Badge of Evil by Whit Masterson Read Free Book Online Page A

the dynamite has bifocals an inch thick. But there’s no doubt about it, we’re on the right track.”
    “That’s very interesting, Captain. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow.”
    “That McCoy you were talking to?” asked Shayon as Holt hung up. “How’s the great detective doing on framing me?” He tried to sound amused and scornful but it was only bravado. Shayon was both young and human.
    “McCoy is doing his job and I’m doing mine.” Holt was mulling a strategem. “As I understand it, you claim that you and Tara were out driving around aimlessly the night her father was murdered. That’s a pretty weak alibi, as you know. You could do yourself a lot of good by making it stronger, if you could produce somebody who might have seen you somewhere.”
    “Who do you see when you’re driving in a car? Anyway, what’s it to you, Holt? You’re not in my corner.”
    “I’m in nobody’s corner.” Holt took from his pocket a loose leaf notebook and his fountain pen. “Suppose you give me the route you took and I’ll do a little checking.” He started to uncap his pen and winced. “Forgot about my finger. I banged it in the car door tonight. Would you mind writing down the streets and the approximate times you were there and maybe we’ll find someone — bus driver or service station attendant — who may remember seeing you.”
    “There wasn’t anybody,” Shayon objected and then sighed. “Oh, well, why not? Give it to me.” He sat down at the coffee table and began to write, pausing now and then to ponder. Holt watched him silently. When Shayon had covered one of the small pages he handed the notebook back to Holt. “I’ve got to admit you’ve got a different approach from the rest of them. I don’t know what it adds up to yet. You’re probably out to get me same as the others but at least you’re polite about it.”
    “It’s one of the first things we learn in law school.” Holt went to the door. “One other thing we learn in law school, Mr. Shayon. In every litigation, one attorney is wrong. So if you’re really sincere about Tara, I wouldn’t take what Mr. Wahl had to say as gospel. She might need you now more than before.”
    Holt left Delmont Shayon staring after him and strode out to his car. As he put the key into the ignition, he flexed his supposedly injured finger a couple of times and chuckled. Then his smile slipped away under the impact of his thoughts and, driving almost automatically, he returned across the city to his home.
    Connie hadn’t waited up for him but in their bedroom one of the bedside lamps was burning. She had put on her laciest nightgown and the room held the delicate scent of the expensive cologne she reserved for special occasions. But she had fallen asleep waiting for him.
    Holt sat beside her on the bed and she came awake, blinking. “Mitch! Oh, I must have dropped off. Honey, please forgive me for the way I acted tonight, won’t you?”
    “When?” He had forgotten it. “Oh, that’s okay. You were right, Connie.”
    “You’re sweet, Mitch, but it wasn’t right for me to say — ”
    “No,” he interrupted impatiently. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the other thing, the important one. You were right, Connie, and everybody else is wrong. Tara and Shayon didn’t do it.”

CHAPTER SIX
    V AN D USEN had long, slender fingers that didn’t match his pudgy body. They were accomplished fingers, able to pick a lock, play a violin or blind an antagonist as the need arose. Right now, his fingers were engaged in fashioning a paper hat from the restaurant napkin.
    When it was finished, he passed it across the table to Holt. It was a deer-stalker cap. “Here you are, Sherlock. See if it fits.”
    Holt laughed. For the past quarter hour, he had been outlining his altered views of the Linneker case to the district attorney’s chief investigator and he guessed he had sounded a bit more didactic than he had intended. “Okay, Van,