Michael Shayne's Long Chance by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online Page B

fresh tie without looking and went to the dresser to tie it.
    He remembered Margo Macon’s kiss—her slim body dancing away from him—her gay retort, “That’s to seal our date tonight—so you won’t let some hussy pick you up.” Why the hell was her apartment dark if she was expecting him?
    He drew his tie into a tight knot and turned to the long windows leading onto the balcony. Faint light from a street lamp shone upon the narrow slit between the two buildings. He could vaguely discern the outline of the deck chair on the larger and opposite balcony where the girl had been curled up in the afternoon.
    He stared somberly across the gap. This messed up his plans. If she had the photograph, his plan for pretending to be taken in by her imposture was out.
    As he stared and meditated upon just how to meet this new situation, his eyes slowly focused upon a curious blotch of whiteness protruding from her door leading out onto the balcony. Wall shadows darkened the door, but he finally perceived that it was open.
    He studied the odd object for a moment, then leaned forward to catch the opposite railing and vaulted across.
    The protruding object was a woman’s bare foot.
    Shayne struck a match, but he knew before the light flared that Barbara Little was dead.

 
CHAPTER FIVE
     
    SHAYNE HASTILY KILLED THE MATCH FLAME, pushed the screen door back and stepped over the body into her apartment. The room was faintly lighted by a glow from his own hotel room directly opposite.
    He stood motionless for a long moment looking down upon the outstretched corpse, then sank to his knees and cupped a lighted match in his big hands.
    Barbara Little lay on her left side. A pool of blood circled the faded carpet around her head. Her right foot held the screen door slightly ajar. A bright yellow dress of some sheer material was ripped downward from her shoulder. Her right eye was wide open, the lid drawn back as though held by some mechanical device. The pupil stared up at him in death.
    The left side of her face was cruelly bludgeoned, indicating the use of a weapon too light to kill with one blow—her murderer had struck again and again with insensate fury. Or the killer might not have been strong enough to bring death with one blow of a heavy weapon. It was clear that she had been dead not more than half an hour.
    Shayne glanced at his watch as the match burned down and went out. The time was 10:58.
    As he waited for his eyes to become adjusted to the semidarkness, he cursed himself for neglecting the girl, for his failure to take J. P. Little’s earnest warning seriously enough. He should have insisted upon her breaking the dinner engagement with her girl friends so that he could be with her, or at least watch over her from his hotel room.
    Accustomed to violent death, Shayne had acquired a superficially impersonal attitude toward murder in the practice of his profession. But this was different. Only a few hours ago he had blatantly assured the girl’s father that she was safe under his protection.
    He stood up, strolled aimlessly around the small buffet apartment to get a general idea of the layout without making more light. There was one large room with an in-a-door bed, a tiny kitchenette, and a bathroom. The few furnishings were heavy, richly carved antiques. A stuffed owl watched him somberly from a plaque above an ornamental fireplace. A card table near the balcony doors held the remains of the evening meal. There was service for three.
    He went back to the girl’s body and leaned down, struck another match and turned slowly, making a circle of light which disclosed nothing he had not seen previously. He shook the flare out and dropped the charred matchstick in his pocket, eased the French door farther inward to return to the balcony.
    The bottom of the door struck some object and would open no farther. He struck a third match and held it behind the door.
    Shayne stared with bleak eyes at the squat Monnet cognac bottle which