Murder & the Married Virgin by Brett Halliday Read Free Book Online Page A

that time, so what does it matter where I was?”
    “How old are you?” Shayne asked.
    “I’m twenty-one.”
    Shayne stood on wide-spread legs before him. “For the last time, where were you last night?”
    Eddie cowered away from him. “Different places just bumming around,” he mumbled, “from ten till two. I was at the Laurel Club most of the time,”
    Mr. Lomax said, “Eddie!” reproachfully.
    “Well, that’s about the only place in town where I’m welcome with the money I get to spend,” he snapped. “Dan Trueman’s a good egg.”
    “Anybody see you at the Laurel Club?” Shayne interposed.
    “Sure. Lots of people. Dan saw me leave just before two o’clock. Sis knows he did.” He glanced angrily at Clarice.
    Clarice glared back.
    “Clarice—at the Laurel Club?” Mr. Lomax frowned, “You know that’s not true. Clarice was at the Country Club dance.”
    “Maybe she started out at the Country Club,” Eddie told him, ignoring his sister’s warning look, “but at two o’clock she was at the Laurel Club. The sedan was parked in the driveway and Neal was waiting for her. That’s how I came to see Dan. He was talking with Neal when I came out.”
    Shayne stepped back nearer the grate and watched the trio narrowly.
    Mr. Lomax’s white hands lolled on his emaciated legs, but there was anger in his murky eyes. He asked, “Is this true, Clarice?”
    Clarice’s eyes flashed. She said, “You act as if I should be kept wrapped up in cellophane. Sure, I dropped by there. I was bored at the dance. There wasn’t anybody to dance with, so I asked Neal to drive me some place where there was a little excitement.”
    Mrs. Lomax’s face was passive. She lay inert on the chaise longue with her eyes half closed.
    “I’ll have a talk with Neal,” Mr. Lomax said after a short silence. There was a harsh implication in his voice that caused Shayne to glance hastily at him. He looked white and shaken, and blood pulsed in the raised purple veins on his chalky hands.
    “I’m sure it wasn’t Neal’s fault, Nathan,” Mrs. Lomax said calmly. “He’s just the chauffeur and has to drive where he’s told.”
    “When Neal takes Clarice out I expect him to look after her,” her husband stated flatly.
    “You sound so dreadfully Victorian, Dad.” Clarice laughed shrilly and got up. She smoothed her skirt over her slim hips and stretched her torso upward, accentuating her small pointed breasts. Glancing at Shayne, she said, “I’m sure you find this discussion just too, too interesting.”
    “I’m learning a lot.” Shayne’s mouth was grim. “Did you see your brother at the Laurel Club?”
    “No. I didn’t go back to the gambling room. I just had a cocktail and came on home.” She gave a sniff of disdain and added, “The Laurel Club was pretty tame, too.”
    When Shayne again turned to Nathan Lomax his chin was resting on his chest and he was gently pressing the veins in his hand. Mrs. Lomax had arranged her pillows so that she sat up. Her hands were laxly folded in her lap and she appeared unperturbed by her daughter’s comments.
    Shayne asked, “You and Mrs. Lomax were both at home last night?”
    “Why, yes. We retired early. Mrs. Lomax was weary after her trip, and I read for a time.”
    “I’ve wondered about that trip.” Shayne turned to Mrs. Lomax. “Why did you drive to Baton Rouge?”
    She opened her eyes wide and tried to wither him with a look.
    “It’s really quite simple. I’m district chairman of the Garden Club. We met in Baton Rouge. I trust you don’t disapprove,” she ended icily.
    Shayne asked Lomax, “May I see the place from which the necklace was stolen?”
    “Certainly.” He arose with agility and led the way across the room to one of three doors, opened it and waited for Shayne to go in, then closed it. He said, “This is my wife’s dressing-room. The door to the left leads to my bedroom and the one on the right to Mrs. Lomax’s.”
    The modernistic motif of