
6
7
THE RIGHT KIND OF A HOUSE
THREE WIVES TOO MANY
2
3
4
SUNDAY’S SLAUGHTER
THE MUSICAL DOLL
Mike Shayne's Torrid Twelve Page 24